“No not ill; but I could not sleep,” replied Amine.
“Then didst thou do well to pass the night—as I doubt not thou hast done, my child, in holy watchings.”
Philip shuddered; he knew that the watching, had its cause been known, would have been, in the priest’s opinion, anything but holy. Amine quickly replied—
“I have, indeed, communed with higher powers, as far as my poor intellect hath been able.”
“The blessing of our holy Church upon thee, my child!” said the old man, putting his hand upon her head; “and on thee, too, Philip.”
Philip, confused, sat down to the table; Amine was collected as ever. She spoke little, it is true, and appeared to commune with her own thoughts.
As soon as the repast was finished, the old priest took up his breviary, and Amine beckoning to Philip, they went out together. They walked in silence until they arrived at the green spot where Amine had first proposed to him that she should use her mystic power. She sat sown, an Philip, fully aware of her purpose, took his seat by her in silence.
“Philip,” said Amine, taking his hand, and looking earnestly in his face, “last night you dreamed.”
“I did indeed, Amine,” replied Philip, gravely.
“Tell me your dream, for it will be for me to expound it.”