shone sweetly on the meadows and the river, while from every side came
the music of the nightingale. But I was not thinking of these delightful
sights and sounds, though they were present in my mind, for my eyes
watched the 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