Then he told his dream, to which Euphra listened with an interest uninjured by the grotesqueness of its fancy. Each interpreted the other’s with reverence.
They ceased talking; and sat silent for a while. Then Harry, putting his arms round Euphra’s neck, and his lips close to her ear, whispered:
“Perhaps God will say my darling to you some day, Euphra; just as your mother did in your dream.”
She was silent. Harry looked round into her face, and saw that the tears were flowing fast.
At that instant, a gentle knock came to the door. Euphra could not reply to it. It was repeated. After another moment’s delay, the door opened, and Margaret walked in.
CHAPTER XII. A SUNDAY WITH FALCONER.
How happy is he born and taught,
That serveth not another’s will;
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill.
This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise or fear to fall:
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
And, having nothing, yet hath all.