There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. “Turned out to be an impostor, too. Will you unlock that door?” “Never!” he said. Fruit trees had been brought all the way from India so their product could be laden on the wedding table, fruits with exotic shapes and haunting flavors ended the meal, cleansing the palate. Whence had she come: whither was she bound? A temporary congestion in the street held up the caravan for a spell; and Ah Cum looked backward to note if any of the party had become separated. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future.
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