and lay my hands upon its antidote. But you cannot
tame the tiger when you are beneath his claws. You can
but try to writhe away from him. Ah, when I look in
the glass and see my own dark eyes and clear-cut
Spanish face, I long for a vitriol splash or a bout of
the small-pox. One or the other might have saved me
from this calamity.

I am inclined to think that I may have trouble to-
night. There are two things which make me fear so.
One is that I met Mrs. Wilson in the street, and that
she tells me that Miss Penclosa is better, though still
weak. I find myself wishing in my heart that the
illness had been her last. The other is that Professor
Wilson comes back in a day or two, and his presence
would act as a constraint upon her. I should not fear
our interviews if a third person were present. For
both these reasons I have a presentiment of trouble to-
night, and I shall take the same precautions as before.

April 10. No, thank God, all went well last night. I
really could not face the gardener again. I locked my
door and thrust the key underneath it, so that I had to
ask the maid to let me out in the morning. But the
precaution was really not needed, for I never had any
inclination to go out at all. Three evenings in
succession at home! I am surely near the end of my
troubles, for Wilson will be home again either today or
tomorrow. Shall I tell him of what I have gone through
or not? I am convinced that I should not have the