90
WYLDER'S HjUVD.
Tamar looked anxiously and suspiciously in the kitch-
en fire, and placed her puckered hand to the side of her
white linen cap.
"I dreamed, ma'am, the night before he came, a great
fellow was at the hall-door.''
"What! here?"
"Yes, ma'am, this hall-door. So muffled up I could
not see his face; and he pulls out a letter all over red."
"Red ink?"'
"No, miss, red paper, written with black, and directed
for you."
"Oh!"
"And so, miss, in my dream, I gave it you in the
drawing-room; and you opened it. and leaned your hand
upon your head, sick-like, reading it. I never saw you
read a letter so serious-like before. And says you to me,
miss,'; It's all about Master Stanley; he is coming." And
sure enough, here he was quite unexpected, next morning."
"And was there no more? " asked Miss Lake.
"No more, miss. I awoke just then."
"It is odd," said Miss Lake, with a little laugh.
"Had you been thinking of him lately?"
"Not a bit ma'am. I don't know when."
"Well, it certainly is very odd.
At all events, it had glanced upon a sensitive recollec-
tion unexpectedly. The kitchen was only a kitchen now;
and the young lady, on a sudden, looked thoughtful —
perhaps a little sad.
"Light the candles in the drawing-room, Margery, and
then, child, go to your bed," said the young lady, awaken-
ing from an abstraction. "I don't mind dreams, Tamar,
nor fortune-tellers — I've dreamed so many good dreams,
and no good ever came of them. But talking of Stanley
reminds me of trouble and follies that I can't help, or