I am sunk in heavy sleep, and wake only very gradually, to find her, in conformity with her engagements, giving my shoulder reluctant and gentle pushes, and softly calling me.
"Is it five ?" say I, sitting up and yawning.

Then as the recollection of my position flashes across my mind, "I will _not_ be married!" I cry, turning round, and burying all my face in my pillow again.

"Nobody shall induce me! Let some one go and tell Sir Roger so." "Sir Roger is not awake," replied Barbara, laughing rather sleepily, "you forget that." And by the time he is awake, I have come to a saner mind.

We dress, for the last time, _alike_.

The thought that never again shall I have a holland frock like Barbara's is nearly too much for us both.