"He alway comes for me here." We followed the old servant in silence through the thick boughs of cedar until we came to the door of a low-roofed wooden building that stood by itself in the thicket.

The mute opened the door, ushering us into a small room containing a bed and some simple furniture.

A comfortable wood fire was burning in a large open stove, and we both sat down in front of it, shivering from exposure to the chilly air of the night.

My uncle handed a key to the mute, who unlocked a cupboard, taking from it a decanter of whiskey, which he set before us with glasses.
"It will warm you," said my uncle, pouring out the spirits: "I have seen my wife.

She always comes to me there--when the light goes out.