I harmed you not, even in my dreams, dear." Madelon, standing quite free of the clinging blackberry vines, held up her dark head like an empress, and looked at him.

In truth she felt little pity for Lot Gordon then, for she liked not being made to follow other than Burr even in a man's dreams.

Still, when she spoke it was not unkindly, for in spite of this jealousy of herself for Burr, and in spite of her inability to understand such worship of herself, when she was spent in worship of another, she remembered how she had nearly taken the life of this man, and how he had striven to shield her, though against her will, and on hard and selfish conditions, and how he had at last sacrificed himself to set her free.
"Lot," said she, "there must be no more of this.

I am almost your cousin's wife.

You have no right." And then she repeated it passionately.