A DREAM The day that Ariston left, the Mater summoned me to her room to make plans for the day, and I found Lydia there, engaged in moving a bracket of beautifully wrought iron that she found too low. While I talked to the Mater I found my eyes following Lydia's movements as she stood with her back to me unscrewing the bracket from the wall. The Mater soon came to an understanding with me and left the room to attend to her household duties. I was left alone with Lydia. She had by this time unscrewed the bracket and was holding it higher up against the wall, estimating the height, prior to fastening it in again. "You will never be able to fasten it at that height," said I, "without a ladder." She looked round at me, still holding the bracket against the wall, and I wished I had the art of a sculptor to immortalize her as she stood. She smiled as she said: "How about a chair, Xenos?" I immediately brought a chair to her. She stepped upon it but slipped. I was holding the back of the chair, and as she slipped I put out my hands to catch her. For a moment I held her in my arms. She had stumbled in such a way that her head was thrown a little back over my shoulder, and before she could recover herself her face was so close to mine that I could have kissed her with the slightest possible movement of my face. I thought that I had conquered the feeling which she had inspired in me the first moment I set eyes on her on Tyringham hill. But the blood, rushing through my veins, and my beating pulses, as I held her for a moment in my arms, told me that I was still hopelessly in love with her. She seemed altogether unaware of it, for recovering her balance she laughed a little, looked at me straight in the eyes, her brows a little lifted, and her lovely lips parted by a smile. "I slipped," she said. "Wasn't it silly of me!" And jumping on the chair she got to work again. I watched her work and drank deep draughts of delicious poison as I watched. As soon as she had finished she looked at her work critically and said: "That is very much better!" and turning to me, added, "Isn't it?" I could not help wondering whether she was as unconscious of the effect she produced as she seemed to be. But she gave me no chance of discovering, for finding I did not answer but stood there silent, like a fool, she added: "I must be off! _Au revoir!_" and taking up her screwdriver and other things, went with the appearance of utter unconsciousness out of the room. * * * * * All that day my mind was haunted by her; I knew it was folly to harbor hope, and yet I harbored it fatuously; her image came in and out of my mind as the sun on a rainy day in and out of the clouds, to delight and to torment. That evening the orchestra played a minuet of Mozart so charmingly that Lydia rose, and saying, "We really must dance to that," made a sweeping bow.