arsons. He smiled at the thought and
shut his eyes. The voice that was like to that of Mrs. Parsons died
away, saying as it went:

"No, I haven't got the names, but I dare say they are downstairs. I'll
go and look."

The door opened and he heard someone enter, a woman this time by her
tread. He did not see, both because his eyes were still almost closed
and for the reason that the electric light was heavily shaded. So he
just lay there, wondering quite vaguely where he was and who the woman
might be. She came near to the bed and looked down at him, for he heard
her dress rustle as she bent. Then he became aware of a very strange
sensation. He felt as though something were flowing from that woman to
him, some strange and concentrated power of thought which was changing
into a kind of agony of joy. The woman above him began to breathe
quickly, in sighs as it were, and he knew that she was stirred; he knew
that she was wondering.

"I cannot see his face, I cannot see his face!" she whispered in a
strained, unnatural tone. Then with some swift movement she lifted the
shade that was over the lamp. He, too, turned his head and opened his
eyes.

Oh, God! there over him leant Isobel, clad in a nurse's robes--yes,
Isobel--unless he were mad.

Next moment he knew that he was not mad, for she said one word, only
one, but it was enough.

"Godfrey!"

"Isobel!" he gasped. "Is it you?"

She made no answer, at least in words. Only she bent down and kissed
him on the lips.

"You mustn't do that," he whispered. "Remember--our promise?"

"I remember," she answered. "Am I likely to forget? It was that you
would never see me nor come into this house while my father lived.
Well, he died a month ago." Then a doubt struck her, and she added
swiftly: "Didn't you want to come here?"

"Want, Isobel! What else have I wanted for ten years? But I didn't
know; my coming here was just an accident."

"Are there such things as accidents?" she queried. "Was it an accident
when twenty years ago I found you sleeping in the schoolroom at the
Abbey and kissed you on the forehead, or when I found you sleeping a
few minutes ago twenty whole years later--?" and she paused.

"And kissed me--_not_ upon the forehead," said Godfrey reflective,
adding, "I never knew about that first kiss. Thank you for it."

"Not upon the forehead," she repeated after him, colouring a little.
"You see I have faith and take a great deal for granted. If I should be