scroll.

"What is this," continued he, pulling it off and examining it. "And
Amine, where is she? Good Heavens, what a dream! Another?" cried he,
perceiving the scroll tied to his arm. "I see it now. Amine, this is
your doing." And Philip threw himself down, and buried his face in the
pillow.

Amine, in the mean time, had slipped into bed, and had taken her place
by Philip's side. "Sleep, Philip, dear: sleep!" said she, putting her
arms round him; "we will talk when we wake again."

"Are you there, Amine?" replied Philip, confused. "I thought I was
alone; I have dreamed." And Philip again was fast asleep before he
could complete his sentence. Amine, too, tired with watching,
slumbered, and was happy.

Father Mathias had to wait a long while for his breakfast that morning;
it was not till two hours later than usual that Philip and Amine made
their appearance.

"Welcome my children," said he; "you are late."

"We are, Father," replied Amine; "for Philip slept, and I watched till
break of day."

"He hath not been ill, I trust," replied the priest.

"No not ill; but I could not sleep," replied Amine.

"Then didst thou do well to pass the night--as I doubt not thou hast
done, my child, in holy watchings."

Philip shuddered; he knew that the watching, had its cause been known,
would have been, in the priest's opinion, anything but holy. Amine
quickly replied--

"I have, indeed, communed with higher powers, as far as my poor
intellect hath been able."

"The blessing of our holy Church upon thee, my child!" said the old man,
putting his hand upon her head; "and on thee, too, Philip."

Philip, confused, sat down to the table; Amine was collected as ever.
She spoke little, it is true, and appeared to commune with her own
thoughts.

As soon as the repast was finished, the old priest took up his breviary,
and Amine beckoning to Philip, they went out together. They walked in
silence until they arrived at the green spot where Amine had first
proposed to him that she should use her mystic power. She sat sown, an
Philip, fully aware of her purpose, took his seat by her in silence.

"Philip," said Amine, taking his hand, and looking earnestly in his
face, "last night you dreamed."

"I did indeed, Amine," replied Philip, gravely.

"Tell me your dream, for it will be for me to expound it."

"I fear it needs but little exposition, Amine. All I would know is,
from what intelligence the dream has been re