ought hers sympathetically.

Margaret prized the word "Meg" as it came affectionately from his lips.

"Meg, it is all too wonderful!"

Michael said no more; he had buried his face in his two hands. He
would have given his youth to have seen what Margaret had seen.

"Then you don't think it was a dream?"

"How could you have dreamed the very appearance of Akhnaton, or dreamed
his personality, when you have never heard of him?"

"I suppose I couldn't," she said. "But was Akhnaton unlike any other
Pharaoh of Egypt?"

"As unlike as St. Francis was to Nero."

A sudden idea came to Margaret. "But," she said, "he spoke to me in
English, in my own language. If it was really the spirit of Akhnaton,
how could he?"

"Dear Meg, there are more things in divine philosophy than are dreamed
of by you or me. In what language did Our Saviour speak to St.
Francis, who was an Italian, and to St. Catherine?"

"That is true," Margaret said, in a changed tone. "Will you tell me
all about this Pharaoh?"

Michael thought before answering her question, and then he said, "I'd
rather not, not yet."

"But why?"

"Because I don't want to put any ideas into your head. All this has
come perfectly naturally, and through a modern who was totally ignorant
of the message she was conveying. If you were to receive another
message, if you ever were to see Akhnaton again, and you knew all about
him, it would not be the same thing."

"Oh," Margaret said quickly, "I forgot--he said as he disappeared, 'I
will return.'" She gave a deep-drawn sigh and said nervously, "Do you
think he will?"

"Will you be afraid? Were you afraid?" Michael's arm had slipped
almost round her shoulders. It was a moment when close human contact
came very graciously to the girl.

"Afraid? No, he was too gentle, too sad--there was absolutely nothing
to be afraid of. I didn't stop to think of the supernaturalness of the
vision--I was much too interested. If it was a ghost, I shall never be
afraid of ghosts again."

Michael shivered.

Meg looked at him. She had hurt him; she felt a slight shrinking in
his sympathy.

"Don't speak of ghosts, Meg--I hate the term, with all its cheapness
and irreverence!"

"Then you believe in visions? You are convinced that I have not
dreamed all this?"

"If it had been Freddy who had told me, I should have said that he had
been asleep and dreamed it, because he knows all about Akhnaton. We
are constantly discus