burden of sin and suffering weighing me down." She paused a moment,
and then continued: "In that dream I wore a dress like this, and that
is the reason I put it on to-night. I was getting some things in Paris
before I left, and I bought it thinking you would like it; I had heard
you say that yellow was your favorite color. When my maid opened
the door of my wardrobe to-night to take out a dress, and I saw this
hanging there, it gave me such a shock that I caught at a chair to
keep from falling. And then I felt irresistibly impelled to put it on.
I felt as if it were a shroud, vivid in color as it is; but it had
an uncanny fascination for me, and I experienced a morbid delight in
feeling both spirit and flesh revolt, and yet compelling them to do
my will. I never knew that it was in me to feel so, but I suppose I am
utterly demoralized by so realistically living over again that awful
experience of my childhood. If it happened again I should either be
carried back to the vault for good and all, or end my days in the
topmost tower of the castle, with a keeper, and the storms and
sea-gulls for sole companions."

She sat up in a moment, and putting her hand on his shoulder, looked
him full in the face for the first time. "It seems to me that I know
you now," she said, "and that I never knew you before. When I first
saw you to-night I shrank from you: why, I hardly know, except that
the personality of that woman had woven itself so strongly into mine
that for the moment I felt I had no right to love you. But I have
never loved you as I do to-night, because that dream, however little
else I may have to thank it for, did for me this at least: it seemed
to give me a glimpse into every nook and corner of your character; I
feel now that my understanding of your strange nature is absolute.
I had seen only one side of it before, and had made but instinctive
guesses at the rest; but as I stood with you in that dream, I had,