“I did not know whether you could come. I feel that my happiness cannot last long. And, Zoe dear, I have had a dream. I dreamed we were taken prisoners, and carried to Vizard Court, and on the steps stood Vizard and Mademoiselle Klosking arm-in-arm; I believe they were man and wife. And you were taken out and led, weeping, into the house, and I was left there raging with agony. And then that lady put out her finger in a commanding way, and I was whirled away into utter darkness, and I heard you moan, and I fought, and dashed my head against the carriage, and I felt my heart burst, and my whole body filled with some cold liquid, and I went to sleep, and I heard a voice say, 'It is all over; his trouble is ended.' I was dead.” This narrative, and his deep dejection, set Zoe's tears flowing. “Poor Edward!” she sighed. “I would not survive you. But cheer up, dear; it was only a dream. We are not slaves. I am not dependent on any one. How can we be parted?” “We shall, unless we use our opportunity, and make it impossible to part us. Zoe, do not slight my alarm and my misgivings; such warnings are prophetic. For Heaven's sake, make one sacrifice more, and let us place our happiness beyond the reach of man!” “Only tell me how.” “There is but one way--marriage.” Zoe blushed high, and panted a little, but said nothing. “Ah!” said he, piteously, “I ask too much.” “How can you say that?” said Zoe. “Of course I shall marry you, dearest. What! do you think I could do what I _have_ done for anybody but my husband that is to be?” “I was mad to think otherwise,” said he, “but I am in low spirits, and full of misgivings. Oh, the comfort, the bliss, the peace of mind, the joy, if you would see our hazardous condition, and make all safe by marrying me to-morrow.” “To-morrow! Why, Edward, are you mad? How can we be married, so long as my brother is so prejudiced against you?” “If we wait his consent, we are parted forever. He would forgive us after it--that is certain. But he would never consent. He is too much under the influence of his--of Mademoiselle Klosking.” “Indeed, I cannot hope he will consent beforehand,” sighed Zoe; “but I have not the courage to defy him; and if I had, we could not marry all in a moment, like that. We should have to be cried in church.” “That is quite gone out among ladies and gentlemen.” “Not in our family. Besides, even a special license takes time, I suppose. Oh no, I could not be married in a clandestine, discreditable way. I am a Vizard--please remember that. Would you degrade the woman you honor with your choice?” And her red cheeks and flashing eyes warned him to desist. “God forbid!” said he. “If that is the alternative, I consent to lose her--and lose her I shall.”