"Why you: 'twas but a dream, you know," she added, blushing to the temples. Then, as the colour faded from her calm face, even more quickly than it came, she continued, "And we all looked so beautiful! and I thought you so like the Cavalier Walter, and I felt so peaceful and happy. But just as you touched my hand, there came a mist between us--a dense and chilling mist, that made the marrow curdle in my bones, and my joints stiff and iron-bound; and a voice, a low mournful voice, like the wail of a dying bird, said, 'Come!'--and I attempted to answer, 'Not yet;' but my tongue felt frozen to my teeth, and my teeth were as icicles within my lips; and I was enshrouded in the mist. Then suddenly a pang shot through my heart, as if it were the dart of death, and I would have screamed, such was its agony; but still my tongue was frozen! And I suffered, I cannot tell you what: when suddenly a soft breath breathed upon my cheek, and it felt warm and soothing, and a voice--sounding--I may as well tell it all, Robin--so like yours, said, 'Pray.' And as I prayed--not in words, but in spirit, the pain departed from me, and the blood flowed again through my veins; and gazing upwards, I found that I was not in the ruined chapel, but in the presence of the blessed Saviour! He looked upon us--upon us both----" "Stop, Barbara!" exclaimed Robin, whose imagination, at all times easily worked upon, now became absolute torture, "for mercy, stop! It was but the dream of a weak girl." For the first time since she had grown to woman's estate, he pressed her to his bosom, and then silently walked with her to the little gate that led to the garden. "Let Crisp stay with me. Bright-eye and he agree better than usual," said Barbara with a quiet smile. "I will," replied Robin, adding, as he turned away, "Trust in the God you worship, and put no faith in dreams." CHAPTER V. Tell men of high condition That rule affairs of state, Their purpose is ambition, Their practice only hate; And if they once reply, Then give them all the lie. Tell Wit how much it wrangles In tickle points of niceness-- Tell Wisdom she entangles Herself in over-wiseness; And when they do reply, Straight give them both the lie. JOSHUA SILVESTER.