One of the most imperative of these was, that I was never to
reveal to any one that Evelyn was not my own half-sister.
"You are not called upon to tell a story, Miriam, only to give them no
satisfaction. You see they might as well think part of all this wealth,
which came from your mother, is mine. It will in no way affect the
reality--only their demeanor--for they every one worship money."
"I would not care for such girls, sister Evelyn, nor what they thought,"
I rejoined. "Besides, are you not an earl's granddaughter; why not boast
of that instead, which would be the truth?"
"An earl's fiddlestick! What do you suppose American girls would care
for that? Nor would they believe it, even, unless I had diamonds and
coronet and every thing to match. Your mother had diamonds, I know, but
mine had not. By-the-by, where are they, Miriam? I have never seen
them."
"I do not know, Evelyn," I replied, gravely. "I have never thought about
them until now, I am so sorry your heart is set upon such things. You
know what Mamma Constance used to tell us."
"Oh, yes, I remember she croaked continually, as all delicate, doomed
people do, I believe. It was well enough in her case, as she _had_ to
die; but, as for me--look at me, Miriam Monfort! Do I look like death?
No; victory, rather!" and she straightened her elastic form exultingly.
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