“Been having a dream, mother?” he asked.  “It must have been an exciting one.”

Somewhat dazed, Mrs. Hampton looked at the young man before her, and her senses returned.  She smiled faintly, and asked him the time.

“It is past midnight,” was the reply.  “I am sorry to disturb you, but you are needed downstairs.  I have someone with me who has met with a slight accident.”

“A man or a woman?”

“A woman.  Just slip on your dressing-gown.”

“All right, John, I shall be down in a few minutes.”  Mrs. Hampton was sitting up in bed now, fully awake.  Someone needed her, so she must not delay.

It did not take her long to dress, and as she left her room and descended the stairs, she noticed a light shining from the parlour.  She thought it strange that John should take the woman in there.  Stepping softly, she reached the door, and was about to enter, when she suddenly stopped, and stared with amazement upon the scene which met her eyes.  Lying upon the sofa was a young woman, a mere girl so she seemed, with a white bandage bound about her forehead.  John was kneeling by her side, with his right hand in hers, and his eyes fixed lovingly upon her face.  All this Mrs. Hampton noted at the first glance, and the reason for John’s visit to the quarry was at once apparent,

And as she looked the girl slightly turned her head, and as Mrs. Hampton’s eyes rested upon her face, she gave a great start and clutched at the side of the door for support.  It was the face of the girl she had seen in her dream!  It was her own daughter who had appeared to her for one fleeting instant.  Mrs. Hampton trembled violently as she stood there.  Was she still asleep? she wondered, and would she awake to find it all a dream?  But when she saw the look of love in the girl’s eyes, and the smile which illumined her face, she knew that it was no fading dream.  And just then John saw her.

“Mother!” he cried, leaping to his feet.  “I am glad you have come.  Here she is, and she wants to meet you.”

He had now taken Mrs. Hampton by the arm, and was leading her across the room to where the girl was lying.

“Mother, this is Jess—­Jess Randall, and she has met with an accident.  I have brought her here for you to nurse.”

“Jess Randall!” Mrs. Hampton repeated, as she took the girl’s hand in hers.  It was the name of the girl who had been drowned at Benton’s wharf.  Could it be possible that she was the same!  And was this stranger her own daughter?

John noted her bewildered look, and laughed outright.

“No wonder you are astonished, mother,” he told her, “This is really Miss Randall, the girl who was drowned.  It’s a great secret, and we shall tell you all about it later.  Don’t ask too many questions now, for we are too happy to answer them, are we not, Jess?”