There were flowers upon the table, and beside them a litter of small objects, one of which he now took up.
"A white glove," he said, "perfumed and silver-fringed, and of a size to fit Titania." I spread its mate out upon my palm.

"A woman's hand.

Too white, too soft, and too small." He touched lightly, one by one, the slender fingers of the glove he held.

"A woman's hand,--strength in weakness, veiled power, the star in the mist, guiding, beckoning, drawing upward!" I laughed and threw the glove from me.

"The star, a will-of-the-wisp; the goal, a slough," I said.
As he sat opposite me a change came over his face, a change so great that I knew before I turned that she was in the room.
The bundle which I had carried for her from Jamestown was neither small nor light.