Her languid, sickly mother, who I do believe is taking the child out to India because she lacks energy and resolution to leave her behind, is only too glad of what she calls, no doubt, the child's infatuation, so that Aglaia is my constant companion. She is never in the way, dear little soul! flashing in and out of my cabin, carrying me off to the other end of the ship, where there is much more amusement for her than on the quarter-deck, sitting by gravely while Chunder Singh and I have what she calls our lessons, and falling asleep with her two dear little hands in one of mine, and her yellow head nestling up against my shoulder; she is always the same gentle, delightful little being. 'I love you,' she whispered to-night, just before her eyelids closed. I had been called in 'to help her,' to use her own expression, 'to go to sleep.' 'Don't go away ever!' I wish I could keep you, my little darling! --It has been very hot lately, and some of us have slept on deck. I did so last night for the first time. Before I went to bed Chunder Singh had been talking to me on the ancient philosophies and religions of the East. The last subject we discussed was the old doctrine of metempsychosis, in which he is a profound believer. As I fell asleep under the stars I seemed to be listening to an argument respecting it. 'Why should it not be?' said a voice. 'There is no evidence,' said another. 'Is there evidence for anything spiritual?' said the first. 'For this there would be. Show me one with memory of a past!' persisted the second. A mocking laugh floated through the air. Then the voice I had first heard spoke again. 'Come with me, sceptic,' it said, 'and I will show you.' In the next moment I found myself in Aglaia's cabin. There lay my darling wide awake in her berth, her yellow hair tossed back upon her pillow, and her large grey eyes looking up into mine sorrowfully. 'Are those the eyes of a child?' said the first voice. I turned and fled. And next I was in a large church full of gaily-dressed people. A newly-wedded pair were moving slowly down the aisle to the music of a triumphant march. Suddenly the bridegroom vanished, and the bride stood alone. Wondering what this might mean I looked into her face and I knew it. The eyes, glittering with a fierce light which held mine, were those of Vivien Leigh. It seemed to me then that the blood ran cold through my veins as I heard the mocking voice say: 'Are those the eyes of a woman?' 'A woman! A tigress!' I murmured. The shock passed. I was on the ship again, lying out upon the deck, and a face, beautiful with tenderness, was stooping over me. 'Grace!' I cried, but the shadowy form eluded me. Then I heard a voice--_her_ voice--'Not Grace,' it said, 'Aglaia.' 'No, no,' I cried out piteously. 'Hush!' whispered the dear voice. 'She is lost, poor little creature! But be patient. I am coming down to help her presently.'