what measure of belief her explanation of evelina's returnobtained in the small circle of her friends ann eliza did not pauseto enquire. though she could not remember ever having told a liebefore, she adhered with rigid tenacity to the consequences of herfirst lapse from truth, and fortified her original statement withadditional details whenever a questioner sought to take herunawares.

but other and more serious burdens lay on her startledconscience. for the first time in her life she dimly faced theawful problem of the inutility of self-sacrifice. hitherto she hadnever thought of questioning the inherited principles which hadguided her life. self-effacement for the good of others had alwaysseemed to her both natural and necessary; but then she had taken itfor granted that it implied the securing of that good. now sheperceived that to refuse the gifts of life does not ensure theirtransmission to those for whom they have been surrendered; and herfamiliar heaven was unpeopled. she felt she could no longer trustin the goodness of god, and there was only a black abyss above theroof of bunner sisters.

but there was little time to brood upon such problems. thecare of evelina filled ann eliza's days and nights. the hastilysummoned doctor had pronounced her to be suffering from pneumonia,and under his care the first stress of the disease was relieved.

but her recovery was only partial, and long after the doctor'svisits had ceased she continued to lie in bed, too weak to move,and seemingly indifferent to everything about her.

at length one evening, about six weeks after her return, shesaid to her sister: "i don't feel's if i'd ever get up again."ann eliza turned from the kettle she was placing on the stove.

she was startled by the echo the words woke in her own breast.

"don't you talk like that, evelina! i guess you're on'y tiredout--and disheartened.""yes, i'm disheartened," evelina murmured.

a few months earlier ann eliza would have met the confessionwith a word of pious admonition; now she accepted it in silence.

"maybe you'll brighten up when your cough gets better," shesuggested.

"yes--or my cough'll get better when i brighten up," evelinaretorted with a touch of her old tartness.

"does your cough keep on hurting you jest as much?""i don't see's there's much difference.""well, i guess i'll get the doctor to come round again," anneliza said, trying for the matter-of-course tone in which one mightspeak of sending for the plumber or the gas-fitter.

"it ain't any use sending for the doctor--and who's going topay him?""i am," answered the elder sister. "here's your tea, and amite of toast. don't that tempt you?"already, in the watches of the night, ann eliza had beentormented by that same question--who was to pay the doctor?--and afew days before she had temporarily silenced it by borrowing twentydollars of miss mellins. the transaction had cost her one of thebitterest struggles of her life. she had never borrowed a penny ofany one before, and the possibility of having to do so had alwaysbeen classed in her mind among those shameful extremities to whichprovidence does not let decent people come. but nowadays she nolonger believed in the personal supervision of providence; and hadshe been compelled to steal the money instead of borrowing it, shewould have felt that her conscience was the only tribunal beforewhich she had to answer. nevertheless, the actual humiliation ofhaving to ask for the money was no less bitter; and she couldhardly hope that miss mellins would view the case with the samedetachment as herself. miss mellins was very kind; but she notunnaturally felt that her kindness should be rewarded by accordingher the right to ask questions; and bit by bit ann eliza sawevelina's miserable secret slipping into the dress-maker'spossession.

when the doctor came she left him alone with evelina, busyingherself in the shop that she might have an opportunity of seeinghim alone on his way out. to steady herself she began to sort atrayful of buttons, and when the doctor appeared she was recitingunder her breath: "twenty-four horn, two and a half cards fancypearl . . ." she saw at once that his look was grave.

he sat down on the chair beside the counter, and her mindtravelled miles before he spoke.

"miss bunner, the best thing you can do is to let me get a bedfor your sister at st. luke's.""the hospital?""come now, you're above that sort of prejudice, aren't you?"the doctor spoke in the tone of one who coaxes a spoiled child. "iknow how devoted you are--but mrs. ramy can be much better caredfor there than here. you really haven't time to look after her andattend to your business as well. there'll be no expense, youunderstand--"ann eliza made no answer. "you think my sister's going to besick a good while, then?" she asked.

"well, yes--possibly.""you think she's very sick?""well, yes. she's very sick."his face had grown still graver; he sat there as though he hadnever known what it was to hurry.

ann eliza continued to separate the pearl and horn buttons.

suddenly she lifted her eyes and looked at him. "is she going todie?"the doctor laid a kindly hand on hers. "we never say that,miss bunner. human skill works wonders--and at the hospital mrs.

ramy would have every chance.""what is it? what's she dying of?"the doctor hesitated, seeking to substitute a popular phrasefor the scientific terminology which rose to his lips.

"i want to know," ann eliza persisted.

"yes, of course; i understand. well, your sister has had ahard time lately, and there is a complication of causes, resultingin consumption--rapid consumption. at the hospital--""i'll keep her here," said ann eliza quietly.

after the doctor had gone she went on for some time sortingthe buttons; then she slipped the tray into its place on a shelfbehind the counter and went into the back room. she found evelinapropped upright against the pillows, a flush of agitation on hercheeks. ann eliza pulled up the shawl which had slipped from hersister's shoulders.

"how long you've been! what's he been saying?""oh, he went long ago--he on'y stopped to give me aprescription. i was sorting out that tray of buttons. missmellins's girl got them all mixed up."she felt evelina's eyes upon her.

"he must have said something: what was it?""why, he said you'd have to be careful--and stay in bed--andtake this new medicine he's given you.""did he say i was going to get well?""why, evelina!""what's the use, ann eliza? you can't deceive me. i've justbeen up to look at myself in the glass; and i saw plenty of 'em inthe hospital that looked like me. they didn't get well, and iain't going to." her head dropped back. "it don't much matter--i'm about tired. on'y there's one thing--ann eliza--"the elder sister drew near to the bed.

"there's one thing i ain't told you. i didn't want to tellyou yet because i was afraid you might be sorry--but if he says i'mgoing to die i've got to say it." she stopped to cough, and to anneliza it now seemed as though every cough struck a minute from thehours remaining to her.

"don't talk now--you're tired.""i'll be tireder to-morrow, i guess. and i want you shouldknow. sit down close to me--there."ann eliza sat down in silence, stroking her shrunken hand.

"i'm a roman catholic, ann eliza.""evelina--oh, evelina bunner! a roman catholic--you?

oh, evelina, did he make you?"evelina shook her head. "i guess he didn't have no religion;he never spoke of it. but you see mrs. hochmuller was a catholic,and so when i was sick she got the doctor to send me to a romancatholic hospital, and the sisters was so good to me there--and thepriest used to come and talk to me; and the things he said kep' mefrom going crazy. he seemed to make everything easier.""oh, sister, how could you?" ann eliza wailed. she knewlittle of the catholic religion except that "papists" believed init--in itself a sufficient indictment. her spiritual rebellion hadnot freed her from the formal part of her religious belief, andapostasy had always seemed to her one of the sins from which thepure in mind avert their thoughts.

"and then when the baby was born," evelina continued, "hechristened it right away, so it could go to heaven; and after that,you see, i had to be a catholic.""i don't see--""don't i have to be where the baby is? i couldn't ever ha'

gone there if i hadn't been made a catholic. don't you understandthat?"ann eliza sat speechless, drawing her hand away. once moreshe found herself shut out of evelina's heart, an exile from herclosest affections.

"i've got to go where the baby is," evelina feverishlyinsisted.

ann eliza could think of nothing to say; she could only feelthat evelina was dying, and dying as a stranger in her arms. ramyand the day-old baby had parted her forever from her sister.

evelina began again. "if i get worse i want you to send fora priest. miss mellins'll know where to send--she's got an auntthat's a catholic. promise me faithful you will.""i promise," said ann eliza.

after that they spoke no more of the matter; but ann eliza nowunderstood that the little black bag about her sister's neck, whichshe had innocently taken for a memento of ramy, was some kind ofsacrilegious amulet, and her fingers shrank from its contact whenshe bathed and dressed evelina. it seemed to her the diabolicalinstrument of their estrangement.