And then he is so glad to find this dream staying by him when so many others have slipped away, that he stretches out his hands, and beckons with a cry of welcome. "My Perdita, I feared I had lost you! Where did you go?" "I have never left your side." "I could not find you, and I have been wandering, wandering everywhere. How was it you got away from my hand?" She, bending her ear to catch these feeble accents, glows with a look of wonder and joy; all the lines of weariness pass away from her face; for the moment she is quite beautiful. "Dear one, was it really _me_ you were trying to hold in your sleep?" she asks, softly. "I saw your brow gather, and your lips move, and an anxious expression come over you in every little slumber: but when I held your groping hand you clasped mine tightly, and became happy in your dreams. Was it Perdita whom you wished so much to keep by you?" "Yes, yes; that was it. You express my thoughts so smoothly for me that I wish you would try again. Something has got away from me after all. Let me hold you while I try to remember." She gives him her hand, and she gives him also her faithful bosom. Gladly she lifts him in her frail arms, and clasps him close, close, and she presses her lips upon his sunken eyelids with kisses as soft and healing as the flowers of Paradise. "It is coming back, I kept it so long, in spite of the whirling goblins and demons who tried to snatch it from me, but when I came to you just now I found that it was gone. Did you take it from me, and give it back to me now when you laid my head upon your bosom?" "What was it, my darling?" "Your promise, Perdita." "What promise, dear love?" "That you would never leave me. Don't you remember saying that?" "What would you care for me when you were strong and well?" falters the nurse, with quivering lips. The sick man tries to set his poor paralyzed brain in thinking order at this contingency, but the effort is far beyond him, and he relapses with an anxious sigh. "I do not want to drift away and be pushed back into the cruel world I have left," he murmurs, earnestly, "and it lies with you to keep me in this pure place. I lost you ages ago, you know--ages ago, when I was pure and loving as yourself; and see what I am now for want of you, Perdita?" "You will soon enough be glad to part from me again," answers the nurse, turning aside her swimming eyes. "Must you go, Perdita, after your promise?" "I must go when I have ceased to make one moment lighter for you. I promised that I would stay until then." "Promise it again--you will stay until you cease to be desired by me." "Until I cease to be required by you," she amends, straining him to her yearning and foreboding heart. "I shall always require you," said the sick man, with exultation; "I could not take one step in this pure atmosphere without you. Oh, you don't know how I shall hold to you, my lost Perdita."