I have endeavoured to
shake it out of my foolish little head; but it won't go, Clary,--I can't
get rid of it. It occurred after you left us at Saratoga. Oh, it was
nothing though," said she, laughing and shaking her curls,--"nothing; and
now you are safely returned, I shall not think of it again. Tell me what
you have seen since you went away; and how is that dear Aunt Ada of yours
you talk so much about?"
"Oh, she is quite well," answered he; "but tell, Anne, tell me about that
dream. What was it, Birdie?--come tell me."
"I don't care to," she answered, with a slight shudder,--"I don't want to,
love."
"Yes, yes,--do, sweet," importuned he; "I want to hear it."
"Then if I must," said she, "I will. I dreamed that you and I were walking
on a road together, and 'twas such a beautiful road, with flowers and
fruit, and lovely cottages on either side. I thought you held my hand; I
felt it just as plain as I clasp yours now. Presently a rough ugly man
overtook us, and bid you let me go; and that you refused, and held me all
the tighter. Then he gave you a diabolical look, and touched you on the
face, and you broke out in loathsome black spots, and screamed in such
agony and frightened me so, that I awoke all in a shiver of terror, and did
not get over it all the next day.
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