I fell back upon my pillow, nearer swooning than ever I had been in my life; for now I knew that this was no dream, but a vision—an apparition to me, and to me only.
I slept no more that night.
And in the morning when I arose, and looked into the glass, I was startled at the haggardness of my own face.
When we appeared at the breakfast-table, some of the young people remarked my paleness, and said that I had been frolicking more than was good for me. Then one of the company inquired of Rachel Noales how she had rested.
"Not very well," Rachel answered; "I was frightened by the door flying open in the middle of the night."
I noticed a quick, intelligent look pass between Mathilde and her mother, while Rachel continued:
"I thought at first that it was thieves breaking in; but I know now that it flew open because Agnes had not locked the door fast enough to hold it."
"No, I had not," said I.
The arrival of the mailbag put an end to this discussion. The letters were distributed at the table. Among them was one from my brother to Mr. Legare, accepting his invitation for himself and his friend, whom he begged to name as the Hon. Francis Howard, of Massachusetts, and announcing the letter as a mere avant courier of the party which would reach Frost Height that afternoon.
Upon hearing the name of Frank Howard as the "friend" of John and their expected guest, Mathilde flushed and paled, and was quite unable to conceal from the interested scrutiny of her parents the emotion these tidings caused her.