changed
you are. The look in your eyes makes me feel that you are not the
same person, and that I have done quite wrong."

'While she was speaking, Mr. D'Arcy had re-entered the room by the
door by which he went out. He had evidently heard the housekeeper's
words.

'"Miss Wynne," he said, "this is Mrs. Titwing, my excellent
housekeeper. She has been attending you during your illness; but your
weakness was so great that you were unconscious of all her kindness."

'I went up to her and kissed her rosy cheek, at which she began to
cry a little. I afterwards found that she was in the habit of crying
a little on most occasions.

'"Will you, then, kindly show me my room?" I said to her. But as she
turned round to lead the way to the room, Mr. D'Arcy said to her,

'"Before you show Miss Wynne the way, I should like one word with
you, Mrs. Titwing, in your room, about the arrangements for the day."

'The two passed out of the room, and again I was left to myself and
my own thoughts.'

V

'Evidently there was some mystery about me,' said Winifred,
continuing her story. 'But the more I tried to think it out the more
puzzling it seemed. How had I been conveyed to this strange new
place? Who was the wizard whose eyes and whose voice began to enslave
me? and what time had passed since he caught me up on Raxton sands?
It seemed exactly like one of those _Arabian Nights_ stories which
you and I used to read together when we were children. The waking up
on the couch, the sight of the end of the other couch behind the
screen, and the tall woman's feet upon it, the voices from unseen
persons in the room, and above all the strange magic of him who
seemed to be the directing genie of the story--all would have seemed
to me unreal had it not been for the prosaic figure of Mrs. Titwing.
About her there could not possibly be any mystery; she was what Miss
Dalrymple would have called "the very embodiment of British
commonplace," and when, after a minute or two, she returned with Mr.
D'Arcy, I went and kissed her again from sheer delight of feeling
the touch of her real, solid; commonplace cheek, and to breathe the
commonplace smell of scented soap. Her bearing, however, towards me
had become entirely changed since she had gone out of the room. She
did not return the kiss, but said, "Shall I show you the way, miss?"
and led the way out.

'She took me through the same dark passage by which I had entered,
and then I found myself in