Searchingly he studied every feature of her countenance, and as he did so his doubts concerning her spirit-origin became more and more confirmed.  She was a living, breathing woman—­an actual creature of flesh and blood,—­yet how account for her appearance on the field of Ardath?  This puzzled him ... till all at once a logical explanation of the whole mystery dawned upon his mind.  Heliobas had sent her hither on purpose to meet him!  Of course! how dense he had been not to see through so transparent a scheme before!  The clever Chaldean had resolved that he, Theos Alwyn, should somehow be brought to accept his trance as a real experience, so that henceforth his faith in “things unseen and eternal” might be assured.  Many psychological theorists would uphold such a deceit as not only permissible, but even praise-worthy, if practiced for the furtherance of a good cause.  Even the venerable hermit Elzear might have shared in the conspiracy, and this “Edris,” as she called herself, was no doubt perfectly trained in the part she had to play!  A plot for his conversion! ... well! ... he would enter into it himself, he resolved! ... why not?  The girl was exquisitely fair,—­a veritable Psyche of soft charms!—­and a little lovemaking by moonlight would do no harm, . . ... here he suddenly became aware that while these thoughts were passing through his brain he had unconsciously allowed her hands to slip from his hold, and she now stood apart at some little distance, her eyes fixed full upon him with an expression of most plaintive piteousness.  He made a hasty step or two toward her,—­ and as he did so, his pulses began to throb with an extraordinary sensation of pleasure,—­pleasure so keen as to be almost pain.

“Edris!".. he whispered,—­“Edris...” and stopped irresolutely.

She looked up at him with the appealing wistfulness of a lost and suffering child, and a slight shudder ran through all her delicate frame.

“I am cold, Theos!” she murmured half beseechingly, stretching out her hands to him once more,—­hands as fine and fair as lily-leaves,—­little white hands which he gazed at wonderingly, yet did not take..  “Cold and very weary!  The way has been long, and the earth is dark!”

“Dark?” repeated Alwyn mechanically, still absorbed in the dubious contemplation of her lovely yielding form, her sweet upturned face and gold-glistening hair—­“Dark? ... here? ... beneath the brightness of the moon?  Nay,—­I have seen many a full day look less radiant than this night of stars!”

Her eyes dwelt upon him with a certain pathetic bewilderment,—­she let her extended arms drop wearily at her sides, and a shadow of pained recollection crossed the fairness of her features.

“Ah, I forgot! ...” and she sighed deeply—­“This is that strange, sad world where Darkness is called Light.”

At these words uttered with so much sorrowful meaning, a quick thrill stirred Alwyn’s blood, an inexplicable sharp thrill, that was like the touch of scorching flame.  He gazed at her perplexedly ... his pride resented what he imagined to be the deception practiced upon him, but at the same time he was not insensible to the weird romance of the situation.