"When I stand and turn my face up to the sky--and watch one going higher into heaven--and singing all the time without stopping," she said, "I feel as if the singing were carrying what I want to say with it. Sometimes he goes so high that you can't see him any more-- He's not even a little speck in the highest sky-- Then I think perhaps he has gone in and taken my prayer with him. But he always comes back. And perhaps if I could understand he could tell me what the answer is." She ate her breakfast each day and was sweetly faithful to her promise to Dowie in every detail. Dowie used to think that she was like a child who wanted very much to learn her lesson well and follow every rule. "I want to be good, Dowie," she said once. "I should like to be very good. I am so _grateful_." Doctor Benton driving up the moor road for his daily visits made careful observation of every detail of her case and pondered in secret. The alarming thinness and sharpening of the delicate features was he saw, actually becoming less marked day by day; the transparent hands were less transparent; the movements were no longer languid. "She spends most of the day out of doors when the weather's decent," Dowie said. "She eats what I give her. And she sleeps." Doctor Benton asked many questions and the answers given seemed to provide him with food for reflection. "Has she spoken of having had the dream again?" he inquired at last. "Yes, sir," was Dowie's brief reply. "Did she say it was the same dream?" "She told me her husband had come back. She said nothing more." "Has she told you that more than once?" "No, sir. Only once so far." Doctor Benton looked at the sensible face very hard. He hesitated before he put his next question. "But you think she has seen him since she spoke to you? You feel that she might speak of it again--at almost any time?" "She might, sir, and she might not. It may seem like a sacred thing to her. And it's no business of mine to ask her about things she'd perhaps rather not talk about." "Do you think that she believes that she sees her husband every night?" "I don't know _what_ I think, sir," said Dowie in honourable distress. "Well neither do I for that matter," Benton answered brusquely. "Neither do thousands of other people who want to be honest with themselves. Physically the effect of this abnormal fancy is excellent. If this goes on she will end by being in a perfectly normal condition." "That's what I'm working for, sir," said Dowie. Whereupon Dr. Benton went away and thought still stranger and deeper things as he drove home over the moor road which twisted through the heather. * * * * * The next day's post delivered by Macaur himself brought as it did weekly a package of books and carefully chosen periodicals. Robin had, before this, not been equal even to looking them over and Dowie had arranged them neatly on shelves in the Tower room.