“Alice, Alice!” a voice called in her ear. “Alice, where are you? All in the dark by yourself?” Then, as the visitor nearly stumbled over the heap upon the floor, he started back involuntarily. “Great Heavens! What has happened? What is the matter? Alice, can this be you upon the floor? Why, child, what has happened? Did I startle you by coming sooner than you expected?” Mark Cramer, with anxious countenance, bent over the cowering figure of his wife. Her face was still buried in her hands, her frame shaking, her whole attitude one of extreme fear. Mark’s heart sank with a fear of unknown dangers. This was a strange welcome after his long absence. Alice’s letter had, it is true, prepared him to find her ill, perhaps only depressed, for he had noted the dejection of spirits in the written words, but he could account for that; but could this shrinking, cowering creature be his formerly light-hearted and happy wife? Surely he had expected nothing like this. Nothing less than a serious nerve shock could have caused this condition. From what source could the shock have come? Could it be, Alice had brooded in her cabin until she had become insane? These and a hundred other thoughts rushed through his brain in the space of a moment as he bent over the abject form of his wife. “Alice, dear Alice, have you no welcome for me after all these long months?” Mark tried to raise her, but she shrank back from him, limp and helpless, yet trembling as with palsy. “Alice, do you know me? Have you lost your mind? My God, what a home-coming is this! You surely are not afraid of _me_, Mark? Speak to me, Alice.” She looked up at him with dazed eyes and tried to speak, but her lips would not obey her will. “Alice, O Alice!” Mark lifted the trembling figure in his arms and held her tightly. “Alice Cramer, do you not know me? What has happened to put you in this state?” She turned her white face against his shoulder, hiding it. Darker thoughts took possession of the man. Was there a reason why his wife should fear him, her husband? His blood grew hot with anger. Had that villain, Russell, so poisoned her mind that she feared his return, or had some person, just previous to his return, frightened and prostrated her? He glanced into the adjoining room and listened for any noise to denote an intruder. No, Alice was alone. “Alice, speak to me!” he commanded sternly. “Mark, Mark,” she murmured. “Oh! has it gone? Can you save me from it?” And again she shrank fearingly against his arm. “There is nothing here, Alice; only I, Mark. What has disturbed you so? Was any one here before I came? Has any one been trying to frighten you?” Alice raised her head and looked shrinkingly behind her, clinging closer to her husband as she did so. Then she began to sob, and clutch his shoulders tightly. “Yes—oh—I do not know! I saw it behind me here in the room. It was so hideous—so dreadful! I saw it over my shoulder there!”