Yes!  “The other” was his betrothed before all the world; but only to die!  The blood rushed through her veins in a hot tide at the thought; she could have laughed aloud and fallen on the neck of every one she met.  What she felt was hideous; malignant spite possessed her; but it gave her rapture—­delicious rapture—­a flower of hell, but with splendid petals and intoxicating perfume.  But its splendor dazzled her and its fragrance presently sickened her.  Sheer horror of herself came over her, and yet she could have shouted with joy each time that the thought flashed through her brain:  “The other must die!”

Her mother feared that her daughter, too, was about to fall ill, her eyes glowed so strangely and she was so restless and nervously excitable.

Since Heliodora had taken the overwhelming news of Orion’s betrothal to Paula with astonishing though sorrowful calmness, to the hot-blooded girl she was nothing, nobody, utterly unworthy of her notice.

To spite her she had committed a crime as like murder as one snake is like another, and imperilled her own mother’s life!  It was enough to drive her to despair, to make her scourge herself with rods!

When Susannah kissed her at parting for the night she complained of a slight sore throat and of her lips, which she fancied must be swollen.  Katharina detained her, questioned her with a trembling voice, put the lamp close to her, and held her breath while she examined her face, her neck, and her arms for the dreadful spots.  But none were to be seen and her mother laughed at her terrors, called her a dutiful, anxious child, and warned her not to be too full of fears, as they were supposed to invite the disease.

All night the girl could not sleep.  Her malicious triumph was past; nothing but painful thoughts and grewsome images haunted her while awake, and pursued her more persistently when she dozed.  By dawn of day her alarm for her mother was so great that she sprang out of bed and went to her room; Susannah was sleeping so soundly that she did not even hear her.  Much relieved Katharina crept back to bed; but in the morning the worst had happened:  Susannah could no longer leave her bed; she was feverish, and on her lips, the very lips which had kissed her child’s infected hair, there were indeed, between her nose and mouth, the first terrible, unmistakable spots.

The leech came and confirmed the fact.—­The house was closed and barred.

The physician and Susannah, who was still in full possession of her senses, wished and insisted that Katharina should withdraw to the gardener’s house, but she refused with defiant obstinacy, saying she would rather die with her mother than leave her.

Quite beside herself she threw herself on the sick woman, and kissed the spots on her mouth to divert the poison into her own blood; but the physician angrily pulled her away, and the sufferer reproved her with tears in her eyes which spoke her fervent affection.