After all, those were sentimental considerations which reached back to the life with which she had done for ever. It was quite another sort of life which was in front of her; she must be equipped for that. Three Or four plain, substantial dresses would be sufficient; the rest--those triumphs of the dressmaker's art--she was not likely to require garments of that sort again, ever. So she packed the few clothes she thought she would require into a trunk, together with her Bible, her writing-case, and a few odds and ends; looking round the room, she decided that all her other things, which she had so treasured, must remain behind. She undressed, feeling as if she was undressing in a room peopled with ghosts, all of them memories of the many-sided Nora of the days which were gone; then, all radiant in her white attire, she knelt in prayer; supposing, as she poured forth all the dear, secret things which were in her heart, that she was a woman; but God, who heard her, knew that she was a child; and, as she prayed, He breathed peace into her soul; so that hardly, at last, was she between the sheets when she fell fast asleep. And in her sleep she dreamed the dream which she had dreamed before; of her father, stealing timidly into her room, filled with a great longing to tell her something, which he would have given much that she should know, yet speechless. And to him the knowledge that he was dumb was agony, and to her; so that she put her arms about him, and whispered in his ear words which were meant to assist him in the efforts he was making to say what he so yearned to tell her. But struggle as he might, speech would not come; until, all at once, in the exceeding bitterness of his grief he made her understand that, because he had been still so long, and so had sinned, God would not let him speak now; He would not forgive him for the opportunities he had wasted. Mingling her anguish with his, she held him closer, crying-- "God will forgive you, father! God will forgive you!" and, with her own crying, she woke herself up, to find herself in the darkness, alone, and the sound of her own voice in her ears. As before, the delusion of her father's presence was so real that, at first, she could not believe it was delusion. She put out her hands to feel for him; when they found nothing, she whispered-- "Father!" When none answered she got out of bed, and crossed the room, and stood at the open door, listening for the sound of his retreating footsteps; she had heard them so plainly when he entered. When she remembered that he was dead, and that it must have been a dream, she began to tremble all over; she did not dare to ask herself if this dream had been sent to her of God; she was afraid.