on rocks, being eaten alive by vultures, wandering for aeons in red-
hot waterless deserts, and other horrors. However illusory and
tantalizing, this was at least a glorious dream, a delirium to
welcome, a wondrous change indeed--to seem to be holding the hand of
Lucille while she gazed into his eyes and, from time to time, pressed
her lips to his forehead. A good job most of the bandages were gone or
she could hardly have done that, even in a dream. And how wondrously
_real!_ Her hand felt quite solid, there were tears trickling down
her cheeks, tears that sometimes dropped on to his own hand with an
incredible effect of actuality. It was even more vivid than his
Sword-dream which was always so extraordinarily realistic and clear.
And there, yes, by Jove, was dear old Auntie Yvette, smiling and
weeping simultaneously. Such a dream was the next best thing to
reality--save that it brought home to one too vividly what one had
lost. Pain of that kind was nevertheless a magnificent change from the
other ghastly nightmares, of the wholly maleficent kind. This was a
kindly, helpful pain....It is so rare to see the faces of our
best-beloved in dreams ... Sleep was going to be something other than
a procession of hideous nightmares then ...

"I believe he knew me, Auntie," whispered Lucille. "Oh, when will
Colonel Decies come back. I want him to be here when he opens his eyes
again. He would know at a glance whether he were in his right mind and
knew me."

"I am certain he did, dear," replied Auntie Yvette. "I am positive he
smiled at you, and I believe he knew me too."

"I _won't_ believe I have found him too late. It _couldn't_ be true,"
wept the girl, overstrained and unstrung by long vigils, heart-sick