"What have you been dreaming of, child?" she asked. "Young girls
like you ought to sleep like flowers."
"Flowers never quite close their eyes," said Beatrice, with a
smile. "I shut mine, but my brain is active, it seems, even in
sleep. I was dreaming of the lake, Lady Helena. Dreams are very
wonderful; do they ever come true?"
"I knew one that did," replied Lady Earle. "When I was young, I
had a friend whom I loved very dearly--Laura Reardon. A
gentleman, a Captain Lemuel, paid great attention to her. She
loved him--my poor Laura--as I hope few people love. For many
months he did everything but make an offer--saw her ever day,
sent her flowers, books, and music, won her heart by a thousand
sweet words and gentle deeds. She believed he was in earnest,
and never suspected him of being a male flirt. He left London,
suddenly, saying goodbye to her in the ordinary way, and speaking
of his return in a few weeks.
"She came to me one morning and told me a strange dream. She
dreamed she was dead, and lay buried in the center aisle of an
old country church. At the same time, and in the usual vague
manner of dreams, she was conscious of an unusual stir.
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