There was an intenseness which was almost a note of anguish in Mrs.
MacNairn's answer, even though her voice was very low. I involuntarily
turned my head to look at her, though of course it was too dark to see
her face. I felt somehow as if her hands were wrung together in her lap.

"Oh!" she said, "if one only had some shadow of a proof that the mystery
is only that WE cannot see, that WE cannot hear, though they are really
quite near us, with us--the ones who seem to have gone away and whom we
feel we cannot live without. If once we could be sure! There would be no
Fear--there would be none!"

"Dearest"--he often called her "Dearest," and his voice had a wonderful
sound in the darkness; it was caress and strength, and it seemed to
speak to her of things they knew which I did not--"we have vowed to each
other that we WILL believe there is no reason for The Fear. It was a vow
between us."

"Yes! Yes!" she cried, breathlessly, "but sometimes,
Hector--sometimes--"

"Miss Muircarrie does not feel it--"

"Please say 'Ysobel'!" I broke in. "Please do."

He went on as quietly as if he had not even paused:

"Ysobel told me the first night we met that it seemed as if she could
not believe in it."

"It never seems real to me at all," I said. "Perhaps that is because I