Generally my dreams are too clear and vivid." "I wonder how long you will dream of her, Lionel?
For a year, do you think ?" "I hope not," heartily responded Lionel.

"Lucy, I wish I could forget her ?" "I wish you could--if you do wish to do it," simply replied Lucy.
"Wish! I wish I could have swallowed a draught of old Lethe's stream last February, and never recalled her again!" He spoke vehemently, and yet there was a little undercurrent of suppressed consciousness deep down in his heart, whispering that his greatest solace was to remember her, and to talk of her as he was doing now.

To talk of her as he would to his own soul: and that he had now learned to do with Lucy Tempest.

Not to any one else in the whole world could Lionel have breathed the name of Sibylla.
"Do you suppose she will soon be coming home ?" asked Lucy, after a silence.
"Of course she will.

The news of his inheritance went out shortly after they started, and must have got to Melbourne nearly as soon as they did.
There's little doubt they are on their road home now.