The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. ” Brendon went very pale. She had not nursed Leonardo for weeks for nothing. " "Mr. "Surely," he added, staring at Rowland, "either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is—" "You are not mistaken, Baptist," returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; "it is your old friend.
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