No, no; Marie-Louise, _cherie, ma bien-aimee_!" he said tenderly.
"See, are my arms not real about you? See, it is I, it is really I!
It is not death, it is love that has brought me! See, Marie-Louise,
lie very still for a little while in my arms, and you will not be any
more afraid."

It seemed as though for a space she were in a faint, so white her face
was, so quiet she lay; and then her hand felt out and touched his
shoulder, and his face, and his hair in a wondering, hesitant,
incredulous way.

Her lips moved.

"You--you are like Jean as he used to be before he went away to the
_grand monde_."

He bent his head, and laid his cheek against her cheek.

"Yes, Marie-Louise," he said softly. "And now I shall always be that
Jean. Try very hard now to understand, little one! See, I am back
again--for always--for always--and I will never go away from you any
more. Don't you see, _petite_, that it is really Jean?"

"Yes," she said, in a low, dead voice, "it is Jean; but how can it be
Jean--here--on this great ship--when Jean, I know, is in France--for I
left Jean in France."

And then Jean laughed--because it would help to drive the sense of
unreality from her mind, and because in his heart was only joyous
laughter.

"It is very simple, that! I came with Monsieur Bliss and mademoiselle.
And it is no more strange for me to be here than for you--than that I
should have seen you a little while ago from the deck up there,
Marie-Louise."

She seemed to rouse herself as though in dawning comprehension, raising
herself a little in his arms.

"But the clothes--those clothes that you are wearing!" she faltered.

"Ah, Marie-Louise!" he cried out happily. "Do you not remember? Was
it not you who told me that day that I was to keep them with me always?
And see, I have kept them--and they have brought me back to you!"

He felt her tremble suddenly, and draw away.

"Let me go, Jean." And, as he released her, she stood for an instant
clinging to the ship's side, her head turned away, before she spoke
again. "You--you put them on to come down here to me?" she said dully,
at last.

"But, yes! But, yes! What else?" he answered eagerly. "To come to
you, Marie-Louise!"

She faced him, pitifully white.

"Oh, Jean, Jean! Why did you do it?"--it was a bitter, hopeless cry.
"What good could this hour bring to you, what could it give you when
you go back there that you have not already got, while for me"--her
v