church path which goes up the hill at the back of the house,
and my heart listened for a footstep that I longed to hear. Then there
came a sound of singing from beyond the hill, and the words of the song
were sad, for they told of one who had sailed away and returned no more,
and presently between the apple trees I saw a white figure on its crest.
Slowly it came towards me and I knew that it was she for whom I waited,
Lily my beloved. Now she ceased to sing, but drew on gently and her face
seemed very sad. Moreover it was the face of a woman in middle life,
but still most beautiful, more beautiful indeed than it had been in the
bloom of youth. She had reached the foot of the hill and was turning
towards the little garden gate, when I came forward from the shadow of
the trees, and stood before her. Back she started with a cry of fear,
then grew silent and gazed into my face.

'So changed,' she murmured; 'can it be the same? Thomas, is it you
come back to me from the dead, or is this but a vision?' and slowly and
doubtingly the dream wraith stretched out her arms as though to clasp
me.

Then I awoke. I awoke and lo! before me stood a fair woman clothed in
white, on whom the moonlight shone as in my dream, and her arms were
stretched towards me lovingly.

'It is I, beloved, and no vision,' I cried, springing from my bed and
clasping her to my breast to kiss her. But before my lips touched hers I
saw my error, for she whom I embraced was not Lily Bozard, my betrothed,
but Otomie, princess of the Otomie, who was called my wife. Then I knew
that this was the saddest and the most bitter of dreams that had been
sent to mock me, for all the truth rushed into my mind. Losing my hold
of Otomie, I fell back upon the bed and groaned aloud, and as I fell I
saw the flush of shame upon her brow and breast. For this woman loved
me, and thus my act and words were an insult to her, who could guess
well what prompted them. Still she spoke gently.

'Pardon me, Teule, I came but to watch and not to waken you. I came also
that I may see you alone before the daybreak, hoping that I might be of
service, or at the least, of comfort to you, for the end draws near. Say
then, in your sleep did you mistake me for some other woman dearer and
fairer than I am, that you would have embraced me?'

'I dreamed that you were my betrothed whom I love, and who is far
away across the sea,' I answered heavily. 'But enough of love and such
matters. What hav