"I thought that you and I were living alone at Chormouth, in our old cottage, and on just such a lovely moonlight night as this we went walking on the cliffs together. The tide was out, and across the water, as far as ever we could see, stretched the silvery pathway that you know I used to think must lead to heaven. I thought so then, and I asked you to come with me and join mother there; for though we were very happy, we were often very lonely, and we longed to have her with us. You would not listen to me at first, but presently you said 'Yes.' So taking your hand, I ran with you across the sands, and without the least fear into the tiny rippling waves of the turning tide. But no sooner had our feet touched the water than a shadow seemed to bar the way. We looked up, and there was father standing with his arms stretched out to us. "'Father,' I cried, 'I am so glad to see you. You are come just in time to go with us to mother.' "I wasn't one bit surprised to see him, you know, although I knew quite well that he had been wrecked. Well, he stood still with his arms spread out and did not move. Then in a minute or two, he cried with the tears running down his cheeks: "'Children, I can't go; I don't know the way. Come back with me and teach me, and then, when I have learnt, we three will go together!' "At that I sprang into his arms, and kissed him, and said I would wait till he too was ready, and I held out my hand to you again, Phil, but you—" Millie's voice dropped to a whisper—"but you were gone. I could not see you anywhere; you were not in the shadow, nor in the moonlight. Then I called out loud for you, and I suppose that woke me; for the next minute I heard you say: "'All right, Millie, I'm awake.' "And then I knew that I had been dreaming." "That was a strange dream," said Phil musingly. "It was striking six, I remember, when I heard you calling me just as you always do, this morning, so that you see was caused by the force of habit. But the first part of your dream was ghostly, Millie. We won't talk about it any more. Let us go home." "It was not ghostly to me; it was a very beautiful dream, and I was only sorry when I woke," said Millie, rising. "Somehow it makes me believe just as mother did, that father is living, and will come back to us some day, as," she added, reverently folding her hands, "I pray God he may." Well might Phil wish that he had his sister's hopeful, trusting spirit. He sighed as he watched her; then with a "Come, Millie," he hooked his arm in hers, and they turned towards home. They had not gone many steps before they were met by a lady and gentleman. The former looked hard at Millie, then stopped, exclaiming: "Why, Millie, is that you?" Millie's joyous "O Miss Crawford" was answer enough. "I suppose Phil brought you to get a little fresh air," she said with a smile. "I am glad of that, it will do you good."