flowers. The Wanderer was there alone.

He uttered a short cry and sprang to meet her, but stepped back in awe
of the great white-robed figure that towered by her side.

"Beatrice!" he cried, as they passed.

"I am not Beatrice," she answered, her downcast eyes not raised to look
at him, moving still forward under the gentle guidance of the giant's
hand.

"Not Beatrice--no--you are not she--you are Unorna! Have I dreamed all
this?"

She had passed him now, and still she would not turn her head. But her
voice came back to him as she walked on.

"You have dreamed what will very soon be true," she said. "Wait here,
and Beatrice will soon be with you."

"I know that I am mad," the Wanderer cried, making one step to follow
her, then stopping short. Unorna was already at the door. The ancient
sleeper laid one hand upon her head.

"You will do it now," he said.

"I will do it--to the end," she answered. "Thank God that I have made
you live to tell me how."

So she went out, alone, to undo what she had done so evilly well.

The old man turned and went towards the Wanderer, who stood still in the
middle of the hall, confused, not knowing whether he had dreamed or was
really mad.

"What man are you?" he asked, as the white-robed figure approached.

"A man, as you are, for I was once young--not as you are, for I am very
old, and yet like you, for I am young again."

"You speak in riddles. What are you doing here, and where have you sent
Unorna?"

"When I was old, in that long time between, she took me in, and I have
slept beneath her roof these many years. She came to me to-day. She told
me all her story and all yours, waking me from my sleep, and asking me
what she should do. And she is gone to do that thing of which I told
her. Wait and you will see. She loves you well."

"And you would help her to get my love, as she had tried to get it
before?" the Wanderer asked with rising anger. "What am I to you, or you
to me, that you would meddle in my life?"

"You to me? Nothing. A man."

"Therefore an enemy--and you would help Unorna--let me go! This home is
cursed. I will not stay in it." The hoary giant took his arm, and the
Wanderer started at the weight and strength of the touch.

"You shall bless this house before you leave it. In this place, here
where you stand, you shall find the happiness you have sought through
all the years."

"In Unorna?" the question was asked scornfully.

"By Unorna."

"I do