Presently, however, when my faculties became fully awake and in working order, I realized that I feared, half expected, that Aunt Janet would come to me in a worse state of alarm than ever apropos of some new Second-Sight experience of more than usual ferocity.
But, strange to say, I had no such visit.

Later on in the morning, when, after breakfast, we walked together through the garden, I asked her how she had slept, and if she had dreamt.

She answered me that she had slept without waking, and if she had had any dreams, they must have been pleasant ones, for she did not remember them.

"And you know, Rupert," she added, "that if there be anything bad or fearsome or warning in dreams, I always remember them." Later still, when I was by myself on the cliff beyond the creek, I could not help commenting on the absence of her power of Second Sight on the occasion.

Surely, if ever there was a time when she might have had cause of apprehension, it might well have been when I asked the Lady whom she did not know to marry me--the Lady of whose identity I knew nothing, even whose name I did not know--whom I loved with all my heart and soul--my Lady of the Shroud.
I have lost faith in Second Sight.
RUPERT'S JOURNAL--_Continued_.
_July_ 1, 1907.
Another week gone.