My dream-lady was quite right. I hadn't missed a single word that had passed; and--passive, but with the hot blood mounting my neck and cheek--I had without protest allowed the charge of drunkenness to be made against me. I felt too weak and humiliated to make any defence. What mattered it to me, after all, what they thought, so long as they kept at a distance from me and left me to my own resources? They might have passed me, and I would have made no sign that I was aware of their presence; but when I heard my dream-lady's decision to be the bearer of my old tweed hat I started violently and looked keenly toward her. With my chin resting on my tired, lacerated hands, I watched her carefully picking her steps along the tangled incline. The fact that there was no escaping an interview was borne home to me so forcibly that it led to speedy resignation, which not only relieved my pent-up feelings, but also enabled me to observe her dispassionately, and study, without bias, her face and form. What my estimate was I cannot tell, or, rather, I will not tell; but when she reached me, with a flushed face, a half-frightened, half-defiant look in her eye, and my old tweed hat in her hand, I felt she had been aware of my critical scrutiny and resented it, although my opinion, favourable or otherwise, was to her of no consequence whatever. 'Thank you very much for bringing my hat to me,' I said awkwardly; 'and thank you still more for your belief in my sobriety.' She looked at me for a minute, the while all evidence of fear or distrust vanished from her face. Then she smiled--smiled a true smile, with parted lips that disclosed two rows of pearly teeth, and soft fringed eyes that showed in their depths trust in humanity and joy of life. 'Oh, please don't thank me for either,' she said, in a low, sweet-toned voice. 'Your hat is too good to lose. It is no trouble to return it; and as for the other--eh--matter--well'--and she looked round about her on the russet woods, the peaceful fields, and away to the west where the faint sunset glow was suffused along the Glencairn hills--'I could not bring my mind to associate such glories as these with any state so mean and degrading; and I'm glad--yes, I'm glad--that I was right.' I bowed in silent gratitude. 'I don't want to appear inquisitive,' she continued; 'but would you mind telling me why you acted so peculiarly in zigzagging up this incline instead of taking the path by the boundary beech-hedge? And, oh dear, dear! your hands are bleeding! Have you no handkerchief? See, here is one;' and she pleadingly held out a dainty piece of lace cambric which I could easily have put inside my watch-case.