But as she spoke Helen turned on her, crying passionately:
"My mother! don't speak of her to me, I hate her!"
"Oh, Helen, don't say that. Forgive and forget if she has displeased
you, and don't exhaust yourself by brooding over it. Come, dear, and
let us soothe ourselves with a little music. I want to hear that new
song again, though I can never hope to sing it as you do."
"Sing!" echoed Helen, with a shrill laugh, "you don't know what you
ask. Could you sing when your heart was heavy with the knowledge of
a sin about to be committed by those nearest to you? Don't try to
quiet me, I must talk whether you listen or not; I shall go frantic
if I don't tell some one; all the world will know it soon. Sit down,
I'll not hurt you, but don't thwart me or you'll be sorry for it."
Speaking with a vehemence that left her breathless, Helen thrust
Christie down upon a seat, and went on with an expression in her
face that bereft the listener of power to move or speak.
"Harry has just told me of it; he was very angry, and I saw it, and
made him tell me. Poor boy, he can keep nothing from me. I've been
dreading it, and now it's coming. You don't know it, then? Young
Butler is in love with Bella, and no one has prevented it.
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