Deena found herself sitting up in bed, the early daylight making "the casement slowly grow a glimmering square." The impression of her dream was so vivid that the depression weighed upon her like something physical. It was impossible to sleep, and at seven o'clock she got up to dress, having heard the servant go downstairs.

On her way to her bath she passed the rocking-chair, and lying directly in her path was a little card, yellow with age. Deena picked it up and read: "From Mother to Simeon." The coincidence worked so on her imagination that she sank into the nearest chair trembling from head to foot, and then she reflected that she must have pulled the card out of the table drawer when she went to fetch the portfolio the night before, and she called herself a superstitious _silly_, and made her bath a little colder than usual, as a tonic to her nerves.