She saw what seemed to her the sorrowful ghost of the pretty, blooming child that had left her long ago.

She tried to call out, but her voice failed her.

She tried to run forward and meet the figure coming slowly through the meadows, but she was powerless to move.

She never heard the footsteps of her husband and his guest.

She only stirred when Stephen Thorne placed his hand upon her shoulder, and in a loud, cheery voice, asked what ailed her.
"Look," she said, hoarsely, "look down the meadow there and tell me--if that is Dora or Dora's ghost ?" She drew near more swiftly now, for she had seen the three figures at the door.