"I know you did not intend to say the last time for life; but the word _last_ struck with a chill to my heart, and called up old dreads, which, unbidden, sent a thrill of fear through my spirit. I could not avoid the thought that this _might be_, indeed, our last meeting. Would to heaven the unwelcome thought were banished from my mind, never again to return." "Well, love, just banish it. You are certainly in no personal danger; and there is hardly a possibility, let alone a probability, protected as I shall be, of my encountering serious danger on my way home." "I know all you say; I can see no cause of fear; no reason to apprehend danger; yet I _do_ feel alarmed; but it is a vague, undefined sensation, which I hope reason will soon banish from my mind. I am not now, and never have been, a believer in presentiments, and I do not intend to become a convert to the notion to-day." "I am glad to hear you speak in that manner. There are but few things in the compass of possibility that may not be achieved, if we bring a resolute will to bear upon them. The belief in presentiments, signs of good and bad luck, and the like, is calculated, in no small degree, to 'make slaves of us all,' and to detract very much from the happiness we might otherwise enjoy. I have known persons who were perfect slaves to such things, having their evil omens and good omens, their bad days and good days, their moon signs, their owl signs, their cat and dog signs, and I know not what all other kinds of signs, all of which were regarded with the reverence due only to sacred things. I must confess I have often been disgusted at the tomfoolery of some of these 'signs' people." "Really, I hope you do not intend to be _personal_ in your remarks?" "My usual reply to such inquiries is, 'if the shoe fits, wear it;' but you know, love, I had no intention of alluding to you in what I said; at least, if you did not know it, I tell you so now." "Very well; your amusing strictures on the 'signs' have had the effect to dispel, in a good degree, my forebodings of evil, whatever may have given rise to them. I presume, if the sign is really reliable, I may now conclude that the danger, if any was near me, has passed away." "One would naturally suppose that the more imminent the danger, the heavier would be the pressure on the spirits." "And who knows but some unseen calamity _was_ near us--a serpent, for instance, whose deadly fangs might have proved fatal, or some other unknown or invisible foe, with power to work us evil?" "Without entering the field of speculation, we will just suppose your snakeship has departed, and, as your spirits have recovered their wonted elasticity, let us talk of more pleasing and interesting matters." "With all my heart." And _had_ the serpent, Durant, really withdrawn himself? Had some long buried cord of human sympathy at last been touched in his heart, and the slumbering emotions of a better nature awakened? Let us hope so if we can.