She said, 'My little angel, why are you here in a strange house?
I have come to take you back to your own cot, by my bedside.' I wasn't surprised or frightened; I put my arms round her neck; and we floated away together through the cool starry night; and we were at home again.

I saw my cot, with its pretty white curtains and pink ribbons.

I heard my mother tell me an English fairy story, out of a book which my father had given to her--and her kind voice grew fainter and fainter, while I grew more and more sleepy--and it ended softly, just as it used to end in the happy old days.

And I woke, crying.

Do you ever dream of your mother now ?" "I?
God forbid!" "Oh, Frances, what a dreadful thing to say!" "Is it?
It was the thought in me, when you spoke.