ale. So deeply
burnt into my brain had been the picture I had imagined of Winnie
dead and in a pauper's grave that even now, with Winnie in my arms,
it all came to me, and I seemed to see her lying in a pauper's
shroud, and being restored to life, and I said to her, 'Did you
observe--did you observe your dress, Winnie?'

She answered my question by a little laugh. 'Did I observe my dress
at such a moment? Well, I knew you could be satirical on my sex when
you are in the mood, but, Henry, there are moments, I assure you,
when the first thing a woman observes is not her dress, and this was
one. Afterwards I did observe it, and I can tell you what it was. It
was a walking-dress. Perhaps,' said she, with a smile, 'perhaps you
would like to know the material? But really I have forgotten that.'
'Pardon my idle question, Winnie--pray go on. I will interrupt you no
more.'

'Oh, you will interrupt me no more! We shall see. The gentleman then
led me through a passage of some length.'

'Do describe it!'

'I felt quite sure you would interrupt me no more. Well! The dim
light in the windows made me guess I was in an old house, and from
the sweet smell of hay and wild-flowers I thought we were near the
Wilderness, at Raxton. I could only imagine that I had fallen
insensible on the sands and been taken to Raxton Hall.'

'Ah! that's where you ought to have been taken.' I could not help
exclaiming.

'Surely not,' said Winnie.

'Why?'

'Your mother! But why have you turned so angry?'

In spite of all that I had lately witnessed of my mother's sufferings
from remorse, in spite of all the deep and genuine pity that those
sufferings had drawn from me, Winnie's words struck deeper than any
pity for any creature but herself, and for a moment my soul rose
against my mother again.

'Go on, Winnie, pray go on,' I said.

'You _will_ make me talk about myself,' said Winifred, 'when I so
much want to hear all about you. This is what I call the
self-indulgence of love. Well, then, the gentleman and I mounted some
steps and then we entered a tapestried room. The windows--they were
quaint and old-fashioned casements--were open, and the sunlight was
pouring through them. I then saw at once that I was not anywhere near
Raxton. Besides, there was no sea-smell mixed with the perfumes of
the flowers and the songs of the birds. That I was not near Raxton,
very much amazed me, you may be sure. And then the room was so new to
me and so strang