"Do you kiss me?" asked the poor creature, in amazement.
"Yes, dear Fanny! Don't you know me?"
"Yes, yes, you are—I know you—you are—let's see, now—"
"Edith Lance, you know—your old playmate!"
"Ah! yes, I know—you had another name."
"Edith Shields, since I was married, but I am widowed now, Fanny."
"Yes, I know—Fanny has heard them talk!"
She swept her hands across her brow several times, as if to clear her mental vision, and gazing upon Edith, said:
"Ah! old playmate! Did the palms lie? The ravaged tome, the blood-stained hearth, and the burning roof for me—the fated nuptials, the murdered bridegroom, and the fatherless child for you. Did the palms lie, Edith? You were ever incredulous! Answer, did the palms lie?"
"The prediction was partly fulfilled, as it was very likely to be at the time our neighborhood was overrun by a ruthless foe. It happened so, poor Fanny! You did not know the future, any more than I did—no one on earth knows the mysteries of the future, 'not the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.'"