As these words were in my mind, I lifted my eyes and looked, and saw that I was not alone in the dark defile. A figure was coming toward me, slight of build and delicate; yet it had a firm tread, and moved with well-nigh the balance of a spirit over the rough and giddy way. As I watched it, I saw that it was a woman. Uncertain for the moment what to do, I remembered the command.
"Await what shall occur, and do as thy heart prompteth." And therefore—for my heart prompted me, as a man's must, to be of service to the woman—I hastened, and advanced, and midway of the place I met her.
It was now perfectly dark. I could not see her face.
When I would have spoken with her, and given her good cheer, I could not find my voice. If she said aught to me, I could not hear her. But I gathered her hands, and held her, and led her on, and shielded her, and gave her such comfort as a man by strength and silence may give a woman when she has need of him; and as I supported her and aided her, I thought of my dear wife, and prayed God that there might be found some soul of fire and snow—since to me it was denied—to do as much as this for her in some hour of her unknown need.
But when I had led the woman out into the lighter space, and turned to look upon her, lo, it was none other. It was she herself. It was my wife. It was no man's beloved but my own....
So, then, crying,
"Helen!"
And "Forgive me, Helen!" till the dark place rang with her dear name, I bowed myself and sunk before her, and could not put forth my hand to touch her, for I thought of how we parted, and it seemed my heart would break.
But she said,
"Why, my dear Love! Oh, my poor Love! Did you think I would remember that?"