Barbara thought it strange that Anthony should have imagined so splendid a thing.

And yet why should he not have done so?
If she could picture it in her own mind, why should he not be able to originate it in his.
She told him all this, only avoiding allusions to the child, the baby Barbara whom they had lost.

For of this child, although she longed to ask him details as to her supposed appearance, she could not bring herself to speak.

Supposing that he were right, supposing that their daughter was really growing up yonder towards some celestial womanhood, and waiting for him and waiting for her, the mother upon whose breast she had lain, the poor, bereaved mother.

Oh! then would not all be worth while?
Anthony listened and said that he agreed with her; as a lawyer he had analysed the dream and found in it nothing at all.