"Mother! is it you? Oh, mother! have you come at last?" murmured Margaret, sinking her head on Morris' shoulder. It was some moments before Margaret felt a warm tear fall upon her cheek, and heard Morris say: "No, my dear: not yet. Your mother is in a better place than this, where we shall all rest with her at last, Miss Margaret." "What is all this?" said Margaret, raising herself, and looking round her. "What did I mean about my mother? Oh, Morris, my head is all confused, and I think I have been frightened. They were laughing at me, and when somebody came to help me, I thought it must be my mother. Oh, Morris, it is a long while--I wish I was with her." Morris did not desire to hear what Margaret's dream had been. The immediate cause of Margaret's distress she did not know; but she had for some time suspected that which only one person in the world was aware of besides herself. The terrible secret of this household was no secret to her. She was experienced enough in love and its signs to know, without being told where love was absent, and where it rested. She had not doubted, up to the return from the wedding-trip, that all was right; but she had never been quite happy since. She had perceived no sign that either sister was aware of the truth; the continuance of their sisterly friendship was a proof that neither of them was: but she wished to avoid hearing the particulars of Margaret's dream, and all revelations which, in the weakness and confusion of an hour like this, she might be tempted to make. Morris withdrew from Margaret's clasp, moved softly across the room, gently put the red embers together in the grate, and lighted the lamp which stood on the table. "I hope," whispered Margaret, trying to still her shivering, "that nobody heard me but you. How came you to think of coming to me?" "My room being over this, you know, it was easy to hear the voice of a person in an uneasy sleep. I am glad I happened to be awake: so I put on my cloak and came." Morris did not say that Edward had heard the stifled cry also, and that she had met him on the stairs coming to beg that she would see what could be done. Hester having slept through it, Margaret need never know that other ears than Morris' had heard her. Thus had Hope and Morris tacitly agreed. "Now, my dear, when I have warmed this flannel, to put about your feet, you must go to sleep again. I will not leave you till daylight--till the house is near being astir: so you may sleep without being afraid of bad dreams. I will rouse you if I see you disturbed. Now, no more talking, or we shall have the house up; and all this had better be between you and me."