. The murmur of pleasant
conversation fell constantly upon his ears--surely that other world was
part of an evil dream, a relic of his delirium. Heaven and hell could
never exist so close together. But by-and-bye, when they drove off she
herself brought the truth home to him.

"Do you know," she said, "this afternoon I have had an idea? Some day I
hope so much that it may come true. Do you mind if I tell it you? It
concerns yourself."

"Tell me, of course," he said.

"You have written so wonderfully of that terrible world beneath--that
world whose burden we would all give so much to lighten. You have
written so vividly that every one knows that you yourself have been
there. Presently--not now, of course--but some day I would have you
write of life as we see it about us to-day--of the world beautiful--and
I would have you illustrate it as one who has lived in it, drunk of its
joys, even as one of its happiest children. Think what a wealth of
great experiences must lie between the two extremes! It is what you
would wish for--you, to whom the study of your fellow-creatures is the
chosen pursuit of life."

He smiled at her thoughtfully.

"I do not know," he replied, "but I should think very few in this world
are ever permitted to pass behind both canopies. To me it seems
impossible that I should have ceased so suddenly to be a denizen of the
one, and even more impossible that I should ever have caught a glimpse
of the other."

"You will not always say so," she murmured. "You have everything in
your favour now--youth, strength, experience, and reputation."

"Even then," he answered, "I doubt whether I still possess the capacity
for happiness. I feel at times as though what had gone before had
frozen the blood in my veins."

"Your friends" she said, "must make up to you for the past.
Forgetfulness is sometimes hardly won, but it is never an
impossibility."

"My friends? My dear lady, I do not possess one."

She raised her parasol. Her wonderful eyes sought his, her
delicately-gloved hand rested for a moment lightly upon his palm.

"And what am I?" she asked softly.

He was only human, and his heart beat the faster for that gentle touch
and the gleam in her eyes. She was so beautiful, so unlike any other
woman with whom he had ever spoken.

"Have I any right to call you my friend?" he faltered.

"Have you any right," she answered brightly, "to call me anything
else?"

"I wonder what makes you so kind to me