upon her shoulder, and called her, "My love!--good sister!" For a
great mute space they clung together. Their lips met and they kissed
convulsively. But when Dahlia had close view of Rhoda's face, she drew
back, saying in an under-breath,--

"Don't cry. I see my misery when you cry."

Rhoda promised that she would check her tears, and they sat quietly,
side by side, hand in hand. Mrs. Sumfit, outside, had to be dismissed
twice with her fresh brews of supplicating tea and toast, and the cakes
which, when eaten warm with good country butter and a sprinkle of salt,
reanimate (as she did her utmost to assure the sisters through the
closed door) humanity's distressed spirit. At times their hands
interchanged a fervent pressure, their eyes were drawn to an equal gaze.

In the middle of the night Dahlia said: "I found a letter from Edward
when I came here."

"Written--Oh, base man that he is!" Rhoda could not control the impulse
to cry it out.

"Written before," said Dahlia, divining her at once. "I read it; did not
cry. I have no tears. Will you see it? It is very short-enough; it
said enough, and written before--" She crumpled her fingers in Rhoda's;
Rhoda, to please her, saying "Yes," she went to the pillow of the bed,
and drew the letter from underneath.

"I know every word," she said; "I should die if I repeated it. 'My wife
before heaven,' it begins. So, I was his wife. I must have broken his
heart--broken my husband's." Dahlia cast a fearful eye about her; her
eyelids fluttered as from a savage sudden blow. Hardening her mouth to
utter defiant spite: "My lover's," she cried. "He is. If he loves me and
I love him, he is my lover, my lover, my lover! Nothing shall stop
me from saying it--lover! and there is none to claim me but he. Oh,
loathsome! What a serpent it is I've got round me! And you tell me God
put it. Do you? Answer that; for I want to know, and I don't know where
I am. I am lost! I am lost! I want to get to my lover. Tell me, Rhoda,
you would curse me if I did. And listen to me. Let him open his arms to
me, I go; I follow him as far as my feet will bear me. I would go if it
lightened from heaven. If I saw up there the warning, 'You shall not!' I
would go. But, look on me!" she smote contempt upon her bosom. "He would
not call to such a thing as me. Me, now? My skin is like a toad's to
him. I've become like something in the dust. I could hiss like adders.
I am quite impenitent. I pray by my bedside, my h