No one of the poems which have been placed in the urn,—­that is, in the silver sugar-bowl,—­has had any name attached to it; but you could guess pretty nearly who was the author of some of them, certainly of the one just, referred to.  Number Five was attracted to the Tutor from the first time he spoke to her.  She dreamed about him that night, and nothing idealizes and renders fascinating one in whom we have already an interest like dreaming of him or of her.  Many a calm suitor has been made passionate by a dream; many a passionate lover has been made wild and half beside himself by a dream; and now and then an infatuated but hapless lover, waking from a dream of bliss to a cold reality of wretchedness, has helped himself to eternity before he was summoned to the table.

Since Number Five had dreamed about the Tutor, he had been more in her waking thoughts than she was willing to acknowledge.  These thoughts were vague, it is true,—­emotions, perhaps, rather than worded trains of ideas; but she was conscious of a pleasing excitement as his name or his image floated across her consciousness; she sometimes sighed as she looked over the last passage they had read from the same book, and sometimes when they were together they were silent too long,—­too long!  What were they thinking of?

And so it was all as plain sailing for Number Five and the young Tutor as it had been for Delilah and the young Doctor, was it?  Do you think so?  Then you do not understand Number Five.  Many a woman has as many atmospheric rings about her as the planet Saturn.  Three are easily to be recognized.  First, there is the wide ring of attraction which draws into itself all that once cross its outer border.  These revolve about her without ever coming any nearer.  Next is the inner ring of attraction.  Those who come within its irresistible influence are drawn so close that it seems as if they must become one with her sooner or later.  But within this ring is another,—­an atmospheric girdle, one of repulsion, which love, no matter how enterprising, no matter how prevailing or how insinuating, has never passed, and, if we judge of what is to be by what has been, never will.  Perhaps Nature loved Number Five so well that she grudged her to any mortal man, and gave her this inner girdle of repulsion to guard her from all who would know her too nearly and love her too well.  Sometimes two vessels at sea keep each other company for a long distance, it may be daring a whole voyage.  Very pleasant it is to each to have a companion to exchange signals with from time to time; to came near enough, when the winds are light, to hold converse in ordinary tones from deck to deck; to know that, in case of need, there’s help at hand.  It is good for them to be near each other, but not good to be too near.  Woe is to them if they touch!  The wreck of one or both is likely to be the consequence.  And so two well-equipped and heavily freighted natures may be the best of companions