so jealousy of Maria Addolorata, and another hatred which was deeper
and stronger and more vengeful than any she owed Sor Tommaso. She felt,
rather than understood, that Dalrymple loved the nun with all his heart.
She had spoken of her to him and had watched his face, and had seen the
quick, savage glare of his eyes, though his voice had only expressed his
annoyance. As the vision of him rose before her, she saw him as he had
been when the angry blush had overspread his face to the roots of his
hair.

The image fixed itself. In the dim shadow behind it, she saw the face of
Maria Addolorata like a death-mask, and those strange, deep eyes of the
nun's looking scornfully at her over the man's shoulder, though she
forgot him in the woman's deadly fascination. She stared, unable to
close her lids, as it seemed to her, though she longed to shut out the
sight. Then a dull noise seemed to be in her ears, a noise that was not
a sound, but the stunning effect on her brain of a sound not heard but
imagined. There were great circles of light around the nun's head, which
cut through Dalrymple's face and then hid it. They were like glories,
like the halos about the heads of saints. Annetta was angry with them,
for she was sure that Maria Addolorata was bad, and sinned in her
throat.

"An evil death on you and all your house!" cried the angry peasant girl,
in a low voice.

"Death!" She could not tell whence the echo came back to her, in a tone
strange to her ears--for it was her own, perhaps.

She was startled. The vision vanished, and she sat up on her bed with a
quick movement, suddenly wide awake. The pain must have passed. No--it
came again, but with far less keenness. She felt her face with her
hands, and laughed softly, for she knew that she was alive. It was
night, and she must have lain some time there all alone, for there was a
silvery, misty something through the darkness, the white dawn of
moonrise, which is not like the dawn of day, nor like the departing
twilight. As she sat up she saw the outline of the hills, jagged against
the crosses of the lead-joined panes in the window. There was the
moon-dawn sending up its soft radiance to the sky. A little longer she
watched, and a single bright point sent one level ray straight into her
face. A moment more and the room was flooded with light so that she
could see the smallest objects distinctly.

"But I am alive!" she exclaimed in a soft, glad tone. "The brigand only
did