But while he stood in the door-way, holding his breath (continues the narrative) something glided past him like a shadow. His blood thrilled as it swept by; but the next moment he saw the shape of a woman at his elbow, he heard her step, her low agitated breathing, and his heart beat thick with joy. It was no shadow, no shape such as men are afraid of, though it wear the outward form of what they have most loved on earth. It was a woman–perhaps a beautiful woman–a youthful woman he was quite sure, for the small hand he took was very soft and smooth, and though it fluttered violently, it was cold to the touch of his.