Of the present naught is bright,
But in the coming years I see
A brilliant and a cheerful light,
Which burns before thee constantly.
—W. D. Gallagher.
At the appointed hour the next morning Traverse Rocke repaired to the cell of his mysterious patient.
He was pleased to find her up, dressed with more than usual care and taste and looking, upon the whole, much better in health and spirits than upon the preceding day.
"Ah, my young hero, it is you; you see that I am ready for you," she said, holding out her hand.
"You are looking very well this morning," said Traverse, smiling.
"Yes, hope is a fine tonic, Doctor Rocke."