ionately, but the beautiful body he'd held in his
arms lay under that sundial by the riverside. Her spirit was of another
world. And he'd not have been a human, hot-blooded man, if the
reproachful wraith of an old love could be more to him than the brave
girl who'd saved his life and won his soul back from despair.

I saw, as if through their eyes, the thing they faced together, those
two, and suddenly I rebelled against that figure of Destiny. I was wild
to save the white bird before its wings had ceased to flutter. I didn't
know at all what to do. But I had to do something. I simply _had_ to!

Miss Reardon rose.

"Would you like to come with me now?" she asked, addressing Robert, not
Joyce or me. She ignored us, but not in a rude way. Indeed, there was a
direct and rather childlike simplicity in her manner, which impressed
one with her genuineness. I was afraid--horribly afraid--and almost
sure, that she _was_ genuine. I respected her against my will, because
she didn't worry to be polite; but at the same time I didn't intend to
be shunted. I determined to be in at the death--or whatever it was!

"Aren't you going to invite us, too?" I asked. "If the--the apparition
is the spirit we think we recognize, she and I were dear friends."

Miss Reardon's round, mild eyes searched my face. Then they turned as if
to consult another face which only they could see. It was creepy to
watch them gaze steadily at something in that big, _empty_ armchair.

"Yes," she agreed. "The lady--Lady----Could it be 'June'?--It sounds
like June--says it's true you were her friend. But she says '_Not the
other._' The other mustn't come."

"I wouldn't wish to come," Joyce protested. She was waxen pale. "I'll go
home," she said to Robert. "Don't bother about me. Don't think about me
at all. Afterward you can--tell me whatever you care to tell."

"No!" Robert and I spoke together, moved by the same thought. "Don't go
home. Wait here for us."

"Very well," the girl consented, more to save argument at such a moment,
I think, than because she wished to do what we asked.

She sank down in one of the chairs we had taken and Robert and I
followed Miss Reardon. She appeared to think that we were sure to know
her name quite well. I didn't know it, for I was a stranger in the world
of Spiritualism. But her air of being modestly proud of the name seemed
to prove that her reputation as a medium was good--that she'd never been
found out in any fraud.