with an involuntary shiver:

"My God, how terrible!"

Helen came and stood before her with such grief and penitence in her
countenance that for a moment it conquered the despair that had
broken bounds.

"We should have told you this at first; I longed to do it, but I was
afraid you'd go and leave me. I was so lonely, so miserable,
Christie. I could not give you up when I had learned to love you;
and I did learn very soon, for no wretched creature ever needed help
and comfort more than I. For your sake I tried to be quiet, to
control my shattered nerves, and hide rny desperate thoughts. You
helped me very much, and your unconsciousness made me doubly
watchful. Forgive me; don't desert me now, for the old horror may be
coming back, and I want you more than ever."

Too much moved to speak, Christie held out her hands, with a face
full of pity, love, and grief. Poor Helen clung to them as if her
only help lay there, and for a moment was quite still. But not long;
the old anguish was too sharp to be borne in silence; the relief of
confidence once tasted was too great to be denied; and, breaking
loose, she went to and fro again, pouring out the bitter secret
which had been weighing upon heart and conscience for a year.

"You wonder that I hate my mother; let me tell you why. When she was
beautiful and young she married, knowing the sad history of my
father's family. He was rich, she poor and proud; ambition made her
wicked, and she did it after being warned that, though he might