“So changed,” she murmured; “can it be the same? Thomas, is it you come back to me from the dead, or is this but a vision?” and slowly and doubtingly the dream wraith stretched out her arms as though to clasp me.
Then I awoke. I awoke and lo! before me stood a fair woman clothed in white, on whom the moonlight shone as in my dream, and her arms were stretched towards me lovingly.
“It is I, beloved, and no vision,” I cried, springing from my bed and clasping her to my breast to kiss her. But before my lips touched hers I saw my error, for she whom I embraced was not Lily Bozard, my betrothed, but Otomie, princess of the Otomie, who was called my wife. Then I knew that this was the saddest and the most bitter of dreams that had been sent to mock me, for all the truth rushed into my mind. Losing my hold of Otomie, I fell back upon the bed and groaned aloud, and as I fell I saw the flush of shame upon her brow and breast. For this woman loved me, and thus my act and words were an insult to her, who could guess well what prompted them. Still she spoke gently.
“Pardon me, Teule, I came but to watch and not to waken you. I came also that I may see you alone before the daybreak, hoping that I might be of service, or at the least, of comfort to you, for the end draws near. Say then, in your sleep did you mistake me for some other woman dearer and fairer than I am, that you would have embraced me?”
“I dreamed that you were my betrothed whom I love, and who is far away across the sea,” I answered heavily. “But enough of love and such matters. What have I to do with them who go down into darkness?”
“In truth I cannot tell, Teule, still I have heard wise men say that if love is to be found anywhere, it is in this same darkness of death, that is light indeed. Grieve not, for if there is truth in the faith of which you have told me or in our own, either on this earth or beyond it, with the eyes of the spirit you will see your dear before another sun is set, and I pray that you may find her faithful to you. Tell me now, how much does she love you? Would _she_ have lain by your side on the bed of sacrifice as, had things gone otherwise between us, Teule, it was my hope to do?”
“No,” I answered, “it is not the custom of our women to kill themselves because their husbands chance to die.”