er.

Like a spirit awakening in Paradise, I accepted the heaven in which
I found myself, and did not inquire how I got there.

This did not last long, however. Suddenly and sharply the moonlight
scene vanished, and I was on Snowdon, and there came a burning
curiosity to know the meaning of this new life--the meaning of the
life of pain that had followed the parting at the cottage door.

V

'Winnie,' I said, 'tell me where we are. I have been very ill since
we parted in your father's cottage. I have had the wildest
hallucinations concerning you; dreams, intolerable dreams. And even
now they hang about me; even now it seems to me that we are far away
from Raxton, surrounded by the hills and peaks of Snowdon. If they
were real _you_ would be the dream, but you are real; this waist is
real.'

'Of course we are on Snowdon, Henry!' said she. 'You must indeed have
been ill--you must now be very ill--to suppose you are at Raxton.'

'But what are we doing here?' I said. 'How did we come here?'

'Let Badoura speak for herself only,' she said, with that arch smile
of hers. She was alluding to the old days at Raxton, when she hoped
that some day her little Camaralzaman would be carried by genii to
her as she sat thinking of him by the magic llyn. 'The genie who
brought me was Sinfi Lovell. But who brought Camaralzaman? That is a
question,' she said, 'I am dying to have answered.'

At the name of Sinfi Lovell the past came flowing in.

'Then there _is_ a Sinfi Lovell, Winnie! And yet she is one of the
figures in the dream. There was no Sinfi Lovell with us at Raxton.'

'Of course there is a Sinfi Lovell! You begin to make me as dazed as
yourself. You have known her well; you and she were seeking me when I
was lost.'

'Then you _were_ lost?' I said. 'That, then, is no dream. And yet if
you were lost you have been--But you are alive, Winnie. Let me
feel the lips on mine again. You are alive! Snowdon told me at last
that you were alive, but I dared not believe it, my darling. I dared
not believe that my misery would end thus--thus.'

There came upon her face an expression of distressed perplexity which
did more than anything else to recall me to my senses.

'Winnie,' I said, 'my brain is whirling. Let us sit down.'

She sat down by my side.

'You thought your Winnie was dead, Henry. Sinfi Lovell has told me
all about it.' Then, looking intently at me, she said, 'And how your
sorrow has changed you, dear!'

'You m