'Sometimes,' the old lawyer went on, 'this Illusion of mine--oh! I know it is only Illusion--takes the form of a dream--so vivid that it comes back to me afterwards as a reality. In this dream, which is always the same, I seem to have been engaged in some great scheme of practical benevolence.' 'Practical---- What? You engaged in Practical Benevolence?' the City man asked in profound astonishment. The Illusion was astonishing enough; but to have his brother talk of practical benevolence was amazing indeed. 'Practical benevolence,' repeated Mr. Dering. His voice dropped. His eyes looked out into space: he seemed as one who narrates a story. 'It is a curiously persistent dream. It comes at irregular intervals; it pleases me while it lasts.--Oh! in the evening after dinner, while one takes a nap in the easy chair, perhaps--it is, as I said, quite vivid. The action of this dream always takes place in the same room--a large room, plainly furnished, and looking out upon an open space--I should know it if I saw it--and it fills me with pleasure--in my dream--just to feel that I am--there is no other word for it--diffusing happiness. How I manage this diffusion, I can never remember; but there it is--good solid happiness, such as, in waking moments, one feels to be impossible.' 'Diffusing happiness--you!' said his brother. 'A very beautiful dream,' said Elsie. But no one dared to look in each other's face. 'This strange dream of mine,' continued Mr. Dering, 'does not form part of that little Illusion, though it seems connected with it. And as I said, mostly it comes in the evening. The other day, however, I had it in the afternoon--went to sleep in my office, I suppose.--Did you find me asleep, Checkley? It was on Friday.' 'No. On Friday afternoon you went out.' 'Ah! When I came back, then-- I had forgotten that I went out. Did I go out? Strange! Never mind. This continuous dream opens up a world of new ideas and things which are, I perceive, when I am awake, quite unreal and illusory. Yet they please. I see myself, as I said, diffusing happiness with open hands. The world which is thus made happier consists entirely of poor people. I move among them unseen: I listen to them: I see what they do, and I hear what they say. Mind--all this is as real and true to me as if it actually happened. And it fills me with admiration of the blessed state of poverty. In my dream I pity the rich, with all my heart. To get rich, I think--in this dream--they must have practised so many deceptions----' 'Brother! brother!' Sir Samuel held up both hands.