Go bring me my grave clothes to-morrow."
Christine filled up the pause, her voice more dreary and inclined to "drop into the cellar" than ever.
Clara looked sobered and disappointed at this unexpected comment, but attributed it to a sudden recollection of Christine's own "what might have been."
"What makes you so sad, Christine? Is Mr. Muldweber really sinking as fast as Mrs. Wardor thinks?"
"Sinking fast, child; only the promise that his son shall be brought here, if among the living, before the moon fades, has kept the old man alive."
"Oh! Christine, stay and be glad with me now," pleaded Clara, "the time for mourning will come soon enough."
But Christine could not be made to rejoice, and all the comment she made on the other's enthusiasm was,
"Oh! Lady Clara Vere de Vere,
You put strange memories in my head."
And Clara flew up-stairs to dream over this broadening flood of sunshine as she had dreamed over the first faint glinting.