t his window between the white curtains.

His hand, that had felt so chill, was out of the bed, and the
coverlet had slid off him, and was heaped on the floor.

The wind had shifted, and now pressed the clouds together, rolled
them up and swept them into the lumber-house of clouds below the
horizon. He dressed leisurely, shook himself, to shake off the
impression produced by his dream, and laughed at himself for
having been disturbed by it.

When he came downstairs he found that both Mehetabel and Jonas
were already on their feet, and that the former was preparing
breakfast. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying.

"How did you sleep?" she asked, with faint smile--"and what were
your dreams?"

"They say that the first dream in new quarters comes true," threw
in the Broom-Squire; "but this is the idle chatter of old wives.
I make no count of it."

Mehetabel observed that Iver started and seemed disconcerted at
this question relative to his dream. He evaded an answer, and she
saw that the topic was unpleasant, and to reply inconvenient. She
said no more; and Jonas had other matters to think about more
substantial than dreams. Yet Mehetabel could not fail to perceive
that their guest was out of tune. Was he annoyed at having lost
money, or was he in reality troubled by something that had occurred
during the night? An hour later Iver prepared to leave.

"Come with me a little way," he pleaded with the hostess, "see me
safe off the premises."

She did as was desired, though not without inner reluctance. And
yet, at the same time she felt that with his departure a something
would be gone that could not be replaced, a light out of her sky,
a strain of music out of her soul.

The white fog lay like curd at the bottom of the Punch-Bowl. Here
and there a tree-top stood above the vapor, but only as a bosky
islet in the surface of mist, dense and chill. The smoke from the
chimneys of the squatter houses rose like steaming springs, but
the brick chimneys were submerged. So dense was the fog that it
muffled all sound, impeded the breath, struck cold to the marrow.
It smelt, for the savors of hog-pen and cow-stall were caught and
not allowed to dissipate.

A step, and those ascending the side of the great basin were out
of the mist, and in sunshine, but it still held their feet to the
knees; another step and they were clear, and then their shadows
were cast, gigantic, upon the white surface below, and about each
h