"I did not hurt you, and you know it, Miriam; I only shook you to settle
your brains," and she laughed a ghastly laugh, "and to make you a little
bit afraid of me."

"I am not afraid of you," I said, "that is one comfort; and you can
never make me so again; and I am not a mischief-maker, that is another;
so rest in peace. _Pass_ for my sister if you choose, and are proud of
the title; I shall not say yes or no, but of this be certain, you are no
sister of mine, though I call you such, either in heart or blood. I do
not love you, Evelyn Erle; and, if I were not afraid of the anger of God
and my own heart, I would _let_ myself hate you, and strike you. But I
always try and remember what mamma said, and what Mr. Lodore tells us
every Sunday. Yet I find it hard."

"Little hypocrite! little Jew!" burst from her angry lips, and she left
the room in a whirl of rage, not forgetting, however, to write me a very
smooth note before she went to school next morning, which was, with her
usual tact, slipped under my pillow before I awoke; and, after that, all
was outward peace between us for a season.

Evelyn was about sixteen when this occurred, I nearly twelve. The next
year she left school and made her _début_ in society, and, through her
machinations, no doubt, I was sent away to a distant boarding-school for
two years, coming home only at holiday intervals thereafter to my
dearest baby, my home, my parent, and narrow circle of friends, and
finding Miss Erle more and more in possession of my father's confidence,
even to the arrangement of his papers and participation in the knowledge
of his business transactions, and entirely installed as the head of the
house, which post she maintained ever afterward indomitably.