"Ah yes, George, I had forgotten," said Madame, pressing her hand to her head. "I dreamed about her last night, George--about my child."
"Not an uncommon dream for you, surely, maman?" said George kindly. "What you are always thinking of by day will most probably not desert your mind at night."
"No, not at all uncommon; but I have never dreamed of her as I dreamed last night. George, she is coming; you will see her very soon."
"I! But you, maman--you will see her too?"
"I am not so sure of that, George. She was all dim and indistinct in my dream. I think I shall be dead, George; but you will see her; I shall have the comfort of knowing that, and--and of knowing that you will love her, George."
"Why, maman, of course I shall love her, for your sake."
"No, George; for her own. You will love her for her own sake, and you will marry her, my son."
"Maman, maman!" said George, taking her hand, and looking up into her face with a loving smile. "But how do you know that she will consent? You forget I am an old bachelor, and----"
"You will marry her, George," said Madame, her face clouding over at once. "And yet--and yet she is but an infant, poor child!"
"There, there, maman darling----"