"I can't tell it yet," returned Allan. "Wait a little till I'm my own man again."They took another turn on the deck. Midwinter stopped, and spoke once more.
"Look at me for a moment, Allan," he said.
There was something of the trouble left by the dream, and something of natural surprise at the strange request just addressed to him, in Allan's face, as he turned it full on the speaker; but no shadow of ill-will, no lurking lines of distrust anywhere. Midwinter turned aside quickly, and hid, as he best might, an irrepressible outburst of relief.
"Do I look a little upset?" asked Allan, taking his arm, and leading him on again. "Don't make yourself nervous about me if Ido. My head feels wild and giddy, but I shall soon get over it."For the next few minutes they walked backward and forward in silence, the one bent on dismissing the terror of the dream from his thoughts, the other bent on discovering what the terror of the dream might be. Relieved of the dread that had oppressed it, the superstitious nature of Midwinter had leaped to its next conclusion at a bound. What if the sleeper had been visited by another revelation than the revelation of the Past? What if the dream had opened those unturned pages in the book of the Future which told the story of his life to come? The bare doubt that it might be so strengthened tenfold Midwinter's longing to penetrate the mystery which Allan's silence still kept a secret from him.
"Is your head more composed?" he asked. "Can you tell me your dream now?"While he put the question, a last memorable moment in the Adventure of the Wreck was at hand.
They had reached the stern, and were just turning again when Midwinter spoke. As Allan opened his lips to answer, he looked out mechanically to sea. Instead of replying, he suddenly ran to the taffrail, and waved his hat over his head, with a shout of exultation.
Midwinter joined him, and saw a large six-oared boat pulling straight for the channel of the Sound. A figure, which they both thought they recognized, rose eagerly in the stern-sheets and returned the waving of Allan's hat. The boat came nearer, the steersman called to them cheerfully, and they recognized the doctor's voice.
"Thank God you're both above water!" said Mr. Hawbury, as they met him on the deck of the timber-ship. "Of all the winds of heaven, which wind blew you here?"He looked at Midwinter as he made the inquiry, but it was Allan who told him the story of the night, and Allan who asked the doctor for information in return. The one absorbing interest in Midwinter's mind--the interest of penetrating the mystery of the dream--kept him silent throughout. Heedless of all that was said or done about him, he watched Allan, and followed Allan, like a dog, until the time came for getting down into the boat. Mr.
Hawbury's professional eye rested on him curiously, noting his varying color, and the incessant restlessness of his hands. "Iwouldn't change nervous systems with that man for the largest fortune that could be offered me," thought the doctor as he took the boat's t iller, and gave the oarsmen their order to push off from the wreck.
