nt towards him timidly, her heart beating
wildly. She no longer thought of Leicester now; this man filled the
whole horizon of her life. When she was within a few feet of him, she
stopped. Her heart became as heavy as lead. Why did he not come to meet
her? Why did he stand there in the shadow, without moving a step towards
her, after he had been away all the day?

"You are come at last," she said.

"Yes. Will you come and sit by me?"

Almost fearfully she did as she was bidden. The sofa on which they sat
was so much in the darkness that she could not see his face plainly;
only the dim outline of his form was visible. He acted in a most
unlover-like fashion. He did not even offer to take her hand. She almost
feared to sit by his side.

"Aren't you--you very late?" she stammered. "Is anything the matter?"
She hardly knew what she was saying, and the silence had become
oppressive.

"Yes," he replied, "something is the matter."

"You--you are not ill, are you?"

"I don't know--oh, no, certainly not--not in the way you think."

"Why did you not come earlier--this morning, as you promised?" she
asked. It was not a bit what she meant to say, but she had lost control
over herself.

"I've been very busy--that is, I've been finding out something."

"What?"

"I've been making inquiries about--Leicester."

"About whom?"

"About Leicester. I've discovered something."

Her heart ceased to beat. What did he mean by speaking to her like this?
What could he have discovered about Leicester? Besides, his voice was
strange. She no longer heard the low, fluid tones of an Oriental, but
the voice of the past.

"What?" she asked.

"I've discovered that Leicester is not dead."

"What!"

"I've discovered that Leicester is not dead. That is why I've been away
all the day. It has put everything that is--in a new light."

She sat as moveless as a statue. His voice sounded far away. It was very
strange too, and yet it was very familiar.

"Not dead?"

"No. There can be no doubt about it. He died, but he has risen again."

A strange feeling possessed her heart. She was not sure whether it was
an overmastering joy, or a terrible fear. Perhaps it was both. But the
news was also a great shock, and the room seemed to swim around her.

"But, but," she stammered presently, "how do you explain--the--the, that
is----"

"How do I explain the coroner's inquest, and all that was associated
with it? I will tell you. It is darker t