Several times did Mrs.Markland raise herself and lean upon her elbow, in a listening attitude, as words, distinctly spoken, fell from the lips of her daughter.

At last the quickly uttered sentence, "Mother! mother! come!" caused her to spring from the bed and hurry to her child.
"What is it, Fanny?
What has frightened you ?" she said, in a gentle, encouraging voice.

But Fanny only muttered something incoherent, in her sleep, and turned her face to the wall.
For several minutes did Mrs.Markland sit upon the bedside, listening, with an oppressed feeling, to the now calm respiration of her child.

The dreams which had disturbed her sleep, seemed to have given place to other images.

The mother was about returning to her own pillow, when Fanny said, in a voice of sad entreaty-- "Oh! Mr.Lyon! Don't! don't!" There was a moment or two of breathless stillness, and then, with a sharp cry of fear, the sleeper started up, exclaiming-- "Mother! father! Oh, come to me! Come!" "Fanny, my child!" was the mother's instant response, and the yet half-dreaming girl fell forward into her arms, which were closed tightly around her.