The stream sang beneath her windows, the very stream of which the echo had ever been rippling through her dreams.

Always she had thought that it must have some particular meaning for her which would be revealed in due time.

She dwelt bitterly upon her folly.

There was no meaning in its light laughter.
In a while she was aware of a change.

There came a grayness in the room.
The moonlight had lost its white brilliance, the night was waning.