probably I shall have another cup.

Well, it is very curious to notice what ideas will come into a man's
head sometimes. Sometimes something waves a magic wand over his
being, and from the recesses of his soul dim things arise and walk. At
unexpected moments they come, and he grows aware of the issues of
his mysterious life, and his heart shakes and shivers like a
lightning-shattered tree. In that drear light all earthly things seem
far, and all unseen things draw near and take shape and awe him, and he
knows not what is true and what is false, neither can he trace the edge
that marks off the Spirit from the Life. Then it is that the footsteps
echo, and the ghostly footprints will not be stamped out.

Pretty thoughts again! and how persistently they come! It is one o'clock
and I will go to bed. The rain is falling in sheets outside. I can hear
it lashing against the window panes, and the wind wails through the tall
wet elms at the end of the garden. I could tell the voice of those elms
anywhere; I know it as well as the voice of a friend. What a night it
is; we sometimes get them in this part of England in October. It was
just such a night when my first wife died, and that is three years ago.
I remember how she sat up in her bed.

"Ah! those horrible elms," she said; "I wish you would have them cut
down, Frank; they cry like a woman," and I said I would, and just after
that she died, poor dear. And so the old elms stand, and I like their
music. It is a strange thing; I was half broken-hearted, for I loved her
dearly, and she loved me with all her life and strength, and now--I am
going to be married again.

"Frank, Frank, don't forget me!" Those were my wife's last words; and,