[From Helen's Diary.]

February, 18—. Well, I really cannot express my feelings. It seems to me that in twenty-four hours I have been metamorphosed and am some one else living in another world.

Now that I have undertaken this, I have no idea of failing. I will succeed, if it costs every thing. I suddenly feel that I am made for this.

Gladys called to-day. Everet had just made a short call and gone.—He did not know whether he left by the front steps to the street, or was making a descent from heaven into the other place—and yet, I made only the least exertion to please, imaginable. It made me feel superb, magnificent, inspired, when I thought of what I can do if I really try.

I felt a mad exultation over Gladys. She was as pale as a ghost, and hardly seemed to know what she was talking about. I should never betray my defeat or difficulty if I should meet with it. I felt such a superiority that I almost felt like shrieking it at her, when remembering how she has deceived me all this time. I was secretly delighted, though, at my astonishing self-control, for she never noticed a thing. She said:

"How I envy your freedom from care and anxiety, and your innocence of all the wire-pulling that some have to do."

She looked fagged out when she said this, I should not have known her. She never spoke in this manner before.

I smiled and said, "I presumed it must be wearing—especially if one was not clever enough to succeed."

She looked at me sharply, and with some surprise. Yesterday I would have shrivelled all up under the look. To-day I just smiled calmly.

If nothing else urged me on—if I were not doing this for Edgar's sake—I should be wild to attempt it just to prove my power and ability superior to Gladys's. To think how completely she has deceived me all this time!

Edgar almost wearied me with affection to-night. One can't be always troubled with sentiment, when one has matters of so much importance on hand.

Of course, I did nothing to wound his feelings but he understood by my manner that I was preoccupied.

He tried to coach me. Coach me! How stupid men are sometimes! He was determined that I should grasp Everet by the collar and hold him while he consented to do as I wished. I gave him to understand that I must be absolutely let alone in this matter; that in an affair like this there was nothing for him to teach me. Such a proceeding would ruin all. Everet would jump out of the window, and never be seen any more. It is my innocence and unworldliness that have attracted him, and it is that that must fascinate him. I must appear to gain nothing by strategy, even in the end, but by pure uncalculating innocence. He must be absolutely under my control before one other step is taken.

If argument would have accomplished his yielding there would be no need of effort on my part. It would have been accomplished long ago. If I am to be mistress of the situation I must work entirely with personal allurement.

To-night, at dinner I made him drink "to my success." It was delicious. He had no more idea of the import of it than of the way my back hair was done. This one little incident so delighted me that I had to laugh and talk incessantly to keep myself within bounds.

Ed dined at home, with us, and when I looked across at him as I made the suggestion, my eyes were fairly dancing at the supreme irony of it, but Edgar did not seem to see its deliciousness, and looked as grave as an owl.

Afterward he said: "Women are incomprehensible. Now—there was no necessity whatever for that little scene at dinner. Absolutely none."

Of course there was none. If there had been, the point would have been lacking.

To-morrow night I give a theatre party—Everet goes—and comes home with me. Heigho!