I grew confused.
“Yva,” I said. “Where is Yva who brought me here? Did she go into the house?”
“Yes,” she answered happily. “Yva went into the house. Look again!”
I looked and it was Yva’s face that was pressed against my own, and Yva’s eyes that gazed into mine. Only she was garbed as my wife had been, and on her bosom hung the changeful necklace.
“You may not stay,” she whispered, and lo! it was my wife that spoke, not Yva.
“Tell me what it means?” I implored.
“I cannot,” she answered. “There are mysteries that you may not know as yet. Love Yva if you will and I shall not be jealous, for in loving Yva you love me. You cannot understand? Then know this, that the spirit has many shapes, and yet is the same spirit—sometimes. Now I who am far, yet near, bid you farewell a while.”
Then all passed in a flash and the dream ended.
Such was the only one of those visions which I can recall.
I seemed to wake up as from a long and tumultuous sleep. The first thing I saw was the palm roof of our house upon the rock. I knew it was our house, for just above me was a palm leaf of which I had myself tied the stalk to the framework with a bit of coloured ribbon that I had chanced to find in my pocket. It came originally from the programme card of a dance that I had attended at Honolulu and I had kept it because I thought it might be useful. Finally I used it to secure that loose leaf. I stared at the ribbon which brought back a flood of memories, and as I was thus engaged I heard voices talking, and listened—Bickley’s voice, and the Lady Yva’s.