"That was a beautiful dream, mother," Jerome said, soothingly. "Now try to eat your supper." "It's been so real all day. I feel as if--your father had come an' gone again," Ann sobbed. "Try and eat some of this milk-toast, mother; it's real nice," urged Elmira. But Ann could eat no supper. She seemed completely unstrung, for some mysterious reason. They persuaded her to go to bed early; but she was not asleep when they went up-stairs, about ten o'clock, for she called out sharply to know if it was still snowing. "No, mother," Jerome answered, "I have just looked out, and there are some stars overhead. I guess the storm is over." "Oh, Jerome, you don't suppose mother is going to be sick, do you?" Elmira whispered, when they were on the stairs. "No, I guess she's only nervous about her dream. The storm may have something to do with it, too." "Oh, Jerome, I feel exactly as if something was going to happen!" "Nonsense," said Jerome, laughing. "You are nervous yourself. I'll give you and mother some valerian, both of you." "Jerome, I am _sure_ something is going to happen." "It would be strange if something didn't. Something is happening all over the earth with every breath we draw." "Jerome, I mean to _us!_" Jerome gave his sister a little push into her room. "Go to bed, and to sleep," said he, "and leave your door open if you're scared, and I'll leave mine." Jerome himself could not get to sleep soon; once or twice Elmira spoke to him, and he called back reassuringly, but his own nerves were at a severe tension. "What has got into us all?" he thought, impatiently. It was midnight before he lost himself, and he had slept hardly an hour when he wakened with a great start. A wild clamor, which made his blood run cold, came from below. He leaped out of bed and pulled on his trousers, hearing all the while, as in a dream, his mother's voice shrilling higher and higher. "Oh, Abel, Abel, Abel! Oh, Abel!" Elmira, with a shawl over her night-gown, bearing a flaring candle, rushed across the landing from her room. "Oh," she gasped, "what is it? what is it?" "I guess mother has been dreaming again," Jerome replied, hoarsely, but the thought was in his mind that his mother had gone mad. "There's--cold air--coming--in," Elmira said, in her straining voice. "The front door is--wide open." At that Jerome pushed her aside and rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen. There stood his mother over an old man, seated in her rocking-chair. There she stood, pressing his white head against her breast, calling over and over again in a tone through whose present jubilation sounded the wail of past woe, "Oh, Abel, Abel, Abel!"