eam. Dreams are vague things, and this one had the defects of
its species; but it was somehow concerned with the image of a young
lady whom Bernard had formerly known, and who had beautiful eyes, into
which--in the dream--he found himself looking. He waked up to find
himself looking into the crown of his hat, which had been resting on the
bridge of his nose. He removed it, and half raised himself, resting on
his elbow and preparing to taste, in another position, of a little more
of that exquisite rest of which mention has just been made. The world
about him was still amusing and charming; the chatter of his companions,
losing itself in the large sea-presence, the plash of the divers and
swimmers, the deep blue of the ocean and the silvery white of the cliff,
had that striking air of indifference to the fact that his mind had been
absent from them which we are apt to find in mundane things on emerging
from a nap. The same people were sitting near him on the beach--the
same, and yet not quite the same. He found himself noticing a person
whom he had not noticed before--a young lady, who was seated in a low
portable chair, some dozen yards off, with her eyes bent upon a book.
Her head was in shade; her large parasol made, indeed, an awning for
her whole person, which in this way, in the quiet attitude of perusal,
seemed to abstract itself from the glare and murmur of the beach. The
clear shadow of her umbrella--it was lined with blue--was deep upon her
face; but it was not deep enough to prevent Bernard from recognizing
a profile that he knew. He suddenly sat upright, with an intensely
quickened vision. Was he dreaming still, or had he waked? In a moment he
felt that he was acutely awake; he heard her, across the interval, turn
the page of her book. For a single instant, as she did so, she looked
with level brows at the glittering ocean; then, lowering her eyes, she
went on with her reading. In this barely perceptible movement he saw
Angela Vivian; it was wonderful how well he remembered her. She was
evidently reading very seriously; she was much interested in her book.
She was alone; Bernard looked about for her mother, but Mrs. Vivian
was not in sight. By this time Bernard had become aware that he was
agitated; the exquisite rest of a few moments before had passed away.
His agitation struck him as unreasonable; in a few minutes he made up
his mind that it was absurd. He had done her an injury--yes; but as she
sat there losi