After some more desultory conversation, the little party retired to the rest they so much needed. Kate and nurse first carefully arranging the Colonel's room; but long after she had laid her head on the hard and diminutive lodging-house pillow, Kate's busy fancy kept sleep aloof--the fact that she was actually in London, was almost incredible, that the dreaded parting with the Winters, and the Priory--the terrible exchange of all the sweet sanctities of home, for the uncertainties and insecurity of lodgings--that all this so long anticipated, was absolutely accomplished; and that from this time forward, a new world of action--of reality--of sober, stern existence, lay before her. Such thoughts as these were potent enemies to sleep. Then her last visit to the great city, and its gaieties, and studies presented themselves; and Lady Desmond's probable return--followed by a natural chain of associations; and finally, the Priory, with its pretty garden; and the neighbouring woods, in all their glories of autumn--as they looked the day she found Fred Egerton seated with her grandfather, rose before her mind's eye; and all the pleasant incidents of that happy time, unrolled themselves before her--clearly at first, but, at length strangely mingled with memories of Dungar, and older days still. Once or twice she strove to reunite the broken chain of thought; but slowly they all faded, and the hours of a short summer's night sped on their way; and gradually her spirit woke from the first, deep sleep that fell upon it; and wearied by the heaviness that had of late weighed it down, fled joyously to the scenes of its early childhood; and summoned to its side, the friends it loved--until a flood of morning sunshine pouring into her room, woke her; and her eyes fell upon the broad comely countenance of Mrs. O'Toole. "Athen, the blessin' iv Christ on ye, jewel; sure the angels was whisperin' to ye in Heaven--ye wor smilin' so swate in your sleep." "Oh, nurse, why did you awake me? so soon I mean." "Soon," ejaculated Mrs. O'Toole, "sure it's nine o'clock, so it is, an' you that was always up at seven--" "Nine! is it possible? But, nurse, are morning dreams always true?" "Sure, I told ye so a hundred times, an' ye always laughed at me, was it dreamin' ye wor, alanah?" "Yes; of Dungar, and of such strange--but go, dear nurse--I will ring soon for you. Have you seen grandpapa this morning? How did you sleep yourself?" "He's not rung his bell yet; an' I was as snug as any duchess."