It is the old pastor's desire; half an hour this morning, and then again this afternoon, when we exchange rings. Do you know, George, mama says a bride's dream the night before her wedding is surely an omen. Do you believe that?
George.
[Preoccupied.] Yes.
Gertrude.
I dreamed last night of a large, yellow wheat-field, in which a poor little rabbit had hidden itself; and high above, in the air, I saw a large hawk. Then it appeared to me that I was the little rabbit, and in fear and dread I called out "George! George!" when suddenly it shot down upon me!--just think----
George.
And then?
Gertrude.
Then I awoke. The cold perspiration stood thickly upon my brow---- Oh, George dear, you will protect me? You won't let any one hurt me, will you? For I am only a poor little rabbit, after all----