“You have been very kind to me and to my sister,” she said⁠—“kind when we were both friendless. I shall remember you gratefully, as long as I live to remember anyone. Goodbye⁠—and God bless you!”

She spoke those words with a tone and a look which brought the tears into my eyes⁠—she spoke them as if she was bidding me farewell forever.

“Goodbye, my lady,” I said, putting her into the carriage, and trying to cheer her; “goodbye, for the present only; goodbye, with my best and kindest wishes for happier times.”

She shook her head, and shuddered as she settled herself in the carriage. The guard closed the door. “Do you believe in dreams?” she whispered to me at the window. “ My dreams, last night, were dreams I have never had before. The terror of them is hanging over me still.” The whistle sounded before I could answer, and the train moved. Her pale quiet face looked at me for the last time⁠—looked sorrowfully and solemnly from the window. She waved her hand, and I saw her no more.