ocation
seriously. I own I don't altogether understand the taste for frivolities
which you have developed since you married. It's harmless, no doubt, but
it doesn't seem quite natural in a young woman who has taken a First in
Greats."

Milly's hands grasped the arms of her chair convulsively. She looked at
her aunt with desolation in her dark-ringed eyes. The last thing she had
ever intended was to mention the mysterious and disastrous fate that had
befallen her; yet she did it.

"The person you saw here last spring wasn't I. Oh, Aunt Beatrice! Can't
you see the difference?"

Lady Thomson looked at her in surprise:

"What do you mean? I was speaking of my visit to you in March."

"And don't you see the difference? Oh, how hateful you must have found
me!"

"Really, Mildred, I saw nothing hateful about you. On the contrary, if
you want the plain truth, I greatly prefer you in a cheerful,
common-sense mood, as you were then, even if your high spirits do lead
you into a little too much frivolity. I think it a more wholesome, and
therefore ultimately a more useful, frame of mind than this causeless
depression, which leads you to take such a morbid, exaggerated view of
things."

Every word pierced Milly's heart with a double pang.

"You liked her better than me?" she asked, piteously. "Yet I've always
tried to be just what you wanted me to be, Aunt Beatrice, to do
everything you thought right, and she--Oh, it's too awful!"

"What do you mean, Mildred?"

"I mean that the person you prefer to me as I am now, the person who was
here in March, wasn't I at all."

The fine healthy carnation of Lady Thomson's cheek paled. In her calm,
rapid way she at once found the explanation of Milly's unhealthy,
depressed appearance and manner. Poor Mildred Stewart was insane. Beyond
the paling of her cheek, however, Lady Thomson allowed no sign of shock
to be visible in her.

"That's an exaggerated way of talking," she replied. "I suppose you mean
your mood was different."

Milly was looking straight in front of her with haggard eyes.

"No; it simply wasn't I at all. You believe in the Bible, don't you?"

"Not in verbal inspiration, of course, but in a general way, yes,"
returned Lady Thomson, puzzled but guarded.

"Do you believe in the demoniacs? In possession by evil spirits?"

Milly was not looking at vacancy now. Her desperate hands clutched the
arms of her chair, as she leaned forward and fixed her aunt with hollow