Again she felt the gentle touch on her hair and startled
cheek, again the reassuring voice:
"My Mary." And then. . .was it real or imagined? "I'll come back for
you." From the bottom of a well. "I've come back for you." Farther,
and fainter, then suddenly sharp and near. "My Mary. Mary....."
"Mary!"
"Mary, wake up. You've put yourself in a frenzy." And her guardian
steadily, though not without emotion, replaced the thrown and
disheveled blankets. "You've got to keep yourself---"
"I. . .I saw him again," she stammered. "He called to me. He said he'd
come back for me." She tried to rise. "I've got to go to him, I've got
to find him!"
"No."
For the first time her mother (the claim was true) spoke forbiddingly,
taking her by the shoulders and forcing her back down. "He's dead and
in the grave, and that's where he's going to stay. And unless you want
to join him there---"
"But I do!" cried the girl. "I do. Why doesn't anyone understand?" And
she turned away and fell to weeping. Her mother was silent.
Perhaps an hour later the girl was asleep again, or appeared to be.
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