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There, love, nothing shall harm you."
"Oh, mother! dear mother! is it you?" half sobbed the not yet
fully-awakened girl.
"Yes, love. You are safe with your mother. But what have you been
dreaming about?"
"Dreaming!" Fanny raised herself from her mother's bosom, and looked
at her with a bewildered air.
"Yes, dear--dreaming. This is your own room, and you are on your own
bed. You have only been frightened by a fearful dream."
"Only a dream! How thankful I am! Oh! it was terrible!"
"What was it about, daughter?" asked Mrs. Markland.
Fanny, whose mind was getting clearer and calmer, did not at once
reply.
"You mentioned the name of Mr. Lyon," said the mother.
"Did I?" Fanny's voice expressed surprise.
"Yes. Was it of him that you were dreaming?"
"I saw him in my dream," was answered.
"Why were you afraid of him?"
"It was a very strange dream, mother--very strange," said Fanny,
evidently not speaking from a free choice.
"I thought I was in our garden among the flowers. And as I stood
there, Mr.


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