She returned to the spot, and breaking off a hazel switch, dragged the
paper out from where it lay and carefully smoothed it. Then she raised
a piece of turf, hid the paper underneath and rolled a stone on the
top. It was a hope that lay buried there, and also a proof--of what?
That she had committed a crime? She felt that she had. She had done a
wrong, she had shown herself naked before the other sex.

From this day on a struggle went on in her heart. Ambition and fear of
publicity strove within her, and she was unable to come to a decision.

In the following autumn her father died. As he had been addicted to
gambling, and more often lost than won, he left debts behind him. But
in smart society these things are of no account. There was no
necessity for Helena to earn her living in a shop, for a hitherto
unknown aunt came forward and offered her a home.

But her father's death wrought a complete change in her position. No
more salutes; the officers of the regiment nodded to her in a friendly
fashion, the lieutenants asked her to dance. She saw plainly that the
respect shown to her had not been shown to her personally, but merely
to her rank. She felt degraded and a lively sympathy for all subalterns
was born in her; she even felt a sort of hatred for all those who
enjoyed her former privileges. Side by side with this feeling grew up
a yearning for personal appreciation, a desire to win a position
surpassing all others, although it might not figure in the Army list.

She longed to distinguish herself, to win fame, and, (why not?) to
rule. She possessed one talent which she had cultivated to some
extent, although she had never risen above the average; she played the
piano. She began to study harmony and talked of the sonata in G minor