Fearful Waiting

Still the wood is dim and lonely,
Still the plashing fountains play,
But the past with all its beauty,
Whither has it fled away?
Hark! the mournful echoes say,
Fled away!--A.A. PROCTOR.

"And the apparition that we both saw was like that of the gipsy girl in
the ghostly legend," said Sybil, musingly.

"Yes; in the matter of the red cloak--a very common garment, dear Sybil.
Such a resemblance reminds us of Paganini's portrait which the child
said was like him, 'about the fiddle,'" replied Lyon Berners, with an
effort towards pleasantry, which was very far indeed from his heart; for
he was oppressed with grief and dread. He was anxiously looking forward
to the arrival of Captain Pendleton; and fearing for the effect his
disclosures must have upon his beloved Sybil, who seemed still so
utterly unable to realize her position. She seemed almost satisfied now,
so that Lyon was near her, and she was the only object of his care. So
disengaged was her mind, at this hour, from all real appreciation of her
situation, that she had leisure to feel interested in the tale that Lyon
had told her. She again reverted to it.

"But the likeness was not only in the red cloak, it was in the whole
gipsy style. I spoke of that, even before you had told me anything about
the gipsy girl," persisted Sybil.

Before Lyon could answer her, steps were heard approaching.

"There is Pendleton," exclaimed Mr. Berners, and he arose and hurried
forward to meet the visitor.