"Larkin;--yes, that was the name. He came here, sir, about the time I saw you; and he talked a great deal about my poor little child. It is dead, you know, but I did not tell him so. I promised Lady Verney I'd tell nothing to strangers--they all grow angry then. Mr. Larkin was angry, I think. But I do not speak--and you advised me to be silent--and though he said he was their lawyer, I would not answer a word." "I have no doubt you acted wisely, Mrs. Mervyn; you cannot be too cautious in holding any communication with such people." "I'd tell you, sir--if I dare; but I've promised, and I _dare_n't. Till old Lady Verney's gone, I daren't. I know nothing of law papers--my poor head! How should I? And _she_ could not half understand them. So I promised. _You_ would understand them. Time enough--time enough." "I should be only too happy, whenever you please," said Tom, making ready tender of his legal erudition. "And you, sir, have come to tell me something; what is it?" "I assure you I have nothing particular to say; I merely called to inquire how you are." "Nothing more needless, sir; how can a poor lonely old woman be, whose last hope has perished and left her alone in the world? For twenty years--more, _more_ than twenty--I have been watching, day and night; and now, sir, I look at the sea no more. I will never see those headlands again. I sit here, sir, from day to day, thinking; and, oh, dear, I wish it was all over." "Any time you should want me, I should be only too happy, and this is my address." "And you have nothing to tell me?" "No, ma'am, nothing more than I said." "It was wonderful: I dreamed last night I was looking toward Pendillion, watching as I used; the moon was above the mountain, and I was standing by the water, so that the sea came up to my feet, and I saw a speck of white far away, and something told me it was his sail at last, and nearer and nearer, very fast it came; and I walked out in the shallow water, with my arms stretched out to meet it, and when it came very near, I saw it was Arthur himself coming upright in his shroud, his feet on the water, and with his feet, hands, and face, as white as snow, and his arms stretched to meet mine; and I felt I was going to die; and I covered my eyes with my hands, praying to God to receive me, expecting his touch; and I heard the rush of the water about his feet, and a voice--it was _yours_, not his--said, 'Look at me,' and I did look, and saw you, and you looked like a man that had been drowned--your face as white as his, and your clothes dripping, and sand in your hair; and I stepped back, saying, 'My God! how have you come here?' and you said, 'Listen, I have great news to tell you;' and I waked with a shock. I don't believe in dreams more I believe than other people, but this troubles me still."