ou, Nell?" but she could not utter them.

Still they were answered, for it appeared to her that the dog thought,
and that she could read its thought, which was:

"Yes, it is I, who though but a dog, having been the last to leave you,
am allowed to be the first to greet you," and it lifted its head and
looked at her with eyes full of a wonderful love.

Her heart went out towards the faithful beast in a kind of rapture, and
her intelligence formed another question, it was:

"Where am I, and if you, a creature, are here, where are the others?"

"Be patient. I only watch you till they come," was the answer.

"Till they come. Till who come?" she murmured.

Something within told her to inquire no more. But oh! was it possible
--was the earth dream coming true?

A long while went by. She looked about her, and understood that she was
lying in a great and beautiful room beneath a dome which seemed to be
fashioned of translucent ivory or alabaster. At the end of the room were
curtains woven of some glittering stuff that gave out light. At length
these curtains were drawn, and through them, bearing a cup in her hand,
passed a shape like to that of a mortal woman, only so radiant that
Barbara knew that had she been alive with the old life she would have
felt afraid.

This shape also was clad in garments that gave out light, and in its
hair were jewelled flowers. It glided to her side and looked at her with
loving, mysterious eyes. Then it held the cup to her lips, and said, or
rather thought, for the speech of that land declared itself in thought
and vision:

"Drink of this new wine."

She drank of the wine, and a wonderful life fell upon her like a glory.

"Who are you, O Vision?" she asked, and by way of answer there rose up
within her a picture of herself, Barbara, leaning over a cot and looking
at the white face of a dead child in a certain room in London. Then she
knew that this was her daughter, and stretched out her arms towards her
and received her in her arms.

Presently she looked again, and there around the bed appeared four other
shapes of beauty.

"You have forgotten us, Barbara," said one of them, "but we are your
sisters who died in infancy."

For the third time she looked, and behold! kneeling at her side, just as
he had been found kneeling in the church, was her adored father, grown
more young. Once more she looked, and last of all, breathing ineffable
love, came her lost darling, Anthony himself.