He will not trouble you. See; I kiss the Book, and swear to you, my
beloved! I speak truth. Come to me, dear." Rhoda put her arms up
entreatingly, but Dahlia stepped back.

"You are not deceitful? You are not cold? You are not inhuman?
Inhuman! You are not? You are not? Oh, my God! Look at her!"

The toneless voice was as bitter for Rhoda to hear as the accusations.
She replied, with a poor smile: "I am only not deceitful. Come, and see.
You will not be disturbed."

"What am I tied to?" Dahlia struggled feebly as against a weight of
chains. "Oh! what am I tied to? It's on me, tight like teeth. I can't
escape. I can't breathe for it. I was like a stone when he asked me--
marry him!--loved me! Some one preached--my duty! I am lost, I am lost!
Why? you girl!--why?--What did you do? Why did you take my hand when I
was asleep and hurry me so fast? What have I done to you? Why did you
push me along?--I couldn't see where. I heard the Church babble. For
you--inhuman! inhuman! What have I done to you? What have you to do
with punishing sin? It's not sin. Let me be sinful, then. I am. I am
sinful. Hear me. I love him; I love my lover, and," she screamed out,
"he loves me!"

Rhoda now thought her mad.

She looked once at the rigid figure of her transformed sister, and
sitting down, covered her eyes and wept.

To Dahlia, the tears were at first an acrid joy; but being weak, she fell
to the bed, and leaned against it, forgetting her frenzy for a time.