He tarried a little too long. She opened her eyes, and finding a strange face so close to hers, exclaimed at the same moment as she threw out her hands and pushed him away: “The impudence of you, you ill-bred scamp!” “But, madam,” said the President, “it was his anxiety for your return to consciousness that caused the consul to be peering into your face.” “Your explanation is satisfactory, President. But are you not mistaken about me having been unconscious?” “In a certain sense, madam, you were,” replied the Governor. “But, you _remember_, do you not, Mrs. Grange,—Aunty Inez?” asked the child. Mrs. Grange sprang to her feet. “Have I been living a dream all of my past life, or am I now dreaming?” “Neither, dear madam,” replied the great scientist, Guillermo Gonzales; “neither, madam. You are simply confused with the remembrances of two lives.” In an abstracted manner she took the hands of Catalina Martinet in her own, and gazing intently into her face for a moment, said: “It is the same child. The other life is plain to me now. Am I to be punished? I did ill-treat her then; I did. But spare me, spare me!” She pleadingly called out to some invisible person. Turning her face away from the child, she looked straight into the laughing face of Marriet Motuble, who said: “I thought it would come, Sister Grange. In fact, I knew it would come.” “Such torture,” she cried, turning from first one to the other, “such torture; save me, save me!” “We cannot do that, dear madam; we have no such power. You need have no fear. It is the awakening of your soul, and only good can be the final result,” said the Governor. “Your words only harrass me. There are so many here to chide me for my unjust treatment of the child there, in that other life.” Spying a new face close by, she fairly screamed: “What, you here?” Everybody turned to see who it was that caused the half crazy woman—crazy with guilt—to cry out so, when a queenly young woman stepped forward and said: “I certainly am sorry my presence has created such an uproar. Ladies and gentlemen, I now apologize.” “Have you ever met the woman?” asked the President. “Not in this life, your Honor.” “She remembers me, though,” said Mrs. Grange, “and I her.” “If that be true,” said the Governor, “present me, dear madam. I have not the honor of her acquaintance.” As Mrs. Grange sank into a chair she put her hands over her eyes, as if to hide from view of every one, and said: “Your Honor, the lady was Helen Hinckley, in that time long past,” then sank into her former state of unconsciousness. Helen Hinckley, with a pleasing smile, advanced with outstretched hands to the Governor, and in her charming voice, said: “By which name I have the pleasure to present myself to your Honor now.” The Governor took her two beautiful hands into his own, and as he looked into her open countenance, and beautiful eyes, he realized that at last he had met his fate.