remained silent, with hearts sad and sore.

Every family has its skeleton in the house: this was theirs. Whether
they acknowledged it or not, they knew quite well that every
discomfort they had, every slight jar which disturbed the current of
household peace, somehow or other originated with "poor Selina." They
often called her "poor" with a sort of pity--not unneeded. Heaven
knows! for if the unhappy are to be pitied, ten times more so are
those who make others miserable.

This was Selina's case, and had been all her life. And, sometimes,
she herself knew it. Sometimes, after an especially bad outbreak, her
compunction and remorse would be almost as terrible as her passion;
forcing her sisters to make every excuse for her; she "did not mean
it," it was only "ill health," or "nerves," or her "unfortunate way
of taking things."

But they knew in their hearts that not all their poverty and the
toils it entailed, not all the hardships and humiliation of their
changed estate, were half so bitter to bear as this something--no
moral crime, and yet in its results as fatal as crime--which they
called Selina's "way."

Ascott was the only one who did not attempt to mince matters. When a
little boy he had openly declared he hated Aunt Salina; when he grew
up he as openly defied her, and it was a most difficult matter to
keep even decent peace between them. Hilary's wrath had never gone
further than wishing Selina was married, that appearing the easiest
way of getting rid of her. Latterly she had ceased this earnest
aspiration; it might be, because, learning to think more seriously of