was engaged to him, and we were going to be married the
following month... Next morning, when I awoke, the impression left was
unusually distinct, and at breakfast I made them all laugh over my
matrimonial plans. My sisters called me `Mrs Dalrymple' for several
days, and then the joke faded away, and was replaced by something newer
and more exciting. Two years passed by, and then, in the summer
holidays, I went to Scotland to pay a visit. A slight accident on the
line delayed me at a small station for a couple of hours, and I strolled
through the village to pass the time by seeing what could be seen. It
was a dull little place, and the principal street was empty of every one
but a few children until, when I reached the end, a man in a black coat
came suddenly out of a house and walked towards me. He was tall and
elderly and thin, his hair was grey, his eyebrows were dark and met in a
peak over his nose. My heart gave a great big jump, for it was the face
of the man I had seen in my dream--the man who was to have been my
husband! You can imagine my surprise! It was many, many months since I
had given a thought to the silly old dream, but at the first glance at
that face the memory of it came back as clear and distinct as on the
morning after it had happened. I walked towards him quite dazed with
surprise, and then another extraordinary thing happened! He was
evidently short-sighted, and could not distinguish figures at a
distance, but presently, as we drew nearer together, he in his turn
started violently, stared in my face as if he could hardly believe his
eyes, and then rushed forward and seized me by the hand. `I _am_ glad
to see you--I _am_ glad! This _is_ a pleasure! When did you come?'
Poor old man! My blank face showed him his mistake, and he dropped my
hand and began to mumble out apologies. `I've made a mistake. I
thought you were--I thought you were--' He frowned, evidently searched
in vain for a clue, and added feebly, `I thought I knew you. _Your face
is so familiar_!' It was all over in a minute. He took off his hat,
and hurried on overcome with embarrassment, and I turned mechanically in
the direction of the church. It was closed, but by the gate stood a
board bearing the hours of services, and beneath them the name of the
minister of the parish. I read it with a thrill. The name was `_The
Rev. John Dalrymple_'!"

Mrs Garnett lay back in her chair with the contented air of a
_racont