ed. Lady Earle, bending over her, heard
her sigh deeply and murmur something about the "deep water." She awoke,
crying out that she saw her own face, and Lady Earle saw great drops of
perspiration standing in beads upon her brow.

"What have you been dreaming of, child?" she asked. "Young girls like
you ought to sleep like flowers."

"Flowers never quite close their eyes," said Beatrice, with a smile.
"I shut mine, but my brain is active, it seems, even in sleep. I was
dreaming of the lake, Lady Helena. Dreams are very wonderful; do they
ever come true?"

"I knew one that did," replied Lady Earle. "When I was young, I had a
friend whom I loved very dearly--Laura Reardon. A gentleman, a Captain
Lemuel, paid great attention to her. She loved him--my poor Laura--as
I hope few people love. For many months he did everything but make an
offer--saw her ever day, sent her flowers, books, and music, won her
heart by a thousand sweet words and gentle deeds. She believed he was
in earnest, and never suspected him of being a male flirt. He left
London, suddenly, saying goodbye to her in the ordinary way, and
speaking of his return in a few weeks.

"She came to me one morning and told me a strange dream. She dreamed
she was dead, and lay buried in the center aisle of an old country
church. At the same time, and in the usual vague manner of dreams, she
was conscious of an unusual stir. She heard carriages drive up to the
church door; she heard the rustling of dresses, the sound of footsteps
above her head, the confused murmur of a crowd of people; then she
became aware that a marriage was going on. She heard the minister ask:

"'George Victor Lemuel, will you have this woman for your lawful wedded
wife?'

"The voice she knew and loved best in the world replied:

"'I will.'

"'Alice Ferrars, will you take this man for your lawful wedded husband?"

"'I will,' replied the clear, low voice.

"She heard the service finished, the wedding bells peal, the carriages
drive away. I laughed at her, Beatrice; but the strange thing is,
Captain George Lemuel was married on the very day Laura dreamed the
dream. He married a young lady, Alice Ferrars, and Laura had never
heard of the name before she dreamed it. The marriage took place in an
old country church. That dream came true, Beatrice; I never heard of
another dream like it."

"Did your friend die?" she asked.

"No," replied Lady Helena; "she did not die, but he