on the mountain; and last night she came, and we have sat and looked
into each other's eyes. You will say, of course, that I am mad--that
I have not recovered from my fever--that I have been working too
hard--that I have heard a foolish tale, and that it has filled my
overstrung brain with foolish fancies: I have told myself all that.
But the thing came, nevertheless--a creature of flesh and blood? a
creature of air? a creature of my own imagination?--what matter? it
was real to me.

"It came last night, as I sat working, alone. Each night I have
waited for it, listened for it--longed for it, I know now. I heard
the passing of its feet upon the bridge, the tapping of its hand upon
the door, three times--tap, tap, tap. I felt my loins grow cold, and
a pricking pain about my head; and I gripped my chair with both
hands, and waited, and again there came the tapping--tap, tap, tap.
I rose and slipped the bolt of the door leading to the other room,
and again I waited, and again there came the tapping--tap, tap, tap.
Then I opened the heavy outer door, and the wind rushed past me,
scattering my papers, and the woman entered in, and I closed the door
behind her. She threw her hood back from her head, and unwound a
kerchief from about her neck, and laid it on the table. Then she
crossed and sat before the fire, and I noticed her bare feet were
damp with the night dew.

"I stood over against her and gazed at her, and she smiled at me--a
strange, wicked smile, but I could have laid my soul at her feet.
She never spoke or moved, and neither did I feel the need of spoken
words, for I understood the meaning of those upon the Mount when they
said, 'Let us make here tabernacles: it is good for us to be here.'