given place to other images. The mother was about returning to her
own pillow, when Fanny said, in a voice of sad entreaty--

"Oh! Mr. Lyon! Don't! don't!"

There was a moment or two of breathless stillness, and then, with a
sharp cry of fear, the sleeper started up, exclaiming--

"Mother! father! Oh, come to me! Come!"

"Fanny, my child!" was the mother's instant response, and the yet
half-dreaming girl fell forward into her arms, which were closed
tightly around her. What a strong thrill of terror was in every part
of her frame!

"Dear Fanny! What ails you? Don't tremble so! You are safe in my
arms. There, love, nothing shall harm you."

"Oh, mother! dear mother! is it you?" half sobbed the not yet
fully-awakened girl.

"Yes, love. You are safe with your mother. But what have you been
dreaming about?"

"Dreaming!" Fanny raised herself from her mother's bosom, and looked
at her with a bewildered air.

"Yes, dear--dreaming. This is your own room, and you are on your own
bed. You have only been frightened by a fearful dream."