changed, but it's all for the better. She's quite a woman; she's a
perfect brunette; and the nose I used to laugh at suits her face and
those black, thick eyebrows of hers; my pet! Oh, why is she here?
What's meant by it? I knew nothing of her coming. Is she sent on
purpose?"

Rhoda did not stir. The tone of Dahlia's speaking, low and almost awful
to her, laid a flat hand on her, and kept her still.

"I came for my Bible," she heard Dahlia say. "I promised mother--oh, my
poor darling mother! And Dody lying in my bed! Who would have thought
of such things? Perhaps heaven does look after us and interfere. What
will become of me? Oh, you pretty innocent in your sleep! I lie for
hours, and can't sleep. She binds her hair in a knot on the pillow, just
as she used to in the old farm days!"

Rhoda knew that her sister was bending over her now, but she was almost
frigid, and could not move.

Dahlia went to the looking-glass. "How flushed I am!" she murmured.
"No; I'm pale, quite white. I've lost my strength. What can I do? How
could I take mother's Bible, and run from my pretty one, who expects me,
and dreams she'll wake with me beside her in the morning! I can't--I
can't If you love me, Edward, you won't wish it."

She fell into a chair, crying wildly, and muffling her sobs. Rhoda's
eyelids grew moist, but wonder and the cold anguish of senseless sympathy
held her still frost-bound. All at once she heard the window open. Some
one spoke in the street below; some one uttered Dahlia's name. A deep
bell swung a note of midnight.