But the instant she awoke in the bright morning she went softly over to the window and looked out from a corner of her blind to that slope and to the place where they had sat. No, it was not a dream. There shone the silver leaves and there sparkled the waterfall. It was the loveliest hill in the world, she felt—lovelier even than the purple heather-clad Slieve Docas. This was a terrible thought to suggest itself to her mind, she felt all the time she was dressing, but still it remained with her and refused to be shaken off.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
... her election
Hath sealed thee for herself.
Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me.
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records...