lead
her in. But she seemed too weak to even make the attempt. When I pulled
her slightly forward, thinking to help her, she tottered, and would have
fallen had I not caught her in my arms. Then, half lifting her, I moved
her forwards. Her feet, relieved of her weight, now seemed able to make
the necessary effort; and so, I almost carrying her, we moved into the
room. She was at the very end of her strength; I had to lift her over
the sill. In obedience to her motion, I closed the French window and
bolted it. I supposed the warmth of the room--though cool, it was warmer
than the damp air without--affected her quickly, for on the instant she
seemed to begin to recover herself. In a few seconds, as though she had
reacquired her strength, she herself pulled the heavy curtain across the
window. This left us in darkness, through which I heard her say in
English:

"Light. Get a light!"

I found matches, and at once lit a candle. As the wick flared, she moved
over to the door of the room, and tried if the lock and bolt were
fastened. Satisfied as to this, she moved towards me, her wet shroud
leaving a trail of moisture on the green carpet. By this time the wax of
the candle had melted sufficiently to let me see her clearly. She was
shaking and quivering as though in an ague; she drew the wet shroud
around her piteously. Instinctively I spoke:

"Can I do anything for you?"

She answered, still in English, and in a voice of thrilling, almost
piercing sweetness, which seemed somehow to go straight to my heart, and
affected me strangely: "Give me warmth."

I hurried to the fireplace. It was empty; there was no fire laid. I
turned to her, and said:

"Wait just a few minutes here. I shall call someone, and get help--and
fire."

Her voice seemed to ring with intensity as she answered without a pause:

"No, no! Rather would I be"--here she hesitated for an instant, but as
she caught sight of her cerements went on hurriedly--"as I am. I trust
you--not others; and you must not betray my trust." Almost instantly she
fell into a frightful fit of shivering, drawing again her death-clothes
close to her, so piteously that it wrung my heart. I suppose I am a
practical man. At any rate, I am accustomed to action. I took from its
place beside my bed a thick Jaeger dressing-gown of dark brown--it was,
of course, of extra length--and held it out to her as I said:

"Put that on. It is the only warm thing here w