ed heartily that I could know the rest of the
story; and I tried to summon courage to ask Madam, when we were by our
selves, if she had heard of Honor Warburton, but something held me back.

There were two other events just at this time which made this strange
old friend of mine seem stranger than ever to me. I had a dream one
night, which I took for a vision and a reality at the time. I thought
I looked out of my window in the night, and there was bright moonlight,
and I could see the other gable plainly; and I looked in at the
windows of an unoccupied parlour which I never had seen open before,
under Lady Ferry's own rooms, The shutters were pushed back, and there
were candles burning; and I heard voices, and presently some tinkling
music, like that of a harpsichord I had once heard in a very old house
where I had been in England with my mother. I saw several couples go
through with a slow, stately dance; and, when they stopped and seated
themselves, I could hear their voices; but they spoke low, these
midnight guests. I watched until the door was opened which led into
the garden, and the company came out and stood for a few minutes on the
little lawn, making their adieus, bowing low, and behaving with
astonishing courtesy and elegance: finally the last good-nights were
said, and they went away. Lady Ferry stood under the pointed porch,
looking after them, and I could see her plainly in her brocade gown,
with the impish flowers, a tall quaint cap, and a high lace frill at
her throat, whiter than any lace I had ever seen, and with a glitter on
it, and there was a glitter on her face too. One of the other ladies
was dressed in velvet, and I thought she looked beautiful: their eyes
were all like sparks of fire. The gentlemen wore cloaks and ruffs, and
high-peaked hats with wide brims, such as I had seen in some very old
pictures which hung on the walls of the long west room. These were not
pilgrims or Puritans, but gay gentlemen; and soon I heard the noise of
their boats on the pebbles as they pushed off shore, and the splash of
the oars in the water. Lady Ferry waved her hand, and went in at the
door; and I found myself standing by the window in the chilly, cloudy
night: the opposite gable, the garden, and the river, were
indistinguishable in the darkness. I stole back to bed in an agony of
fear; for it had been very real, that dream. I surely was at the
window, for my hand had been on the sill when I waked;