"It is time to awaken, Daniel," she said.
He was upon his feet in an instant. There was a strange expression
upon his face.
"I was far away from here," he said. "I was dreaming, the bulliest
sort of a dream."
"Dreaming? And what about, pray?"
"You."
"You were! Tell me the dream."
"They say dreams that are told never come true," replied Dan, slowly.
Their eyes met. Both were smiling. Then her eyes fell; but she still
smiled.
"Then," she said, "I guess you had better not tell me--unless--"
"Unless?" asked Dan, as she paused.
Slowly she arranged the blankets, while Dan waited for the completion
of the sentence. Then she lay down.
"Good-night," she said.
When she awoke, the sun was rising high. The breeze had died away.
The wheel was deserted. She looked down the stretch of deck, but Dan
was nowhere to be seen. With a fluttering heart she arose and shook
out her skirts, hardly daring to peer into the cabin for fear her
dreadful intimations might prove true.
He was not in the cabin. She called his name in a low voice, but only
the hollow echo resounded from the corridor. In agonized suspense now
she ran out on the deck.
"Dan!" she called with all the power of her lungs, not expecting that
he would hear her now. "Dan Merrithew, have you left me?"
There came an answering hail, and looking toward the bow she saw Dan
clambering out of the forward hatch.
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