"Martha Hyde! Martha! my husband is giving her flowers—passion-flowers! She asks him to put them in her hair! What does that mean, say?"
She became so violently agitated that I thought it best to rouse her. I leaned over her and shook her arm slightly. The change of position seemed to alter the dream, and once more she slept quietly.
I went back to the window, and sat looking out behind the curtains. It was sunset, and gorgeously beautiful. But in the distraction of my thoughts I could not heed its loveliness.
While I sat there I saw Mr. Lee and Mrs. Dennison pass along one of the paths. They had been out on the upper terrace, and were approaching the house. The lady had no bonnet on, and wreathed in her hair I saw some superb passion-flowers which the poor wife had described in her dream.
I grew sick and faint with doubt and horror. I must do something; I could not longer sit passive and dumb, and see that woman wreck all our lives. But what to do? which way to turn?
Alas! I was very helpless after all! There was no one to whom I could confide my suspicions—no one to whom I could open my heart, and the only hope I had was in that wild girl, who had understood the real character of our visitor so much more quickly than any of her superiors.
While I was thinking of this thus painfully, the door of the inner room opened, and Lottie stood there, beckoning to me.
I went into her chamber, and she closed the door. She was in great excitement and glee.
"Babylon's been at it," she whispered.
"At what?"