“Why by mine?  Why not by Holly’s?  Yet, if so, then doubtless I shall suffer the punishment of my crime at the hands of his mourning widow,” he replied exasperated.

“You are pleased to mock me, Leo Vincey, well knowing what a husband this man is to me.”

Now I felt that the crisis had come, and so did Leo, for he looked her in the face and said—­“Speak on, lady, say all you wish; perhaps it will be better for us both.”

“I obey you, lord.  Of the beginning of this fate I know nothing, but I read from the first page that is open to me.  It has to do with this present life of mine.  Learn, Leo Vincey, that from my childhood onwards you have haunted me.  Oh! when first I saw you yonder by the river, your face was not strange to me, for I knew it—­I knew it well in dreams.  When I was a little maid and slept one day amidst the flowers by the river’s brim, it came first to me—­ask my uncle here if this be not so, though it is true that your face was younger then.  Afterwards again and again I saw it in my sleep and learned to know that you were mine, for the magic of my heart taught me this.

“Then passed the long years while I felt that you were drawing near to me, slowly, very slowly, but ever drawing nearer, wending onward and outward through the peoples of the world; across the hills, across the plains, across the sands, across the snows, on to my side.  At length came the end, for one night not three moons ago, whilst this wise man, my uncle, and I sat together here studying the lore that he has taught me and striving to wring its secrets from the past, a vision came to me.

“Look you, I was lost in a charmed sleep which looses the spirit from the body and gives it strength to stray afar and to see those things that have been and that are yet to be.  Then I saw you and your companion clinging to a point of broken ice, over the river of the gulf.  I do not lie; it is written here upon the scroll.  Yes, it was you, the man of my dreams, and no other, and we knew the place and hurried thither and waited by the water, thinking that perhaps beneath it you lay dead.

“Then, while we waited, lo! two tiny figures appeared far above upon the icy tongue that no man may climb, and oh! you know the rest.  Spellbound we stood and saw you slip and hang, saw you sever the thin cord and rush downwards, yes, and saw that brave man, Holly, leap headlong after you.

“But mine was the hand that drew you from the torrent, where otherwise you must have drowned, you the love of the long past and of to-day, aye, and of all time.  Yes, you and no other, Leo Vincey.  It was this spirit that foresaw your danger and this hand which delivered you from death, and—­and would you refuse them now—­when I, the Khania of Kaloon, proffer them to you?”

So she spoke, and leaned upon the table, looking up into his face with lips that trembled and with appealing eyes.

“Lady,” said Leo, “you saved me, and again I thank you, though perhaps it would have been better if you had let me drown.  But, forgive me the question, if all this tale be true, why did you marry another man?”