s that the only occasion on which imagination has played me a
trick. One night, when I came home late from market, I walked into the
cottage parlour thinking to find Hortense; but instead of her I thought
I found you. There was no candle in the room; my sister had taken the
light upstairs with her. The window-blind was not drawn, and broad
moonbeams poured through the panes. There you were, Lina, at the
casement, shrinking a little to one side in an attitude not unusual with
you. You were dressed in white, as I have seen you dressed at an evening
party. For half a second your fresh, living face seemed turned towards
me, looking at me; for half a second my idea was to go and take your
hand, to chide you for your long absence, and welcome your present
visit. Two steps forward broke the spell. The drapery of the dress
changed outline; the tints of the complexion dissolved, and were
formless. Positively, as I reached the spot, there was nothing left but
the sweep of a white muslin curtain, and a balsam plant in a flower-pot,
covered with a flush of bloom. 'Sic transit,' et cetera."

"It was not my wraith, then? I almost thought it was."

"No; only gauze, crockery, and pink blossom--a sample of earthly
illusions."

"I wonder you have time for such illusions, occupied as your mind must
be."

"So do I. But I find in myself, Lina, two natures--one for the world and
business, and one for home and leisure. Gerard Moore is a hard dog,
brought up to mill and market; the person you call your cousin Robert is
sometimes a dreamer, who lives elsewhere than in Cloth-hall and
counting-house."

"Your two natures agree with you. I think you are looking in good
spirits and health. You have quite lost that harassed air which it often
pained one to see in your face a few months ago."

"Do you observe that? Certainly I am disentangled of some difficulties.
I have got clear of some shoals, and have more sea-room."

"And, with a fair wind, you may now hope to make a prosperous voyage?"

"I may _hope_ it--yes--but hope is deceptive. There is no controlling
wind or wave. Gusts and swells perpetually trouble the mariner's
course; he dare not dismiss from his mind the expectation of tempest."

"But you are ready for a breeze; you are a good seaman, an able
commander. You are a skilful pilot, Robert; you will weather the storm."

"My kinswoman always thinks the best of me, but I will take her words
for a propitious omen. I will consider th