ufficiently to let the
minutes pass with a lessened horror and alarm.

This was in the first quarter of the night. The dawn was wearing near.
Sedgett had been seen by Rhoda; a quiet interview; a few words on either
side, attention paid to them by neither. But the girl doated on his
ugliness; she took it for plain proof of his worthiness; proof too that
her sister must needs have seen the latter very distinctly, or else she
could not have submitted.

Dahlia looked at the window-blinds and at the candlelight. The little
which had been spoken between her and her sister in such a chasm of
time, gave a terrible swiftness to the hours. Half shrieking, she
dropped her head in Rhoda's lap. Rhoda, thinking that with this
demonstration she renounced the project finally, prepared to say what
she had to say, and to yield. But, as was natural after a paroxysm of
weakness, Dahlia's frenzy left no courage behind it.

Dahlia said, as she swept her brows, "I am still subject to nervous
attacks."

"They will soon leave you," said Rhoda, nursing her hand.

Dahlia contracted her lips. "Is father very unforgiving to women?"

"Poor father!" Rhoda interjected for answer, and Dahlia's frame was
taken with a convulsion.

"Where shall I see him to-morrow?" she asked; and, glancing from the
beamless candle to the window-blinds "Oh! it's day. Why didn't I sleep!
It's day! where am I to see him?"

"At Robert's lodgings. We all go there."

"We all go?--he goes?"

"Your husband will lead you there."

"My heaven! my heaven! I wish you had known what this is, a little--just
a little."

"I do know that it is a good and precious thing to do right," said
Rhoda.

"If you had only had an affection, dear! Oh I how ungrateful I am to
you."

"It is only, darling, that I seem unkind to you," said Rhoda.

"You think I must do this? Must? Why?"

"Why?" Rhoda pressed her fingers. "Why, when you were ill, did you not
write to me, that I might have come to you?"

"I was ashamed," said Dahlia.

"You shall not be ashamed any more, my sister."

Dahlia seized the window-blind with her trembling finger-tips, and
looked out on the day. As if it had smitten her eyeballs, she covered
her face, giving dry sobs.

"Oh! I wish--I wish you had known what this is. Must I do it? His face!
Dear, I am very sorry to distress you. Must I do it? The doctor says I
am so strong that nothing will break in me, and that I must live, if I
am not killed. But, if I