In another, which was once her bedroom, everything was left as in her lifetime, her clothes yet hanging in the wardrobe, her dressing-case standing upon the toilet, her favorite book upon the table beside the bed.

These things, told to me by the servants with much mystery, took a powerful hold upon my childish imagination.

I trembled as I passed the closed doors at dusk, and listened fearfully outside when daylight gave me courage to linger near them.

Something of my mother's presence, I fancied, must yet dwell within--something in her shape still wander from room to room in the dim moonlight, and echo back the sighing of the night winds.

Alas! I could not remember her.