Just so," said the physician, "the cases are very similar; yet the
most mysterious part of this affair is, that it does not appear to
originate with the individual, or his organization, or his sympathy
with beings of the invisible world; no, the individual has nothing to
say to it--the locality does it all. Every one who sleeps there has
his mysterious dream, and the result proves its truth."

"At least, in most instances," continued the Baron, "when we have had
an opportunity of hearing the cases confirmed. I remember once, in
particular. You may recollect, Lieutenant, that when you first came
in, I had the honor of telling you you were not quite a stranger to
me."

"Certainly, Baron; and I have been wishing for a long time to ask an
explanation of these words."

"We have often heard your name mentioned by a particular friend of
yours--one who could never pronounce it without emotion."

"Ah!" cried Edward, who now saw clearly why the Baron's name had
sounded familiar to him also--"ah! you speak of my friend Hallberg;
truly do you say, we were indeed dear to each other."

"Were!" echoed the Baron, in a faltering tone, as he observed the
sudden change in Edward's voice and countenance; "can the blooming,
vigorous youth be--"

"Dead!" exclaimed Edward; and the Baron deeply regretted that he had
touched so tender a chord, as he saw the young officer's eyes fill
with tears, and a dark cloud pass over his animated features.

"Forgive me," he continued, while he leaned forward and pressed
his companion's hand; "I grieve that a thoughtless word should have
awakened such deep sorrow. I had no idea of his death; we all loved
the handsome young man, and by his description of you were already
much interested in you before we had ever seen you."

The conversation now turned entirely on Hallberg. Edward related the
particulars of his death. Every one present had something to say in
his praise; and although this sudden allusion to his dearest friend
had agitated Edward in no slight degree, yet it was a consolation to
him to listen to the tribute these worthy people paid to the memory of
Ferdinand, and to see how genuine was their regret at the tidings of
his early death. The time passed swiftly away in conversation of much
interest, and the whole company were surprised to hear ten o'clock
strike, an unusually late hour for this quiet, regular family. The
chaplain read prayers, in which Edward devoutly joined, and then
he ki