"By suggesting the possibility of my forgetting one who has saved my life," replied Lorelie, the colour stealing over her cheek. She raised her eyes to his with an expression in them that thrilled him, and continued, "Shall I tell you the dream I had last night? I thought I was still lying on those sands where I fell, unable to move. The rising tide came on and rippled around me, striking a chill through my clothing. At last the water was so high that it flowed over my face, filling my mouth and nostrils. I fought with it, but it ascended higher and ever higher above me, till I was deep down below the surface.
"And the curious part of it all was that I still lived. I lay there as in a trance, motionless, staring upwards. I could see the air-bubbles of my breath ascending to the surface. The moon with tremulous motion shone through the glassy water, looking—oh! ever so far away. The sea-weed drifted around and clung to my cheek and hair. Curious sea-monsters came and looked at me, then went away again: shell-fish crawled over me, and all night long the restless water flowed over my face and plashed in and out of my mouth. Its faint murmur rings in my ears still. In the morning I awoke and found it a dream. Then I said to myself, 'This is what would have happened if—if no one had been near to aid me.'"
"It is past now," replied Idris, observing her shiver. "Don't think any more about it."
"The peril is past, but the memory of it remains. Ah, that dream! If it should occur again to-night I shall begin to be like Richard III, and tremble at the thought of sleep. Shall I put those flowers in your coat, Mr. Breakspear? You seem to find it a difficulty."
Idris readily accepted her proffered aid.
"Forget-me-not," she murmured, fastening the nosegay to his button-hole; and Idris wondered whether the words were addressed to him, or whether she was simply repeating the name of the flower: the latter it seemed by her next remark. "Why should our French myosotis be called in English, 'Forget-me-not'? Can you tell me the origin of the name?"
Idris could, and did: relating the somewhat apocryphal story of the youth, who, in wading to the opposite bank of a river with a view of procuring some flowers for his sweetheart, was swept off by the current and drowned, but not before he had had time to fling the flowers at her feet with the parting cry of "Forget-me-not!"
"The moral of which is," added Idris, "learn to swim."
"You are spoiling a pretty story by your cynicism," said Lorelie. "His love was all the greater if he could not swim."
She turned to arrange her flowers upon the altar of the Ravengar Chantry. Idris was watching her when his eye was caught by a shadow outlined on the stone pavement. The sun was shining through the window above the altar, and casting at his feet glowing splashes of various hues. For a few seconds he continued to stare, doubtful whether he saw aright, and then, slowly raising his gaze, he followed the slanting shaft of coloured light upward from the pavement till his eyes rested upon the stained window.