Thence it took a sudden turn; and the water and the open country became both lost to view. Allan steadily followed the grassy track before him, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, until he came to another winding of the path. Turning in the new direction, he saw dimly a human figure sitting alone at the foot of one of the trees. Two steps nearer were enough to make the figure familiar to him. "Midwinter!" he exclaimed, in astonishment. "This is not the place where I was to meet you!
What are you waiting for here?"
Midwinter rose, without answering. The evening dimness among the trees, which obscured his face, made his silence doubly perplexing.
Allan went on eagerly questioning him. "Did you come here by yourself?" he asked. "I thought the boy was to guide you?"This time Midwinter answered. "When we got as far as these trees," he said, "I sent the boy back. He told me I was close to the place, and couldn't miss it.""What made you stop here when he left you?" reiterated Allan.
"Why didn't you walk on?"
"Don't despise me," answered the other. "I hadn't the courage!""Not the courage?" repeated Allan. He paused a moment. "Oh, Iknow!" he resumed, putting his hand gayly on Midwinter's shoulder. "You're still shy of the Milroys. What nonsense, when Itold you myself that your peace was made at the cottage!""I wasn't thinking, Allan, of your friends at the cottage. The truth is, I'm hardly myself to-day. I am ill and unnerved;trifles startle me." He stopped, and shrank away, under the anxious scrutiny of Allan's eyes. "If you _will_ have it," he burst out, abruptly, "the horror of that night on board the Wreck has got me again; there's a dreadful op pression on my head;there's a dreadful sinking at my heart. I am afraid of something happening to us, if we don't part before the day is out. I can't break my promise to you; for God's sake, release me from it, and let me go back!"Remonstrance, to any one who knew Midwinter, was plainly useless at that moment. Allan humored him. "Come out of this dark, airless place," he said, "and we will talk about it. The water and the open sky are within a stone's throw of us. I hate a wood in the evening; it even gives _me_ the horrors. You have been working too hard over the steward's books. Come and breathe freely in the blessed open air."Midwinter stopped, considered for a moment, and suddenly submitted.
"You're right," he said, "and I'm wrong, as usual. I'm wasting time and distressing you to no purpose. What folly to ask you to let me go back! Suppose you had said yes?""Well?" asked Allan.
"Well," repeated Midwinter, "something would have happened at the first step to stop me, that's all. Come on."They walked together in silence on the way to the Mere.
At the last turn in the path Allan's cigar went out. While he stopped to light it again, Midwinter walked on before him, and was the first to come in sight of the open ground.
Allan had just kindled the match, when, to his surprise, his friend came back to him round the turn in the path. There was light enough to show objects more clearly in this part of the plantation. The match, as Midwinter faced him, dropped on the instant from Allan's hand.
"Good God!" he cried, starting back, "you look as you looked on board the Wreck!"Midwinter held up his band for silence. He spoke with his wild eyes riveted on Allan's face, with his white lips close at Allan's ear.
"You remember how I _looked,_" he answered, in a whisper. "Do you remember what I _said_ when you and the doctor were talking of the Dream?""I have forgotten the Dream," said Allan.
As he made that answer, Midwinter took his hand, and led him round the last turn in the path.
"Do you remember it now?" he asked, and pointed to the Mere.