"Come back! For the love of mercy, where are you ?" He ran stumblingly toward the lake.

The bridge of gold was there, the little owl cried lonesomely; and did he see or did he only dream he saw a mist of white vanishing in the opposite wood?
His breath came between dry lips, and he circled the cabin searching eagerly, but he could find nothing, hear nothing, save the dog at his heels.

He hurried to the stoop and stood gazing at the molten path of moonlight.

One minute he was half frozen, the next a rosy glow enfolded him.

Slowly he lifted a hand and touched his lips.