ver the sighing
waters illumined by an August moon. In the distance she watched the
flashes of a lighthouse and counted the seconds between them....

Suddenly she froze with terror at the sight of a black sleeve, a man's
arm, pushed in cautiously through the door, and a moment later Julian
entered. She saw him plainly in the moonlight. He wore a dinner coat. He
looked handsome but dissipated. His face was flushed, his dress
disordered. He came to her bed and caught her in his arms. He kissed
her. He drew her to him, close to him. She remembered the perfume of his
hair. He said she belonged to him. He was not going to let her go.
Promises did not matter--nothing mattered. This was a delicious summer
night and--

"_Oh God, let Thy love descend upon Penelope and strengthen her_,"
prayed Seraphine, kneeling by the couch.

The dream moved on relentlessly toward its inevitable catastrophe.
Penelope tried to resist the intruder, but she knew it was in vain. She
wept, protested, pleaded, but she knew that presently she would be swept
in a current of fierce desire, she would wish to surrender, she would be
incapable of _not_ surrendering.

"_Oh God, let the spirit of the mother come close to her imperilled
child_," prayed Seraphine.

In her dream Penelope was yielding. She had ceased to struggle. She was
clasped in her husband's arms and already was turning willing and
responsive lips to his, when her eyes fell upon the porthole, through
which the distant lighthouse was sending her a message--it seemed like a
message of love and encouragement. She saw the mighty shaft towering
serenely above dark rocks and crashing waters, and watched it change
with beautiful gradations of light into a rugged cross to which a woman
was clinging desperately. The waves beat against her, the winds buffeted
her, but she cried to God for help and--then, as she slept Penelope
recalled Dr. Leroy's words and, still dreaming, stretched out her hands
to the Cross, praying with all her strength that her sins might be
forgiven, that her soul might be cleansed, that she might be saved from
evil by the power of God's love.

Instantly the torture of her dream was relieved. The brutal arms that
had clasped her fell away. The ravisher, cheated of his victim, drew
back scowling and slowly faded from her view, while from a distance a
white figure with countenance radiant and majestic approached swiftly
and Penelope knew it was the pure spirit of her mother