I sat and watched him; then, as I realized all that I must
yet gather from his lips, I broke the stillness by saying, in my lowest
and most suggestive tone, these two words:

"And Marah?"

The name did not seem unwelcome. Striking his breast, he cried:

"She lies here! Though she despised me, deceived me, broke my heart in
life, and in death betrayed a devotion for another that was at once my
dishonor and the downfall of my every hope, I have never been able to
cast her out of my heart. I love her, and shall ever love her, and so I
am never lonely. For in my dreams I imagine that death has changed her.
That she can see now where truth and beauty lie; that she would fain
come back to them and me; and that she does, walking with softened steps
through the forest, beaming upon me in the moon rays and smiling upon
me in the sunshine till--"

Great sobs broke from the man's surcharged breast. He flung himself down
on the floor of the cave and hid his face in his hands. He had forgotten
that I had come on an errand of vengeance. He had forgotten the object
of that vengeance; he had forgotten everything but her.

I saw the mistake I had made, and for the moment I quailed before the
prospect of rectifying it. He had shown me his heart. I had peered into
its depths, and it seemed an impossible thing to tear the last hope from
his broken life; to show her in her true light to his horrified eyes; to
tell him she was not dead; that it was Honora Urquhart who was dead; and
that the woman he mourned and beheld in his visions as a sanctified
spirit was not only living upon the fruits of a crime, but triumphing in
them; that, in short, he had thrown away communion with men to brood
upon a demon.

My feelings were so strong, my shrinking so manifest, that he noticed
them at last. Rising up, he surveyed me with a growing apprehension.

"How you look at me!" he cried. "It is not only pity for the past I see
in your eyes, but fear for the future. What is it? What can threaten me
now of importance enough to call up such an expression to your face?
Since Marah is dead--"

"Wait!" I cried. "First let me ask if Marah is dead." His face, which
was turned toward me, grew so pale I felt my own heart contract.

"If--Marah--is--dead!" he gasped, growing huskier with each intonation
till the last word was almost unintelligible.

"Yes," I continued, ignoring his glance and talking very rapidly; "her
body was never found. You have no proof