I felt that I had made up my mind to commit a deadly sin, and
that I gloried in it. I had suffered because to love you was a sin;
but I only loved you the more for that reason. Then you slowly drew
me further into the room and pressed me more closely in your arms and
kissed me again, and then--I--oh--I do not know--it is all so vague I
don't know what it meant--but it seemed as if the very foundations of
my life were being swept away. And yet--oh, I cannot explain! I do not
know, myself." And she would have thrown herself headlong on the sofa
had not Dartmouth sprang forward and caught her.

"There, never mind," he said, quickly. "Let that go. It is of no
consequence. A dream like that must necessarily end in a climax of
incoherence and excitement."

He drew her down on the sofa, and for a moment said nothing further.
He had to acknowledge that she had deepened the mystery, and given no
key. A silence fell, and neither moved. Suddenly she raised her head.
"What was your dream?" she demanded.

"The same. I don't pretend to explain it. And I shall not insult your
understanding by inventing weak excuses. If it means anything we will
give the problem no rest until we have solved it. If we cannot solve
it, then we are justified in coming to the conclusion that there is
nothing in it. But I believe we shall get to the bottom of it yet."

"Perhaps," she said, wearily; "I do not know. I only feel that I shall
never be myself again, but must go through life with that woman's
burden of sin and suffering weighing me down." She paused a moment,
and then continued: "In that dream I wore a dress like this, and that
is the reason I put it on to-night. I was getting some things in Paris
before I left, and I bought it thinking you would like it; I had heard
you say that yellow was your favorite color. When my maid opened
the door of my wardrobe to-night to take out a dress, and I saw this
hanging there, it gave me such a shock that I caught at a chair to
keep from falling. And then I felt irresistibly impelled to put it on.
I felt as if it were a shroud, vivid in color as it is; but it had
an uncanny fascination for me, and I experienced a morbid delight in
feeling both spirit and flesh revolt, and yet compelling them to do
my will. I never knew that it was in me to feel so, but I suppose I am
utterly demoralized by so realistically living over again that awful
experience of my childhood. If it happened again I should either be
carr