The door opened and he heard someone enter, a woman this time by her tread. He did not see, both because his eyes were still almost closed and for the reason that the electric light was heavily shaded. So he just lay there, wondering quite vaguely where he was and who the woman might be. She came near to the bed and looked down at him, for he heard her dress rustle as she bent. Then he became aware of a very strange sensation. He felt as though something were flowing from that woman to him, some strange and concentrated power of thought which was changing into a kind of agony of joy. The woman above him began to breathe quickly, in sighs as it were, and he knew that she was stirred; he knew that she was wondering. “I cannot see his face, I cannot see his face!” she whispered in a strained, unnatural tone. Then with some swift movement she lifted the shade that was over the lamp. He, too, turned his head and opened his eyes. Oh, God! there over him leant Isobel, clad in a nurse’s robes—yes, Isobel—unless he were mad. Next moment he knew that he was not mad, for she said one word, only one, but it was enough. “Godfrey!” “Isobel!” he gasped. “Is it you?” She made no answer, at least in words. Only she bent down and kissed him on the lips. “You mustn’t do that,” he whispered. “Remember—our promise?” “I remember,” she answered. “Am I likely to forget? It was that you would never see me nor come into this house while my father lived. Well, he died a month ago.” Then a doubt struck her, and she added swiftly: “Didn’t you want to come here?” “Want, Isobel! What else have I wanted for ten years? But I didn’t know; my coming here was just an accident.” “Are there such things as accidents?” she queried. “Was it an accident when twenty years ago I found you sleeping in the schoolroom at the Abbey and kissed you on the forehead, or when I found you sleeping a few minutes ago twenty whole years later—?” and she paused. “And kissed me—_not_ upon the forehead,” said Godfrey reflective, adding, “I never knew about that first kiss. Thank you for it.” “Not upon the forehead,” she repeated after him, colouring a little. “You see I have faith and take a great deal for granted. If I should be mistaken——” “Oh! don’t trouble about that,” he broke in, “because you know it couldn’t be. Ten years, or ten thousand, and it would make no difference.” “I wonder,” she mused, “oh! how I wonder. Do you think it possible that we shall be living ten thousand years hence?” “Quite,” he answered with cheerful assurance, “much more possible than that I should be living to-day. What’s ten thousand years? It’s quite a hundred thousand since I saw you.” “Don’t laugh at me,” she exclaimed. “Why not, dear, when there’s nothing in the whole world at which I wouldn’t laugh at just now? although I would rather look at you. Also I wasn’t laughing, I was loving, and when one is loving very much, the truth comes out.”