'That's very strange! I cannot make it out.'
'It's my secret. But if you will not mock at me, I'll explain it: I can't do it distinctly; but I'll give you a feeling of how I feel.'
She seated herself by me again: her countenance grew sadder and graver, and her clasped hands trembled.
'Nelly, do you never dream queer dreams?' she said, suddenly, after some minutes' reflection.
'Yes, now and then,' I answered.
'And so do I. I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind. And this is one: I'm going to tell it--but take care not to smile at any part of it.'
'Oh! don't, Miss Catherine!' I cried. 'We're dismal enough without conjuring up ghosts and visio
