I felt that she would not have given way thus had not her nerves been
shaken, had she not lived so much alone, and irregularly, so far as her
own rest and comfort were concerned, and at such perpetual cost to her
energy. Mrs. Falchion, I knew, was selfish, and would not, or could not,
see that she was hard upon the girl, by such exactions as midnight
reading and loss of sleep. She demanded not merely physical but mental
energy--a complete submission of both; and when this occurred with a
sensitive, high-strung girl, she was literally feeding on another's life-
blood. If she had been told this, she, no doubt, would have been very
much surprised.

I reassured Justine. I told her that I should say nothing directly
to Mrs. Falchion, for I saw she was afraid of unpleasantness; but I
impressed upon her that she must spare herself, or she would break down,
and extorted a promise that she would object to sitting up after midnight
to read to Mrs. Falchion.

When this was done, she said: "But, you see, it is not madame's fault
that I am troubled."

"I do not wish," I said, "to know any secret,--I am a doctor, not a
priest,--but if there is anything you can tell me, in which I might be
able to help you, you may command me in so far as is possible."
Candidly, I think I was too inquiring in those days.

She smiled wistfully, and replied: "I will think of what you say so
kindly, and perhaps, some day soon, I will tell you of such trouble as
I have. But, believe me, it is no question of wrong at all, by any one
--now. The wrong is over. It is simply that a debt of honour must be
satisfied; it concerns my poor dead brother."