er for some time. The
relation of a dream so singular, under the circumstances, had startled
him, and he almost feared to trust his voice in response. At length,
with a deeply-drawn, sighing breath, nature's spontaneous struggle for
relief, he said--

"Yes, dear, that was a fearful dream. The thought of it makes me
shudder. But, after all, it was only a dream; the whispering of a
malignant spirit in your ear. Happily, his power to harm extends no
further. The fancy may be possessed in sleep, but the reason lies
inactive, and the hands remain idle. No guilt can stain the spirit.
The night passes, and we go abroad in the morning as pure as when we
laid our heads wearily to rest."

"And more," added Edith, her mind fast recovering itself; "with a
clearer perception of what is true and good. The soul's disturbed
balance finds its equilibrium. It is not the body alone that is
refreshed and strengthened. The spirit, plied with temptation after
temptation through the day, and almost ready to yield when the night
cometh, finds rest also, and time to recover its strength. In the
morning it goes forth again, stronger for its season of repose. How
often, as the day dawned, have I lifted my heart and thanked God for
sleep!"

Thus prompted, an emotion of thankfulness arose in the breast of
Claire, but the utterance was kept back from the lips. He had a
secret, a painful and revolting secret, in his heart, and he feared
lest something should betray its existence to his wife. What would he
not have given at the moment to have blotted out for ever the memory
of thoughts too earnestly cherished on the evening before, when he was
alone with the tempter?

There was a shadow on the heart of Edith Claire. The unusual mood of
her husband on the previous evening, and the dream which had haunted
her through the night, left impressions that could not be shaken off.
She had an instinct of danger--danger lurking in the path of one in
whom her very life was bound up.

When Edward was about leaving her to go forth for the day, she
lingered by his side and clung to him, as if she could not let him
pass from the safe shelter of home.

"Ah! if I could always be with you!" said Edith--"if we could ever
move on, hand in hand and side by side, how full to running over would
be my cup of happiness!"

"Are we not ever side by side, dear?" replied Claire, tenderly. "You
are present to my thought all the day."

"And you to mine. O yes! yes! We _a