hand on his. "I want her son to know it."

Her eyes were soft and compassionate; her hand still lingered
lightly on his, and she let it rest so.

"Mrs. Craig," he said, "_you_ are the most real person I have known
in many years among the phantoms. I thought your sister-in-law
was. But you are still more real."

"Am I?" she laid her other hand over his, considering him
earnestly. Ailsa looking on, astonished, noticed a singular
radiance on his face--the pale transfiguration from some quick
inward illumination.

Then Celia Craig's voice sounded almost caressingly:

"I think you should have come to see us long ago." A pause. "You
are as welcome in this house as your mother would be if she were
living. I love and honour her memory."

"I have honoured little else in the world," he said. They looked
at one another for a moment; then her quick smile broke out. "I
have an album. There are some Paiges, Ormonds, and Berkleys in
it----"

Ailsa came forward slowly.

"Shall I look for it, Celia?"

"No, Honey-bell." She turned lightly and went into the back