t
night while you were nursing Clara; but this morning--here--take your
pistol. No thanks!" he cried, holding up his hand. "I do not like them;
that is the only way you can annoy me now."

He began to walk forward across the links to meet the boat, and I followed
a step or two behind. In front of the pavilion I paused to see where Mr.
Huddlestone had fallen; but there was no sign of him, nor so much as a
trace of blood.

"Graden Floe," said Northmour.

He continued to advance till we had come to the head of the beach.

"No farther, please," said he. "Would you like to take her to Graden
House?"

"Thank you," replied I; "I shall try to get her to the minister at Graden
Wester."

The prow of the boat here grated on the beach, and a sailor jumped ashore
with a line in his hand.

"Wait a minute, lads!" cried Northmour; and then lower and to my private
ear, "You had better say nothing of all this to her," he added.

"On the contrary!" I broke out, "she shall know everything that I can
tell."

"You do not understand," he returned, with an air of great dignity. "It
will be nothing to her; she expects it of me. Good-by!" he added, with a
nod.

I offered him my hand.

"Excuse me," said he. "It's small, I know; but I can't push things quite
so far as that. I don't wish any sentimental business, to sit by your
hearth a white-haired wanderer, and all that. Quite the contrary: I hope
to God I shall never again clap eyes on either one of you."

"Well, God bless you, Northmour!" I said heartily.

"Oh, yes," he returned.

He walked down the beach; and the man who was ashore gave him an arm on
board, and then shoved off and leaped into the bows himself. Northmour
took the tiller; the boat rose to the waves, and the oars between the
tholepins sounded crisp and measured in the morning air.

They were not yet half way to the "Red Earl," and I was still watching
their progress, when the sun rose out of the sea.

One word more, and my story is done. Years after, Northmour was killed
fighting under the colors of Garibaldi for the liberation of the Tyrol.

Wilkie Collins

_The Dream Woman_

_A Mystery in Four Narratives_

THE FIRST NARRATIVE

INTRODUCTORY STATEMENT OF THE FACTS BY PERCY FAIRBANK

I

"Hullo, there! Hostler! Hullo-o-o!"

"My dear! why don't you look for the bell?"

"I have looked--there is no bell."

"And nobody in the yard. How very extraordinary! Call again, dear."

"Hostler!