ered her.

She was there, in very deed and truth, deep in the hollow of the great
chair of Indian wickerwork; and as before, the soft graying of the
evening sky was mirrored in her eyes.

I sighed, and there was a catching of the breath at the bottom of it.
Truly, the wondrous dream had had its agonies, but there were also
beatitudes to tip the scale the other way. For I had dreamed this
sweet-faced watcher was my wife--in name, at least.

'Twas while I looked, minding not the eye-ache the effort cost, that she
rose and came softly to the bedside. She said no word, but, as once in
the dream-time, she laid a cool palm on my forehead. Weak as I was--and
surely King David was not weaker when he wrote his bones were gone to
water--the old love-madness of that other day came to thrill me at her
touch, and I made as if I would take her hand and press it to my lips.

"Nay, sir," she said, with a swift return to sick-room discipline, "you
must not stir; you have been sorely hurt."

"Aye," said I; "I do remember; 'twas in a duel with one Francis
Falconnet. He said he would make you his--"

Now the soft palm was laid on my lips, and I kissed it till she snatched
it away.

"_Ma foi!_" she cried; "I think you are in a hopeful way to recover now,
Captain Ireton. I do protest I shall go and send old Anthony to sit with
you."

"Anthony?" said I; "he was in the dream, too, putting up the chain on
the hall door."

"Ah, _mon Dieu_!" she said softly, as if to herself, "he is wandering
yet." At which, as if to try to help me: "'Twas no dream; you did see
him putting on the chain."

"Did I? I made sure I dreamed it. But tell me another thing; was it not
yesterday that I met Sir Francis Falconnet under the oaks in the wood
field and got this pair of redhot pincers in my shoulder?"

She turned away, and if I ever saw a tear there was one trembling in her
eyelashes.

"'Twas three full weeks ago," she said. "And it was not in the wood
field--'twas in the wine cellar. Never tell me you do not remember; I--I
could never--ah, Mother of Sorrows! that would be worse than all."

Here was a curious coil, but I could break one strand of it, at least,
and so I did.

"I remember well enough," I hastened to say. "But being here, and seeing
you there in the great chair, carried me back to that other time, making
all the interval stand as a dream. Have I been ailing?"

"You have been terribly near to death, Monsieur John; so near that
Do