“I am the Phantom of Fame”—­said another—­“I come with music and sweet promises—­I float before the eyes of man, seeming to him an Angel!—­I speak of triumph and power!—­and for me brave hearts have broken, and bright spirits have been doomed to despair!  I am but a Shadow—­but the world believes me Substance—­I am but a breath and a colour, but men take me for a fixed Star!”

“I am the Phantom of Pride!”—­said a third voice—­“For me humanity scales the height of ambition—­for my sake king’s and queens occupy uneasy thrones, and surround themselves with pomp and panoply—­for me men lie and cheat and wrong their neighbours—­for me the homes that should be happy are laid waste—­for me false laws are made and evil conquers good I am but a Shadow—­and the world takes me for the Sun!—­I am but a passing flash of light, and men take me for the perfect Day!”

Other voices joined in and echoed wildly around me—­and I rose up in the boat, loosing my hold from the clasp of the woman who was with me.

“You are phantoms all!” I cried, half unconscious of my own words—­ “I want God’s angels!  Where is Love?”

The voices ceased—­the strange flitting figures that wailed round me faded away into mist, and disappeared—­and a light, deep and golden and wonderful, began to shine through the gloom.  My companion spoke.

“We have been looking at dreams,”—­she said—­“You ask for the only Real!”

I smiled.  A sudden inrush of strength and authority possessed me.

“You bade me look my last upon my dream of Love!” I said—­“But you knew that was impossible, for Love is no dream!”

The golden radiance widened into a perfect splendour, and our boat now glided over a shining sea.  As in a vision I saw the figure that steered and guided it, change from darkness to brightness—­the black fold fell from its face—­Angel eyes looked at me—­Angel lips smiled!—­and then—­I found myself suddenly alone on the shore of a little bay, blue as a sapphire in the reflection of the blue sky above it.  The black stretch of water which had seemed so dreary and impassable had disappeared, and to my astonishment I recognised the very shore near the rock garden which was immediately under my turret room.  I looked everywhere for the woman who had been in the boat with me—­for the boat itself and its guide—­but there was no trace of them.  Where and how far I had wandered I could not imagine--but presently, regaining nerve and courage, I began to fancy that perhaps my strange experience had been preordained and planned as some test of my faith and fortitude.  Had I failed?  Surely not!  For I had not doubted the truth of God or the power of Love!  There was only one thing which puzzled me,—­the memory of those voices behind a wall—­the voices which had spoken of Rafel’s death and treachery.  I could not quite rid myself of the anxiety they had awakened in my mind though I tried hard not to yield to the temptation of fear and suspicion.  I knew and felt that after all it is the voices of the world which work most harm to love—­and that neither poverty nor sorrow can cut the threads of affection between lovers so swiftly as falsehood and calumny.  And yet I allowed myself to be moved by vague uneasiness on this account, and could not entirely regain perfect composure.