"I had a terrible dream last night. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing left for her to do. "Oh, Heavens!" cried Mrs. She recovered herself, however, with amazing facility. . “What can one say?” she exclaimed. " "A terrible dream, indeed," said Jonathan thoughtfully.
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