oom without the least sound, reached the bed,
and knelt down beside it. Her hand was feeling for him, it touched his
neck, he raised his head slightly from the pillow and her arm, gliding
like a snake round his neck drew his head towards her; then her lips,
blindly seeking, found his and clung to them for a moment.

Nothing could be more ghostly, more terrible, and yet more lovely than
that kiss, the kiss of a spirit, the embrace of a soul rising from the
profound abysm of sleep to find its mate.

Then her lips withdrew and he lay praying to God, as few men have ever
prayed, that she might not wake.

He felt the arm withdrawing from around his neck, she rose, wavered for a
moment, and then passed away towards the window. The lace curtains parted
as though drawn aside, closed again, and she was gone.

He left his bed and came out on the piazza. Craning over he caught a
glimpse of her returning along the lower piazza and vanishing.

Coming back to his room he saw something lying on the floor by his bed; it
was a letter; he struck a match, lit the candle and picked the letter up.
It was just a folded piece of paper, it had been sealed, but the seal was
broken, and sitting down on the side of the bed he spread it open, but his
hands were shaking so that he had to rest it on his knee.

It was not from Phyl. That letter had been written many, many years ago,
the ink was faded and the handwriting of another day.

He read it.

"Not to-night. I have to go to the Calhouns. It is just as well for I have
a dread of people suspecting if we meet too often....

"Sometimes I feel as if I were deceiving him and everybody. I am, and I
don't care. Oh, my darling! my darling! my darling! If the whole world
were against you I would love you all the more. I will love you all my
life, and I will love you when I am dead."

It was the letter of Juliet to her lover.

He turned it over and looked at the seal with the little dove upon it. He
knew of Juliet's letters, and he knew at once that this was one of them,
and he guessed vaguely that she had been reading it when sleep overtook
her and that it had formed part of the inspiration that led her to him.
But the whole truth he would never know.

* * * * *

A blazing red Cardinal was singing in the magnolia tree by the gate,
butterflies were chasing one another above the flowers; it was seven
o'clock and the blue, lazy, lovely morning was unf