‘I am not jealous of fairies, dear Ferdinand.’
‘And yet I half believe that you are a fairy, my Henrietta.’
‘A very substantial one, I fear, my Ferdinand. Is this a compliment to my form?’
‘Well, then, a sylvan nymph, much more, I assure you, to my fancy; perhaps the rosy Dryad of this fair tree; rambling in woods, and bounding over commons, scattering beautiful flowers, and dreams as bright.’
‘And were your dreams bright yesterday morning?’
‘I dreamed of you.’
‘And when you awoke?’
‘I hastened to the source of my inspiration.’
‘And if you had not dreamt of me?’
‘I should have come to have enquired the reason why.’