"She's got no delusions?" "Oh, dear, no. She's nervous and over-strained, that's all. She'll be all right in a few days." "Then," said Dale to himself, as the Doctor bustled off, "all I can say is that I don't understand women." CHAPTER XXIII. =A Morbid Scruple.= Mrs. Delane had ceased to struggle against the inevitable, and she hailed her daughter's desire to see Dale Bannister as an encouraging sign of a return to a normal state of mind. Strange as Janet's demeanor had been since that fearful evening, there could not be anything seriously wrong with her when her wishes and impulses ran in so natural a channel. Mrs. Delane received Dale with an approach to enthusiasm, and sent him up to the little boudoir where Janet was with an affectionate haste which in itself almost amounted to a recognition of his position. "You must be gentle with her, please, Mr. Bannister," she said. "She wanted so much to see for herself that you were really alive that we could not refuse to allow her, but the Doctor is most strict in ordering that she should not be excited." Dale promised to be careful, and went upstairs without a word about the strange note he had received; that was a matter between Janet and himself. Janet was sitting, propped up with cushions, on a low chair, and she waved Dale to a seat near her. When, before sitting down, he came to her and kissed her, she did not repel his caress, but received it silently, again motioning him to the chair. Dale knelt down on the floor beside her. "How pale you are, poor dear!" he said. "And why do you write me such dreadful things?" "I wanted," she began in a low voice, "to tell you, Dale, that I did try, that I really did try, to call out. I did not forsake you without trying." "What do you mean, darling? How have you forsaken me?" "When he caught hold of me, there was plenty of time to call out. I might have warned you--I might have warned you. I might have done what she did. But I couldn't. I tried, but I couldn't. I was afraid. He said he would blow my head to bits. I was afraid, and I left her to save you." "My dearest girl," he said, taking her hand, "you did the only thing. If you had cried out, he would have murdered you first and me afterward; all the chambers of the revolver were loaded. I would have died a thousand times sooner than have one of your dear hairs roughened; but, as it was, your death wouldn't have saved me." She had looked at him for a moment as if with sudden hope, but, as he finished, she shook her head and said: "I didn't think anything about that. I was just afraid, and I should have let you be killed." "My sweet, who ever expected you to condemn yourself to certain death on the chance of saving me? It would be monstrous!" "She did it," said Janet in low tones. Dale paused for a minute. "She was not in his clutches," he said. "He might have missed her." "Ah, no, no!" she broke out suddenly. "You run down what she did to spare me! That's worst of all."