"Very well," said Honora, "I will go away to my own room and think of you all night, and pray for you, and in the morning, at seven o'clock, I will come back to you. Then, perhaps you will tell me--for you have got something to _do_, have you not?" "I have to do something, or not to do something." "If you do that something, what will happen?" "Apparently nothing, only I--" "I understand," said Honora. "The thing you have got to do is wrong. Suppose you don't do it--" "Then--then--oh, Honora--I could wish to-night that I had never lived to grow up to my present age. I'm nearly mad with misery!" "I will come to you in the morning," said Honora. "But before I go, I wish to say something--that of course you won't do whatever the thing is; for if you keep yourself right, other things must come right somehow." Then Honora kissed Penelope, and left the room. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. A WONDERFUL DREAM. Penelope stayed awake for a very long time after Honora had left her. When at last she fell asleep, however, she had a wonderful, an extraordinary dream. She thought that an angel came into her room and looked down at her, and gave her the choice between the downward and the upward roads. The angel carried a crown in his hand; and he pointed to it, and said that it was the crown of thorns. He asked her if she thought that by any means she were worthy to wear it. He said that if she could prove herself to be thus worthy, nothing else really mattered. Having said these words, he laid the crown by her side and went away, very slowly vanishing, first into thin mist, then into nothing. Penelope in her dream found herself all alone with the crown of thorns. The thorns were all glistening with dew drops, as though the crown had been freshly made. She noticed that the thorns were sharp and of the sort that might hurt her very much, were she to wear the crown. Nevertheless, she started quite happily to her feet and, raising the crown, placed it for an instant on her head. It gave her very great pain but at the same time immense courage. She did not think she would mind even bitter shame if she was conscious of that crown surrounding her brow. She thought she would like to look at herself in the mirror and see her own reflection with the crown of thorns about her. She imagined, in her dream, that she crossed the room and stood before the long glass. She saw her own reflection quite distinctly--her white night dress with its frills, her little pale face, her golden hair. But--lo, and behold! the crown itself was invisible! She put up her hand to touch it. She felt it quite distinctly, and its thorns pierced her hand and hurt her head, but she could not see it. She stared hard at her own reflection. Then there came a noise outside the door and Penelope awoke.