“If my husband is dead,” said Alice, “he is dead and I shall never see him again in this world; if he is still living, he is somewhere in this world, and it's my duty to find him.” “I will agree to that,” assented her hearer, “but you know that I have no faith that he is alive. Just think, twenty-three years have passed away and you have had no word from him. Out of deference to your feelings, Alice, I had put off making my will since Sir Stuart died until yesterday. It is now signed and in my lawyer's hands. It is no secret, I have left all I possess to your son Quincy.” “Why did you do that?” “I promised his father that he should have it, but as I think he will never come to claim it, I gave it to his son, as he or you would do if it was yours. Now, your dreams have put some idea into your head. Where do you think your husband is?” “I don't know what country it is, but, in my dreams, thrice repeated, I have seen him standing in a grove of trees filled with fruit--lemons and oranges they appeared to be.” “Did he speak to you or you to him?” “He looked at me but gave no sign of recognition. I called his name, but he did not answer me.” “That proves what I said. You are always thinking about him, and your mind made up your dream.” “Where do lemons and oranges grow?” “In so many countries that you would have to go round the world to visit them all.” She thought to herself, “they don't grow in the ocean.” “You speak of twenty-three years having passed. That's not so long. I have read of sailors being away longer than that and finally returning home. Men have stayed in prison longer than that and have come out into the world again. Why, Quincy is only fifty-three now.” “And I'm seventy--an old woman some think me, and others call me so, but if I were sure that by living I could see Quincy again, I'd manage some way to keep alive until he came.” “You are just lovely, Aunt Ella, and I love you more than ever for those words. I believe that Quincy wants me to come to him--and I am going!” “My dear Alice, I'm sure the only way you will ever see Quincy is by going to him, for he can never come to you.” The next day Alice spent in studying the cyclopedias and maps. She estimated the cost of a six months' trip to the citron groves of Europe and America. For a week she pondered over the matter. Then something occurred that led her to make up her mind definitely. She had the same dream for the fourth time. She awoke screaming, and shaking with terror. Her aunt was awakened and ran to her room. “What is it, Alice? Dreaming again?” “Yes, the same and yet different. I saw a big man raise a club and strike Quincy on the head. He fell and I awoke.” Aunt Ella grew cynical. “Why didn't you wait long enough to see the effect of the blow?” “Oh, Auntie,” and Alice burst into tears. “What shall I do?” “I know what I'm going to do. I shall send for Dr. Parshefield and have him give you a sleeping potion.”