God!" she cried, staggering back from the bed. Then, with shriek after shriek, she ran blindly through the hall to the stairway, and there fell fainting on the floor.     

  

  

       CHAPTER II.     

       William Brenton knelt beside the fallen lady, and tried to soothe and comfort her, but it was evident that she was insensible.     

       "It is useless," said a voice by his side.     

       Brenton looked up suddenly, and saw standing beside him a stranger. Wondering for a moment how he got there, and thinking that after all it was a dream, he said—     

       "What is useless? She is not dead."     

       "No," answered the stranger, "but you are."     

  

       "I am what?" cried Brenton.     

       "You are what the material world calls dead, although in reality you have just begun to live."     

       "And who are you?" asked Brenton. "And how did you get in here?"     

       The other smiled.     

       "How did you get in here?" he said, repeating Brenton's words.     

       "I? Why, this is my own house."     

       "Was, you mean."     

       "I mean that it is. I am in my own house. This lady is my wife."     

       "Was," said the other.     

       "I do not understand you," cried Brenton, very much annoyed. "But, in any case, your presence and your remarks are out of place here."     

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