I knew you must,
because I called you so. But you have been long in coming, almost too
long. But I knew I had to see you again before I died.'

"I broke down then. I was sorely tried. No arms even to put round her!

"'Darling, stay with me for a little, only for a little while!' I
sobbed.

"She shook her head feebly. 'It is no use, my dear,' she said, 'I must
go.'

"'I'll come with you,' I said, 'I'll not live without you.'

"She shook her head again.

"'You must be brave, Bob. I shall be watching you afterwards just as
much as if I still lived on earth. If only I could give you my arms! A
poor, weak woman's arms, but better than none, dear.'

"She died some weeks later. I spent all the time at her bedside, I
hardly left her. Her arms were round me when she died. Shall I ever feel
them round me again? I wonder! You see, they are mine now.

"They came to me gradually. It was very strange at first to have arms
and hands which one couldn't see. I used to keep my eyes shut as much as
possible, and try to fancy that I had never lost my arms.

"I got used to them in time. But I have always been careful not to let
people see me do things that they would know to be impossible for an
armless man. That was what took me to Africa again, because I could get
lost there and do things for myself with these hands."

"'And they twain shall be one flesh,'" I muttered.

"Yes," he said, "I think the explanation must be something of that sort.
There's more than that in it, though; these arms are other than flesh."

He sat silent for a time with his head bowed on his chest. Then he spoke
again:

"I got sick of being alone at last, and was coming back when I met you
at Fourteen Streams. I don't know what I shall do when I do get home. I
can never rest. I have--what do they call it--_Wanderlust_?"

"Does she ever speak to you from that other world?" I asked him.

He shook his head sadly.

"No, never. But I know she lives somewhere beyond this world of ours.
She must, because these arms live. So I try always to act as if she
watches everything. I always try to do the right thing, but, anyway,
these arms and hands would do good of their own accord. Just now up on
the deck I was very frightened. I'd have saved myself at any cost
almost, and let you go. But I could not do that. The hands clutched you.
It is her will, so much stronger and purer than mine, that still
persists. It is only when she does not exert it that I control t