e to come to
Morton Hall, even when the fires of hell burnt in my soul! Now I knew
why I had heard the strange words, "Visit her tomb!"

Merciful Heaven, from what had I saved her? Suppose she had regained
consciousness while within the narrow confines of that narrow coffin!
No air, no room, no light! The horror of the thought is enough to
drive one mad; what then must the reality be?

This flashed through my mind in a moment, but I did not stay to think
of it. How could I? The dread "might be" had not become a reality,
and my Ruth--the Ruth that I had been mourning as dead, Ruth for whom
my heart had been weeping tears of blood--was alive; she was sitting up
in her coffin, she uttered a cry. Ruth was not lost for ever.

And still I did not know what to do; still I could not act or speak!
My mind was confused, my head was dizzy; the very vault in which I
stood seemed to whirl around.

For a second we gazed into each other eyes; she with a fearful, yet
curious, wondering look, I with a look of madness, at once of joy, of
fear, of dread!

Then she spoke, slowly, tremblingly, but still clearly, and I
remembered the voice.

"What is this? Where am I? Is this Heaven?"

"All is well!" I whispered.

"It must be," she said, in a dazed kind of way. "I am so rested, so
free from pain, and then your voice is so familiar. Where am I, and
who are you?"

"Think," I said; "but do not be afraid; remember where you were last,
and then know that all is well."

"All is well," she repeated slowly, as if trying to impress the thought
on her half-awakened mind, "I am so glad."

"You are safe here," I went on, "no one shall harm you in any way. Do
not be afraid whatever you may see."

She looked around the vault, then a look of horror came into her eyes
as she saw where she sat.

"I am in a coffin!" she gasped. "Am I dead?"

"No," I said, "it is all a mistake; but all is well. Think, try and
remember the past."

I saw that she made a mental effort, and then slowly light came into
her eyes.

"I was very ill," she said, "and so weak and weary. I wanted to die
because--because--what was it? Oh, I remember now--because I was to
wed--Wilfred, and I did not love him, and my wedding robe was made, and
the wedding day was fixed, and I gave up hope that he was ever coming
home."

My heart began to beat with joy. Life and light came back to my heart.
That "he" meant me--Roger.

"And then?" I said, almost uncons