A DREAM AND A REALITY.

I HAVE always liked the Professor; and I was therefore pleased, when, during the past summer, I happened to meet him at a certain well-known boarding-place in Sandwich, at the very foot of Whiteface, with Kiarsarge and Cho-corua to the east, and Passaconaway north-west ward. I enjoyed a great many rambles in his company, especially the one week that there were no young people there except myself, when he took pity on my loneliness; and one day in particular I remember for the strange story he told me. We had started early in the morning on a tramp of some twelve miles to the falls of the Bearcamp at Ossipee; and it was while we were resting after our noon luncheon, within sight and sound of that picturesque cascade, that, in the course of a casual conversation, we somehow or other got to talking about dreams.

"I do not think," he said, "that psychology will ever fully account for this matter of dreams. I once had so strange an one, fulfilled in so strange a way - I hardly know how to begin my story; and perhaps after all I should only weary you.

"I was a young man when these events took place, staying at a sea-side hotel, it matters not where. In fact, it was during the vacation preceding my Senior year at college. I was then, perhaps, like many other young men, inclined to enjoy the society of the ladies. There were some threescore people, young and old, at the hotel, - in general, a very pleasant company. I had been there but a few days before I became more than ordinarily interested in two of the guests, a father and daughter. You may think it was wholly the latter; but I can assure you that Mr. Carlin was an extraordinary man. His personal appearance everywhere attracted attention. He was tall and well formed, a young man in physique and bearing; but his hair and beard were almost snow-white, and he was nearly blind, wearing goggles to protect what little eyesight he had left. Had it not been for these peculiarities, which in nowise corresponded with the rest of his face, he would have been a remarkably handsome man. His daughter Bertha did not at all resemble him; yet she was a very pretty girl, though hers was not a face that expressed much piquancy or force of character. We soon became acquainted with each other in the easy, friendly way that the intercourse of a summer hotel is wont to bring about, and I began to like her very well indeed; and soon found that, if she were not a wonderfully bright woman, she was really a charming girl.

"The hotel boasted long double balconies on three sides of the house, looking seaward. One evening Bertha and I had been sitting side by side upon the lower balcony rather later than usual; the majority of the guests were within doors. It was bright moonlight, and the sea, scarcely ruffled by the wind, lay like a mirror before us. I suppose I felt a little sentimental - naturally enough.

"When she rose suddenly, exclaiming about the lateness of the hour, I took her hand a moment, - I suppose we had drawn very near together during that moonlight interview, - and held it in mine somewhat longer than the occasion demanded, perhaps. She did not withdraw it, but looked at me shyly through the loveliest blue eyes I had ever seen (so I thought then) and was altogether so bewitchingly pretty, that I - quickly stooped and kissed her. She left me suddenly enough, then; but I could not tell whether I had offended her or not. I thought not. You may laugh as much as you choose, young friend, but you would probably have done the same.

"As she was disappearing up the stairs, her father came out of the office, and, without appearing to notice me, followed after. I confess I was somewhat taken aback: the office windows opened on the front balcony, and it was not improbable that he might have witnessed the some what startling finale to the evening's comedy. However, it could not be helped. As to his favor or disfavor, he was always a moody, eccentric sort of man, and I had no reason to think that he had ever liked me better than I had liked him.

"I went up to bed and fell asleep almost immediately, and dreamed about Bertha, as you might imagine. I cannot even now recall that dream without a feeling of horror.

"I seemed to be walking down a long hall, that ever opened before me in an endless vista. At last, far off, white and pale, I saw the figure of a woman coming towards me swiftly, terribly, like a ghost; I, coward enough in my dream, tried to turn away from her. I could stir neither hand nor foot. I pray God I may never again experience that feeling of powerless, supernatural terror. She drew nearer and nearer; and I recognized the face of Bertha Carlin. Then suddenly she stopped, pointed backward; the hall disappeared, the broad sea was before me, gleaming under the moon, as I had seen it last.

" 'Go!' she cried, pointing to a little sail-boat far out on the water, gliding through the moon-light; 'if you pity me - if you love me, go there!' Then she vanished.

"I looked at the boat: it was steadily coming nearer - nearer. I then discerned two figures in the stern, a man and a woman. They were talking excitedly; disputing, it seemed. The woman rose to her feet with a scornful little laugh; and then - horrible to think of - her companion gave her a sudden push, and she fell over the side into the water. Overcome with terror as I was, I staggered forward, and felt the cold waves about my feet; and so woke up, and found myself indeed standing half in water on the lonely, moonlit beach.

"Imagine, if you can, the shock that the discovery gave me: it was the first time, to my knowledge, that I had ever been guilty of sleep-walking. I could hardly believe that I was yet awake. I hurried shivering back to the hotel, found the door of my bed-room open; else I might have had some trouble in re-entering it. I wrapped myself up in blankets, and tried to collect my scattered senses.

"I might have regarded all this as a mere nightmare, had it not been for the terrible interpretation that followed."

The Professor paused a moment, pulling a leaf to pieces in a nervous and abstracted way; while I restrained my curiosity as best I might, and waited for the sequel.