ther, I led her to a swinging
couch there, and sat down beside her.

"Point out the path down the hill by which you used to come," I asked of
her.

She shook her head. There are no words to paint how she looked in the
clear morning, except that she seemed its sister.

"It is only the end of a path that matters," she said. "Look instead at
the marsh. Do you see nothing there stranger than a path through the
woods even when trodden by a wilful woman?"

Following her lifted finger, I saw a series of long mounds out there in
the muddy floor not far from the dam. Not high, two or three feet at
most, the mounds formed an irregular square of considerable area.

"The old house!" I exclaimed.

"It was set on fire by the second Desire Michell one night deep in
winter. Her father built this house of yours and put in the dam that
covered the ruins with water. I think he hoped to wash away the horror
upon the place."

"I know so little of your history."

"You can imagine it." She turned her head from me. "The first child came
back from England when it was a man grown, and claimed the house and
name of the first Desire. He settled and married here. For two
generations only sons were born to the Michells. I do not know if the
Dark One came to them. I believe it did, but they were hard, austere men
who beat off evil. Then, a daughter was born. She looked like the first
Desire and she was--not good. She was a scandal to the family. She
listened to It----! The tradition is that she set fire to the house
after a terrible quarrel with her people, but herself perished by some
miscalculation. There were no more girls born for another while after
that. Not until my father's time. He had a sister who resembled the two
Desires of the past. My grandfather brought her up in harshness and
austerity, holding always before her the wickedness to which she was
born. Yet it was no use. She fled from his house with a man no one knew,
and died in Paris after a life of great splendor and heartlessness.
Everyone who loved the Desires suffered. That is why I--covered myself
from--you."

I took her hand, so small a thing to hold and feel flutter in mine.

"But what of me, Desire? The darkness covered no beauty in me, but a
defect. You never saw me until last night and now in the morning. Now
that you know, can you bear with a man who--limps? You, so perfect?"

She turned toward me. Her kohl-dark eyes, vivid as a summer noon, opened
to my anxiou