This tune was off the key, to Mary’s ear.  Sibyl tried to sing with pathos, but she flatted.

And when a lady receives a call from another who suffers under the stress of some feeling which she wishes to conceal, there is not uncommonly developed a phenomenon of duality comparable to the effect obtained by placing two mirrors opposite each other, one clear and the other flawed.  In this case, particularly, Sibyl had an imperfect consciousness of Mary.  The Mary Vertrees that she saw was merely something to be cozened to her own frantic purpose—­a Mary Vertrees who was incapable of penetrating that purpose.  Sibyl sat there believing that she was projecting the image of herself that she desired to project, never dreaming that with every word, every look, and every gesture she was more and more fully disclosing the pitiable truth to the clear eyes of Mary.  And the Sibyl that Mary saw was an overdressed woman, in manner half rustic, and in mind as shallow as a pan, but possessed by emotions that appeared to be strong—­perhaps even violent.  What those emotions were Mary had not guessed, but she began to suspect.

“And Edith’s life would be spoiled,” Sibyl continued.  “It would be a dreadful thing for the whole family.  She’s the very apple of Father Sheridan’s eye, and he’s as proud of her as he is of Jim and Roscoe.  It would be a horrible thing for him to have her marry a man like Robert Lamhorn; but he doesn’t know anything about him, and if somebody doesn’t tell him, what I’m most afraid of is that Edith might get his consent and hurry on the wedding before he finds out, and then it would be too late.  You see, Miss Vertrees, it’s very difficult for me to decide just what it’s my duty to do.”

“I see,” said Mary, looking at her thoughtfully, “Does Miss Sheridan seem to—­to care very much about him?”

“He’s deliberately fascinated her,” returned the visitor, beginning to breathe quickly and heavily.  “Oh, she wasn’t difficult!  She knew she wasn’t in right in this town, and she was crazy to meet the people that were, and she thought he was one of ’em.  But that was only the start that made it easy for him—­and he didn’t need it.  He could have done it, anyway!” Sibyl was launched now; her eyes were furious and her voice shook.  “He went after her deliberately, the way he does everything; he’s as cold-blooded as a fish.  All he cares about is his own pleasure, and lately he’s decided it would be pleasant to get hold of a piece of real money—­and there was Edith!  And he’ll marry her!  Nothing on earth can stop him unless he finds out she won’t have any money if she marries him, and the only person that could make him understand that is Father Sheridan.  Somehow, that’s got to be managed, because Lamhorn is going to hurry it on as fast as he can.  He told me so last night.  He said he was going to marry her the first minute he could persuade her to it—­and little Edith’s all ready to be persuaded!” Sibyl’s eyes flashed green again.  “And he swore he’d do it,” she panted.  “He swore he’d marry Edith Sheridan, and nothing on earth could stop him!”