han I thought. Will you light
the lamp?"

Like one in a dream she did as she was bidden. Her hand trembled so that
she could scarcely hold the match to the wick of the lamp; but she
succeeded at length, and the mellow light filled the room.

"There," she said, and she tried to laugh, "I have managed to do it. But
tell me you are jesting with me."

"No, I am not jesting. Look at me."

She turned to him as he spoke, but she was powerless to speak a word.

"Did I not speak the truth? Has not Leicester come to life again?"

She looked at him like one spell-bound. There, standing before her, was
Leicester. The huge black beard and moustache were shaven off; he no
longer wore the fez which had helped to give him an Eastern appearance.
His face was paler. He was stouter than the Leicester of old, and there
was still a suggestion of strangeness about him; but the black beard and
moustache, the fez, and the Eastern appearance were gone. She could not
doubt her eyes.

[Illustration: She gazed at him dumbfounded.]

She thought that for the first time in her life she was going to faint.
Her blood ran through her veins like streams of ice; her head swam.
Presently she mastered herself, however.

"I swore that I would come back again, and I have come; but do not fear,
Olive."

Still she stood looking at him with wide-open eyes. She could realise
nothing yet. Where was Ricordo, the man she had promised to marry? And
why was Leicester there? How had she been deceived? What was the meaning
of it all?

"Before you drive me away again, I have something to tell you," he went
on, "something which you must hear. It is a strange story, but you must
hear it."

"But tell me," she said; "I cannot understand. You are----"

"I am Radford Leicester. There is no Signor Ricordo, there never was any
Signor Ricordo--except in name."

He spoke quite calmly, yet his voice trembled somewhat. Again she
looked, and the truth became clearer to her; nevertheless she could not
quite understand what had happened.

"Will you not sit down?" he said. "Do not fear; I quite understand your
feelings. I will not sit near you. But before I go away I want to tell
you something. I want to remove all haunting fear from your mind.
Naturally you loathe my presence--as you said long ago; naturally you
feel defiled at the thought of my being near you. I quite realise that;
you told me so, on our wedding-day, at The Beeches. Still, you will be
glad to know