The quiet in the house, and the low murmuring hum of summer insects outside the open window, soothed me. My eyes closed of themselves, and I passed gradually into a strange condition, which was not waking⁠—for I knew nothing of what was going on about me, and not sleeping⁠—for I was conscious of my own repose. In this state my fevered mind broke loose from me, while my weary body was at rest, and in a trance, or daydream of my fancy⁠—I know not what to call it⁠—I saw Walter Hartright. I had not thought of him since I rose that morning⁠—Laura had not said one word to me either directly or indirectly referring to him⁠—and yet I saw him now as plainly as if the past time had returned, and we were both together again at Limmeridge House.