At length, weary mind and body succumbed to sleep. Then a very strange thing happened. How long he had slept, he knew not; at what time he awoke, or whether he really did awake, or only dreamt, he never could tell; but it seemed to him that he was gently aroused from a deep and dreamless sleep, by the touch of a soft hand on his face, and the tone of a soft voice in his ear. “Who is there?” he murmured, only half conscious. The sweet, low-toned, pathetic voice answered: “It is I, your mother. David Gryphyn, arise, go hence, get to your home. My mother has somewhat to say to you.” The soft voice, breathing flute-like over him, held his soul in a spell of silence and repose until it ceased. Then, wondering, he started up as from a dream. The room was perfectly dark, but he groped his way to the mantelpiece, where he had left the tallow candle and the box of matches, and he struck a light. And still in great agitation, he went to both the chamber doors—the one leading into the hall, and the one leading into the rear room—and examined them. They were both securely locked and bolted as he had left them. Then he went to the front windows, hoisted them, and threw open the heavy oaken shutters. A flood of light burst into the room. He found, to his surprise, that it was broad day and the sun was rising. CHAPTER XXV “WAS IT A DREAM?” Spirits have oftentimes descended Upon our slumbers, and the blessed ones Have in the calm and quiet of the soul Conversed with us. SHIRLEY. Sunshine flowed into the room, filling it with dazzling light. Yet David Lindsay, after having opened the shutters and let down the windowsashes, stood in the middle of the floor, gazing down like one still half entranced, with the impression of that soft touch still on his brow, and the melody of that tender voice still in his ear. “Was it a dream?” he murmured to himself. “Could it have been a dream? No dream I ever had was ever so like reality. Or could some dreaming sleep-walker have entered my chamber and saluted me? Impossible! Yet, let me examine the doors once more.” He roused himself, and went again to investigate the fastenings on the only two outlets from the room—the first leading into the hall, and the second into the rear room. He found them both securely locked and bolted, and, moreover, the locks and bolts were both so strong and so rusty that they required some considerable exertion to move them. No one could have entered through the doors, that was certain. He looked into both closets that flanked the fireplace, but the bare plastered walls and oaken shelves afforded no opportunity of concealment or of passage.