“Perhaps; at least forgive me, I did so want to look,” she answered humbly as, arm-in-arm, for she needed support, they passed from the altar to the door. A grotesque imagination entered the numbed mind of Morris. Their slow and miserable march turned itself to a vision of a bridal procession from the altar. Wet, dishevelled, half-frozen, they two were the bride-groom and the bride, and the bride was a seer of visions, and the bridegroom was a dreamer of dreams. Yes, and they came up together out of the bitter sea and the darkness, and they journeyed together to a vault of the dead—— Thank Heaven! they were out of the place, and above was the sun shining, and, to the right and left, the grey ocean and the purple plough-lands, cold-looking, suggesting dangers and labour, but wholesome all of them, and good to the eye of man. Only why did this woman see visions, and why did he dream dreams? And what was the meaning of their strange meeting upon the sea? And what—— “Where are we going?” asked Stella after a while and very faintly. “Home; to the Abbey, I mean, where your father lies. Now it is not much more than a mile away.” She sighed; her strength was failing her. “You had better try to walk, it will warm you,” he urged, and she struggled on. It was a miserable journey, but they reached the house at length, passing first through a street of the village in which no one seemed to be awake. A wretched-looking couple, they stumbled up the steps into the porch, where Morris rang the bell, for the door was locked. The time seemed an age, but at last steps were heard, the door was unbarred, and there appeared a vision of the lad Thomas, yawning, and clad in a nightshirt and a pair of trousers, with braces attached which dangled to the floor. “Oh, Lord!” he said when he saw them, and his jaw dropped. “Get out of the way, you young idiot,” said Morris, “and call the cook.” It was half-past seven in the evening, that is, dinner time, and Morris stood in the study waiting for Stella, who had announced through the housemaid that she was coming down. After telling the servants to send for the doctor and attend to his companion, who had insisted upon being led straight to her father’s room, Morris’s first act that morning on reaching home was to take a bath as hot as he could bear. Then he drank several cups of coffee with brandy in it, and as the office would soon be open, wrote a telegram to Mary, which ran thus: “If you hear that I have been drowned, don’t believe it. Have arrived safe home after a night at sea.” This done, for he guessed that all sorts of rumours would be abroad, he inquired after Mr. Fregelius and Stella. Having learned that they were both going on well and sent off his telegram, Morris went to bed and slept for ten hours.