Six weeks had flown away, and Amine, restored to health, wandered over the country, hanging on the arm of her adored Philip, or nestled by his side in their comfortable home.  Father Mathias still remained their guest; the masses for the repose of the soul of Vanderdecken had been paid for, and more money had been confided to the care of Father Seysen to relieve the sufferings of the afflicted poor.  It may be easily supposed that one of the chief topics of conversation between Philip and Amine was the decision of the two priests relative to the conduct of Philip.  He had been absolved from his oath, but, at the same time that he submitted to his clerical advisers, he was by no means satisfied.  His love for Amine, her wishes for his remaining at home, certainly added weight to the fiat of Father Seysen; but, although he in consequence obeyed it more willingly, his doubts of the propriety of his conduct remained the same.  The arguments of Amine, who, now that she was supported by the opinion of the priests, had become opposed to Philip’s departure; even her caresses, with which those arguments were mingled, were effective but for the moment.  No sooner was Philip left to himself, no sooner was the question, for a time, dismissed, than he felt an inward accusation that he was neglecting a sacred duty.  Amine perceived how often the cloud was upon his brow; she knew too well the cause, and constantly did she recommence her arguments and caresses, until Philip forgot that there was aught but Amine in the world.

One morning, as they were seated upon a green bank picking the flowers that blossomed round them, and tossing them away in pure listlessness, Amine took the opportunity that she had often waited for, to enter upon a subject hitherto unmentioned.

“Philip,” said she, “do you believe in dreams? think you that we may have supernatural communications by such means?”

“Of course we may,” replied Philip; “we have proof abundant of it in the holy writings.”

“Why, then, do you not satisfy your scruples by a dream?”

“My dearest Amine, dreams come unbidden; we cannot command or prevent them—­”

“We can command them, Philip; say that you would dream upon the subject nearest to your heart, and you shall!”

“I shall?”

“Yes!  I have that power, Philip, although I have not spoken of it.  I had it from my mother, with much more that of late I have never thought of.  You know, Philip, I never say that which is not.  I tell you, that, if you choose, you shall dream upon it.”

“And to what good, Amine?  If you have power to make me dream, that power must be from somewhere.”

“It is, of course:  there are agencies you little think of, which, in my country, are still called into use.  I have a charm, Philip, which never fails.”

“A charm, Amine! do you, then, deal in sorcery? for such powers cannot be from Heaven.”

“I cannot tell.  I only know the power is given.”