"Ellen, I cannot deceive you, but I have a dread feeling there hangs something sad over all this; in our family, presentiments are not disregarded; you link your fortunes with ours, and must not smile at my follies." "Edith, darling, you alarm me; you know nothing, do you? surely you have nothing to apprehend; tell me, love, hide nothing from your sister." "I know nothing, but Ellen I dreamed last night my departed sister stood by me; in her hand she held a miniature. I looked at it and saw an infant's counterpart,--it was our lost Arthur's picture,--she beckoned with her hand, and when I rose to follow she smiled, then gazing on the miniature she looked so unhappy, and said: 'Lost--he is not there--he is lost!' I woke--I am telling you no fancy--I saw some one glide from the room. I am not easily frightened, Ellen, and I rose--I followed to the door, and there distinctly saw a form like Augusta's glide down the long corridor. I could not sleep again all night, and when I now think on it I feel sure some evil lurks near; why she showed that baby form I know not; God grant it may not affect my own Arthur; if my child died, I should follow, Ellen,--Augusta need not beckon!" "Edith, love, we should trust God before even presentiments; if we fear Him all will work together for our good, and even from evil good will spring forth." "Ah! Ellen, if I had the trust you have; but I cannot overcome my fears; God grant they may all be shadows! But here is Wentworth, he must not see clouded faces, let us try and forget this."