And suddenly the chill passed away with a fierce cataclysm of the blood, as though each of its cells were heated by volcanic fire;—for the strange words of the Hebrew canticle came to me like a far echo,—
LOVE IS STRONG AS DEATH!
I burst the fetters with which horror had chained my voice;—I spake to her; I wept,—I wept tears of blood!
And the old voice came to me, argentine and low and mockingly sweet as the voices of birds that call to each other through the fervid West Indian night,—
"I knew thou wouldst come back to me,—howsoever long thou mightst wander under other skies and over other seas.
"Didst thou dream that I was dead? Nay, I die not so quickly! I have lived through all these years. I shall live on; and thou must return hither again to visit me like a thief in the night.
"Knowest thou how I have lived? I have lived in the bitter tears thou hast wept through all these long years;—the agony of the remorse that seized thee in silent nights and lone-
