"The kitchen I saw in my dream."
He barely stopped an irreverent laugh. What he saw upon her face arrested it.
"It is," she whispered, her voice sounding strangely hollow, as though some great physical change had taken place within. "I described its features to you that night, and now you may see them. We--we are standing in the same position!" she burst forth more eagerly, as if the fact had but that moment occurred to her. "See! I was here, you on that side me, as you are now; here was the small round dark table close to us; there is the large window, with the ironing-board underneath it; there, to the left, are the dresser and the shelves, and even the very plates and dishes upon them--"
"Of the precise willow pattern," put in Mr. Lake.
"There, behind us, is the fireplace; and around are the several doors, in the very self-same places that I saw them," she continued, too eager to notice or heed the mocking interruption. "I told, you it looked like a farm-house kitchen, large and bleak: you may see that it does, now."
"I shall begin to think that you are dreaming still," he returned.
"I wish I was! I wish I had never seen in reality the kitchen of that dream. I did not at the first moment recognise it. When I came in with Mrs. Chester and Mary Jupp, the place struck me as being familiar, and I was just going to say to them, 'I must have been here before,' when my dream flashed upon me, like a chill. I felt awestruck--sick; I feel so yet."
"This beats spirit-rapping," said Mr. Lake. "Let us lay hold of the table, and see whether it won't turn."
"Why will you turn it into mockery?" she resumed, her tone one of sharp pain. "You know that dream seemed to foretel my death."
"I declare to goodness, Clara, you will make me angry!" was his retort, his voice changing to severity. "What has come over you these last few days?"