'I remember everything. You think I don't; but I do. And you think also
that there's no reason why I should be miserable; but there is. Because you
do not feel my misery, you think it doesn't exist. I daresay you think,
too, that you are very good and kind; but you aren't. You think you deceive
me; but you don't. I know all that is passing between you and Hubert. I
know a great deal more than I can explain....'

'But tell me, Emily, what is it you suspect? What do you accuse me of?'

'I accuse you of nothing. Can't you understand that things may go wrong
without it being any one's fault in particular?'

Julia wondered how Emily could think so wisely. She seemed to have grown
wiser in her grief. But grief helped her no further in her instinctive
perception of the truth, and she resumed her puerile attack on her friend.

'Nothing has gone well with me ever since you came here. I was
disinherited; and I daresay you were glad, for you knew that if the money
did not come to me it would go to Hubert, and I do know----'

'What are you saying, Emily? I never heard of such wild accusations before!
You know very well that I never set eyes on Mr. Price until he came down
here.'

'How should I know what you know or don't know? But I know that all my life
every one has been plotting against me. And I cannot make out why. I never
did harm to any one.'

The conversation paused. Emily flung herself back on the pillow. Not even a