u feel," he said encouragingly. "It will
help me to put you right."

"But behind all that," she continued hesitatingly, "I seem to remember
many strange things--things which must have happened a long, long time
ago. They are not things I have been told about, or read of! I can
remember them. They must have happened to me. Powers, it makes me
afraid."

He looked at her with ill-concealed excitement.

"It is the sea," she murmured, "which seems always to be reminding me of
things."

She came a little closer to him. His heart beat fiercely. Her eyes
sought his--the appeal of the weak to the strong. He crushed down his
joy--yet it shone in his face, trembled in his tone.

"Shall I ever be like other girls?"

He took her hands in his. She yielded them readily, but they were cold
as ice.

"I am perfectly sure of it," he declared. "You must trust in me and be
patient."

She held his hands tightly as though wrung with a sudden emotion--an
emotion which he realized was one of fear alone.

"Powers," she begged, "will you lock my door at night? Lock all the
doors in the house."

"You have been walking in your sleep!" he said. "Tell me about it. You
must tell me everything, Eleanor, if I am to succeed."

"Not in my sleep," she answered, in a low tone, "but at night, when
everything is quiet, the sea calls and calls, and I cannot rest. I woke
suddenly this morning at three o'clock, and I went out. Powers, as I
walked and listened, the wind and the sea came to me like old friends. I
remembered many strange things. I remembered people whose graves the sea
has stolen from the land ages ago. I was back in those days myself,
Powers. I sang their songs, my heart beat with their joys."

Powers was silent. It had come, then, after all--the great awakening. He
looked at her with a curiosity almost reverent. His voice trembled.

"Tell me, of those days," he begged.

She shook her head impatiently.

"They came back to me then," she said, "in the twilight, when the whole
world slept, and only the sea kept calling to me. Now they are blotted
out. I am afraid to think of them. Powers, help me to forget."

For a moment his love was in the balance against that unconquerable
thirst for knowledge which had seemed to him once the whole aim of life.
He must look, if only for a second, into that land beyond.

"Eleanor," he said thickly, "tell me what you remembered of those days.
Sing me that song. You need not be afraid. It is no