"Caroline," said Charles, "I have had some very odd dreams since have been at Tappington."
"Dreams, have you?" smiled the young lady, arching her taper neck like a swan in pluming. "Dreams, have you?"
"Ay, dreams,—or dream, perhaps, I should say; for, though repeated, it was still the same. And what do you imagine was its subject?"
"It is impossible for me to divine," said the tongue; "I have not the least difficulty in guessing," said the eye, as plainly as ever eye spoke.
"I dreamt of—your great grandfather!"
There was a change in the glance—"My great grandfather?"
"Yes, the old Sir Giles, or Sir John, you told me about the other day: he walked into my bedroom in his short cloak of murrey-coloured velvet, his long rapier, and his Ralegh-looking hat and feather, just as this picture represents him; but with one exception."
"And what was that?"
"Why, his lower extremities, which were visible, were—those of a skeleton."
"Well!"