uffered. She went on sitting and suffering. She told herself
that she was a martyr at every stitch she made. As she occupied the
seat opposite to her aunt's accustomed chair she would hardly speak
at all, but would keep her mind always intent on Ayala and the joys
of Ayala's life. That they who had been born together, sisters, with
equal fortunes, who had so closely lived together, should be sundered
so utterly one from the other; that the one should be so exalted and
the other so debased! And why? What justice had there been? Could it
be from heaven or even from earth that the law had gone forth for
such a division of the things of the world between them?

"You have got very little to say to a person?" said Aunt Dosett, one
morning. This, too, was a reproach. This, too, was scolding. And yet
Aunt Dosett had intended to be as pleasant as she knew how.

"I have very little to say," replied Lucy, with repressed anger.

"But why?"

"Because I am stupid," said Lucy. "Stupid people can't talk. You
should have had Ayala."

"I hope you do not envy Ayala her fortune, Lucy?" A woman with any
tact would not have asked such a question at such a time. She should
have felt that a touch of such irony might be natural, and that
unless it were expressed loudly, or shown actively, it might be left
to be suppressed by affection and time. But she, as she had grown
old, had taught herself to bear disappointment, and thought it wise
to teach Lucy to do the same.

"Envy!" said Lucy, not passionately, but after a little pause for
thought. "I sometimes think it is very hard to know what envy is."

"Envy, hatred, and malice," said Mrs. Dosett, hardly knowing what she
meant by the use of the well-worn words.

"I do know what hatred and malice are," said Lucy. "Do you think I
hate Ayala?"

"I am sure you do not."

"Or that I bear her malice?"

"Certainly not."

"If I had the power to take anything from her, would I do it? I love
Ayala with my whole heart. Whatever be my misery I would rather bear
it than let Ayala have even a share of it. Whatever good things she
may have I would not rob her even of a part of them. If there be joy
and sorrow to be divided between us I would wish to have the sorrow
so that she might have the joy. That is not hatred and malice." Mrs.
Dosett looked at her over her spectacles. This was the girl who had
declared that she could not speak because she was too stupid! "But,
when you ask me whether I envy h