“Dreamed about me!” said Irene, with a degree of interest in her manner.

“Yes.  But don’t stand here, Miss Irene; come over to your room.”

“What kind of a dream had you, Margaret?” asked the young wife, as she sat down on the side of the bed where, pillowed in sleep, she had dreamed so many of girlhood’s pleasant dreams.

“I was dreaming all night about you,” replied Margaret, looking sober-faced.

“And you saw me in trouble?”

“Oh dear, yes; in nothing but trouble.  I thought once that I saw you in a great room full of wild beasts.  They were chained or in cages; but you would keep going close up to the bars of the cages, or near enough for the chained animals to spring upon you.  And that wasn’t all.  You put the end of your little parasol in between the bars, and a fierce tiger struck at you with his great cat-like paw, tearing the flesh from your arm.  Then I saw you in a little boat, down on the river.  You had put up a sail, and was going out all alone.  I saw the boat move off from the shore just as plainly as I see you now.  I stood and watched until you were in the middle of the river.  Then I thought Mr. Emerson was standing by me, and that we both saw a great monster—­a whale, or something else—­chasing after your boat.  Mr. Emerson was in great distress, and said, ’I told her not to go, but she is so self-willed.’  And then he jumped into a boat and, taking the oars, went gliding out after you as swiftly as the wind.  I never saw mortal arm make a boat fly as he did that little skiff.  And I saw him strike the monster with his oar just as his huge jaws were opened to devour you.  Dear! dear; but I was frightened, and woke up all in a tremble.”

“Before he had saved me?” said Irene, taking a deep breath.

“Yes; but I don’t think there was any chance of saving there, and I was glad that I waked up when I did.”

“What else did you dream?” asked Irene.

“Oh, I can’t tell you all I dreamed.  Once I saw you fall from the high rock just above West Point and go dashing down into the river.  Then I saw you chased by a mad bull.”

“And no one came to my rescue?”

“Oh yes, there was more than one who tried to save you.  First, your father ran in between you and the bull; but he dashed over him.  Then I saw Mr. Emerson rushing up with a pitchfork, and he got before the mad animal and pointed the sharp prongs at his eyes; but the bull tore down on him and tossed him away up into the air.  I awoke as I saw him falling on the sharp-pointed horns that were held up to catch him.”

“Well, Margaret, you certainly had a night of horrors,” said Irene, in a sober way.

“Indeed, miss, and I had; such a night as I don’t wish to have again.”

“And your dreaming was all about me?”

“Yes.”

“And I was always in trouble or danger?”