"Miss Marsham--the head mistress, you know--of course she's very old--but she believes--terribly. It's an awfully religious school. It scares some of the children. I used to laugh, but now, since Louise died, it scares me, though I am grown up. I've no convictions--and she is certain--and then I get these nightmares. I hear her calling--for water." The flat matter-of-fact tone alarmed him more than emotion would have done. "Water?" "_For I am tormented in this flame._ I hear her every night--wailing." Her eyes strained after something that he could not see. He found no words. She returned with an effort. "Of course, when it's over--I know it's imagination. My sense tells me so--in the daytime. Only I can't be sure. If only I could be sure! If some one would tell me to be sure. It's the reasoning it out for myself--all day--and going back to the dreams all night." "How long has this been going on?" he asked curtly. "Ever since--when I came home from Clare's--that night. I'd slept like a log. Then I woke up suddenly. I thought I heard Louise calling. I'd forgotten she was dead. Every night it happens--as soon as I go to sleep, she comes. Always trying to speak to me. I hear her screaming with pain--wanting help. Never any words. Do you think I'm mad? I know it's only a dream--but every night, you know----" "You're not going to dream any more," he said, with a determination that belied his inward sense of dismay. "But go on--let's have the rest of it." "There isn't much. Just dreams. It's been a miserable year. I couldn't be cheerful always, you know--and I used to dread going to bed so. It made me stupid all day. And Clare--Clare didn't quite understand. Oh--I did want to tell her so. But you can't worry people. I'm afraid Elsbeth got worried--she hates it if you don't eat and have a colour. She packed me off here at last." She drew a long breath. "This blessed place! You don't know how I love it. I feel a different girl. All this space and air and freedom. What is it that the country does to one's mind? I've slept. No dreaming. Sleep that's like a hot bath. Can you imagine what that is after these months? Oh, Roger! I thought I'd stopped dreaming for good--I was forgetting----" "Go on forgetting," he said. "You can. I'll help you. You had a shock. It made you ill. You're getting well again. That's all." "I'm not," she said. "I'm going mad. To-day, in that wood.... Louise came running after me--and I was awake...." Suddenly she gave a little ripple of high-pitched laughter. "Oh, Mr. Lumsden! Isn't this a ridiculous conversation? And your face--you're so absurd when you frown.... You make me laugh.... You make me laugh...." She broke off. Roger, with a swift movement, had turned and was standing over her. "Now shut up!" he said sharply. "Shut up! D'you hear? Shut up this instant, and sit down." He put his hand on her shoulder and jerked her back into the chair.