“To the living—­yes.  I have dreamed an evil dream—­a dream of death.  She is not—­no, I see it now.  She is not dead.  She is only very far from me, very, very far.  And yet it was this morning—­but I was mistaken, deceived by some faint likeness.  Ah, God!  I thought I knew her face!  What is it that you want with me?”

He asked the question as though again suddenly aware of Unorna’s presence.  She had lifted her veil and her eyes drew his soul into their mysterious depths.

“She calls you.  Come.”

“She?  She is not here.  What can you know of her?  Why do you look at me so?”

He felt an unaccountable uneasiness under her gaze, like a warning of danger not far off.  The memory of his meeting with her on that same morning was not clear at that moment, but he had not forgotten the odd disturbance of his faculties which had distressed him at the time.  He was inclined to resist any return of the doubtful state and to oppose Unorna’s influence.  He felt the fascination of her glance, and he straightened himself rather proudly and coldly as though to withdraw himself from it.  It was certain that Unorna, at the surprise of meeting her, had momentarily dispelled the gloomy presentiment which had given him such terrible pain.  And yet, even his disturbed and anxious consciousness found it more than strange that she should thus press him to go with her, and so boldly promise to bring him to the object of his search.  He resisted her, and found that resistance was not easy.

“And yet,” said she, dropping her eyes and seeming to abandon the attempt, “you said that if you failed to-day you would come back to me.  Have you succeeded, that you need no help?”

“I have not succeeded.”

“And if I had not come to you—­if I had not met you here, you would have failed for the last time.  You would have carried with you the conviction of her death to the moment of your own.”

“It was a horrible delusion, but since it was a delusion it would have passed away in time.”

“With your life, perhaps.  Who would have waked you, if I had not?”

“I was not sleeping.  Why do you reason?  What would you prove?”

“Much, if I knew how.  Will you walk with me?  It is very cold.”

They had been standing where they had met.  As she spoke, Unorna looked up with an expression wholly unlike the one he had seen a few moments earlier.  Her strong will was suddenly veiled by the most gentle and womanly manner, and a little shiver, real or feigned, passed over her as she drew the folds of her fur more closely round her.  The man before her could resist the aggressive manifestation of her power, but he was far too courteous to refuse her request.

“Which way?” he asked quietly.

“To the river,” she answered.

He turned and took his place by her side.  For some moments they walked on in silence.  It was already almost twilight.