She pressed his arm very softly, looked up at him with eyes of timid mirth. 'Why should you wish to forget, love?' He knit his brows, and looked down at her with eyes that did not see. 'Because I had a dream last night.' 'But surely you put no faith in dreams?' 'No. But I put no faith in omens either. Yet, if I see an angry sky, I prepare for bad weather.' 'Bad weather often, generally, follows angry skies, but nothing follows dreams.' He looked down at her again for a moment with abstracted eyes. 'You are quite right. I employed a bad figure; I will try to find a better one. If I am driving a coach along a road, and I see another coach overturned by reckless driving, I am likely to be more careful for awhile, although there may be nothing more than coincidence in my seeing the drag overturned. So my dreaming last night that I had lost you may make me more careful not to lose you, although there is nothing more than coincidence between the facts of yesterday and my dream.' She pressed his arm slightly, and bowed her head. 'This is the love I dreamed of,' she thought. 'This is the love that will not change; for it is the love that first thinks of the loved one, and then of the love, and last of itself. This is the royal self-disdaining love. My George! My love!' She said aloud, 'May I hear what the dream was?' 'It was a kind of allegory, and was connected with one of my waking dreams. This fact alone would make it remarkable, for not one time in fifty thousand do we dream in sleep what we dream awake. I need not trouble you with my waking dream; I will tell you that at another time. In sleep this morning (I lay down for an hour or so after dawn) I saw the sea--' 'You have never really seen the sea?' 'No, but I know something of it.' 'I have seen much of it.' 'Then you shall tell me of it in our evenings by the fire by-and-by.' She pressed his arm, and looked up softly into his face. His eyes were fixed before him, and he did not look down. 'And in your dream?' 'I saw a boat come into this sea. I was in this boat, steering it. A bundle of furs lay at my feet. For days and nights I steered that boat until it entered the Thames. I knew someone--a woman--lay under these furs. I knew she was a stranger, a savage woman--' 'How fond you are of this place,' she said, interrupting him. He threw his eyes up, and surveyed, with eager admiration the august pile rising up to heaven. 'I have always loved the place,' he said, 'even before I saw it.' He withdrew his glance from aloft and cast it once more before him. Her eyes were fixed on him wistfully as she asked,-- 'And since you have seen it?' 'I have loved it all the more.' His eyes were still speculative and busy with some scene not present to his bodily eye. 'It was here,' she whispered, 'that I first saw how good and how noble you are--here, just where we are now, under St Paul's.'