They looked at one another as the vessel moved away, and then looked backward at the spot from which it hurried fast. The loghouse, with the open door, and drooping trees about it; the stagnant morning mist, and red sun, dimly seen beyond; the vapour rising up from land and river; the quick stream making the loathsome banks it washed more flat and dull: how often they returned in dreams! How often it was happiness to wake and find them Shadows that had vanished!