“I promise not to laugh, but I won't promise to believe.”
“If my husband is dead,” said Alice, “he is dead and I shall never see him again in this world; if he is still living, he is somewhere in this world, and it's my duty to find him.”
“I will agree to that,” assented her hearer, “but you know that I have no faith that he is alive. Just think, twenty-three years have passed away and you have had no word from him. Out of deference to your feelings, Alice, I had put off making my will since Sir Stuart died until yesterday. It is now signed and in my lawyer's hands. It is no secret, I have left all I possess to your son Quincy.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I promised his father that he should have it, but as I think he will never come to claim it, I gave it to his son, as he or you would do if it was yours. Now, your dreams have put some idea into your head. Where do you think your husband is?”
“I don't know what country it is, but, in my dreams, thrice repeated, I have seen him standing in a grove of trees filled with fruit—lemons and oranges they appeared to be.”
“Did he speak to you or you to him?”
“He looked at me but gave no sign of recognition. I called his name, but he did not answer me.”
“That proves what I said. You are always thinking about him, and your mind made up your dream.”
“Where do lemons and oranges grow?”