"Mad!" she said to herself; "and Isaac never told me." With these few words she left the room.
Isaac was hastening after her when his mother turned and stopped his further progress.

It wrung his heart to see the misery and terror in her face as she looked at him.
"Light gray eyes," she said, in low, mournful, awe-struck tones, pointing toward the open door; "a droop in the left eyelid; flaxen hair, with a gold-yellow streak in it; white arms, with a down upon them; little lady's hand, with a reddish look under the finger nails--The Dream-Woman, Isaac, the Dream-Woman!" That faint cleaving doubt which he had never been able to shake off in Rebecca Murdoch's presence was fatally set at rest forever.

He had seen her face, then, before--seven years before, on his birthday, in the bedroom of the lonely inn.
"Be warned! oh, my son, be warned! Isaac, Isaac, let her go, and do you stop with me!" Something darkened the parlor window as those words were said.

A sudden chill ran through him, and he glanced sidelong at the shadow.

Rebecca Murdoch had come back.