"Yes, I am your friend, my dear, and will always be, if you want one." She was a very tender little thing, and as I kissed her she threw her arms round my neck and clung to me. "And now, I'll give you some other advice—to go to bed; and after a night's rest, I daresay we shall see our way."
After I had seen her into bed and shown her that her room opened into mine, I went downstairs to think over all she had told me, all the tangle of trouble ahead for her, and its possible effects upon my course.
It was quite late when at length I went to bed; and I was lying unable to sleep in my perplexed anxiety when I heard her call out as if in fear. I started up and then she came running into my room.
"Are you awake, Christabel?"
"What is it, dear?"
"I have had a dream and am frightened. Let me come to you."
And just like a child she crept into my bed and into my arms.
"I dreamt that Karl was dead and that my father had killed him," she moaned. "And he was going to kill me and my child when I screamed out and woke."
Was it an omen? The thought stayed with me long after I had calmed her fright and soothed her to sleep.
God help the helpless, trustful, clinging child! It might well be an omen, indeed. My heart was heavy for her and her trouble.