Late, one night, when the lights were growing dim, so as hardly
to betray the stain on the poor wife's cheek, she herself, for the
first time, voluntarily took up the subject.
"Do you remember, my dear Aylmer," said she, with a feeble
attempt at a smile- "have you any recollection of a dream, last night,
about this odious Hand?"
"None! none whatever!" replied Aylmer, starting; but then he
added in a dry, cold tone, affected for the sake of concealing the
real depth of his emotion: "I might well dream of it; for, before I
fell asleep, it had taken a pretty firm hold of my fancy."
"And you did dream of it," continued Georgiana, hastily; for she
dreaded lest a gush of tears should interrupt what she had to say-
"A terrible dream! I wonder that you can forget it. Is it possible
to forget this one expression? 'It is in her heart now- we must have
it out!' Reflect, my husband; for by all means I would have you recall
that dream."
The mind is in a sad state, when Sleep, the all-involving, cannot
confine her spectres within the dim region of her sway, but suffers
them to break forth, affrighting this actual life with secrets that
perchance belong to a deeper one. Aylmer now remembered his dream.
He had fancied himself, with his servant Aminadab, attempting an
operation for the removal of the birthmark.
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