And then, when alone, came the dream wherein the angel had led Marie Colchis to him and had spoken the prophetic words. Words prophetic of what? he asked himself. Long and long did he ponder over the vision. His was a nature to love and to desire love in return. To him, woman was an angel, a being divine. Desolate and alone, his heart demanded a companion. He admired Mollie Craft; did he love her? And when he asked the question of himself, he could give no satisfactory reply. But of one fact he felt assured: if he loved her, he loved his lost Marie more. Yet she, his Marie, was dead: was it wrong for him to seek for a companion to soothe the desolation of his heart, especially one embodying such virtues as Mollie Craft? May not the vision have been given for such an interpretation? he argued: he did not know. One day in the latter part of November, as he and Mollie were sitting by the cheerful fire in the private parlor of the executive mansion, he looked intently into her eyes, and sadly asked: "Do you not think me sad at times, Mollie?" He called her Mollie, and she called him Junius; such was the President's request, as he considered Junius Cobb his adopted son. "Yes, Junius; and it often pains me to think that, perhaps, we are not doing all that we ought to make your life happy." "Would you do more if you could?" and he fixed his eyes with a loving expression upon hers, which fell at his glance. "I am sure, Junius, that never was a sister--" and she emphasized the word--"more ready and willing to make a brother happy, than I." "Were you ever in love, Mollie?" He jerked the words out as if fearful of the answer she might give. "Why! what a question!" "But were you?" he persisted. "Now, Junius, that is not fair, to ask a girl such a question. Were you ever in love?" She laughed, but anxiously awaited his answer. "Yes." He spoke slowly and with an absent air. "Twice have I known what it was to love a woman." A tear seemed to glisten in his eye as his memory carried him back a hundred years. "Twice?" inquiringly. "Yes; or rather might I say, once to love a woman, and once to love a child." "You surprise me greatly, Junius. Will you not make a confidant of me and tell me all about your loves?" and she put her hand upon his shoulder. That touch, so gentle and light, sent a thrill of pleasure through his heart. He turned and seized her hands in his, and looked long and lovingly into her eyes. "Can man forswear his soul?" he cried, harshly, while his tight grasp of her hands gave her pain. "Do not hurt me, Junius!" she cried, trying to free her hands. He released her, and sat down in his chair.