I was not dreaming.
When I looked at my uncle the sad expression on his face had given way
to a smile of infinite satisfaction.

"He is pleased--thank God!" said my uncle, in a hoarse whisper, sinking
into a chair.

I made no answer.

"It was my son," he continued, with animation. "Rayel--that was the name
she gave him. Rayel, the wonderful. He will love you as he loves me.
Come," said he, rising, "the night is nearly gone."

Taking a lamp from the table, he beckoned me to follow him. Silently
we proceeded through a narrow hallway and up one flight of stairs to a
spacious bedroom which had seemingly been prepared for my use. A candle
was burning dimly on a large dressing-case, and by its flickering light,
as soon as my uncle had gone, I looked about me and tried to think
with calmness on the experience I had passed through. Bolting the door
securely, I threw open one of the window blinds. To my surprise the
first light of dawn was visible in the sky. My room was in the rear
of the house. Between me and the high wall was a dense tangle of
underbrush, barely visible in the dim light. Hastily undressing, I went
to bed without further delay, and was soon in deep sleep. When I awoke
it was near midday. Dressing as quickly as possible, I proceeded at once
to the library, where my uncle sat waiting for me. He conducted me to
the breakfast room--a well-lighted and cheerful apartment--where he
served me with his own hands.

"You shall stay, sir--you shall stay," said he, laying his hand on my
shoulder as he sat down beside me, with a smiling face. "Rayel loves
you. He hopes you will stay. He thinks God sent you to us."

"I am glad, for I wish to stay," I said.

"Good!" he exclaimed, in a long whisper. "You have brought the world to
him. Already he has seen it in your eyes. But it is good!"

While I ate he asked me questions touching the changes in our family
since he left England.

I told him of my life at home after my father's death; of my hard lot
in Liverpool, and of the midnight interviews with his messenger and
with Mr. Earl. He listened to me with grave and attentive interest, but
stopped me before I had finished, with an impatient gesture.

"Speak out! they meant--they meant to kill you, didn't they?"

I stared at him in amazement, while ideas that were new to me flocked
into the empyrean of thought like black birds of prey. Oh, no; I had
never suspected that! I would never before have permitted such a hide