And next I was in a large church full of gaily-dressed people. A newly-wedded pair were moving slowly down the aisle to the music of a triumphant march. Suddenly the bridegroom vanished, and the bride stood alone. Wondering what this might mean I looked into her face and I knew it. The eyes, glittering with a fierce light which held mine, were those of Vivien Leigh.
It seemed to me then that the blood ran cold through my veins as I heard the mocking voice say:
'Are those the eyes of a woman?'
'A woman! A tigress!' I murmured.
The shock passed. I was on the ship again, lying out upon the deck, and a face, beautiful with tenderness, was stooping over me. 'Grace!' I cried, but the shadowy form eluded me. Then I heard a voice—her voice—'Not Grace,' it said, 'Aglaia.'
'No, no,' I cried out piteously.
'Hush!' whispered the dear voice. 'She is lost, poor little creature! But be patient. I am coming down to help her presently.'
Here the voice died away, and while I was straining my ears to catch it I felt myself touched.
It was a real sensation this time, for my little friend Aglaia was at my elbow. She was in a white robe daintily trimmed with lace that went down to her tiny bare feet, and her pretty yellow hair was all ruffled with the wind. 'Look!' she said, pointing to the east. I obeyed her, and oh! what a spectacle it was. For while we had slept the rosy-fingered dawn, descending, had opened the windows of heaven.
Lost in rapture I was gazing in, when my little friend's small, plaintive voice recalled me to the earth.