She looked around the vault, then a look of horror came into her eyes as she saw where she sat.
"I am in a coffin!" she gasped. "Am I dead?"
"No," I said, "it is all a mistake; but all is well. Think, try and remember the past."
I saw that she made a mental effort, and then slowly light came into her eyes.
"I was very ill," she said, "and so weak and weary. I wanted to die because—because—what was it? Oh, I remember now—because I was to wed—Wilfred, and I did not love him, and my wedding robe was made, and the wedding day was fixed, and I gave up hope that he was ever coming home."
My heart began to beat with joy. Life and light came back to my heart. That "he" meant me—Roger.
"And then?" I said, almost unconsciously.
"And then I thought I was going to die, and I was glad, for I felt I could not endure being wedded to another."
She spoke as if dreaming, or as if she unknowingly expressed the thoughts that dimly passed through her mind.
"Well," I said, "you wanted to die; you grew weaker and weaker, until your friends thought you were dead, and you were brought here."