"Nor is that the only occasion on which imagination has played me a trick. One night, when I came home late from market, I walked into the cottage parlour thinking to find Hortense; but instead of her I thought I found you. There was no candle in the room; my sister had taken the light upstairs with her. The window-blind was not drawn, and broad moonbeams poured through the panes. There you were, Lina, at the casement, shrinking a little to one side in an attitude not unusual with you. You were dressed in white, as I have seen you dressed at an evening party. For half a second your fresh, living face seemed turned towards me, looking at me; for half a second my idea was to go and take your hand, to chide you for your long absence, and welcome your present visit. Two steps forward broke the spell. The drapery of the dress changed outline; the tints of the complexion dissolved, and were formless. Positively, as I reached the spot, there was nothing left but the sweep of a white muslin curtain, and a balsam plant in a flower-pot, covered with a flush of bloom. 'Sic transit,' et cetera."
"It was not my wraith, then? I almost thought it was."
"No; only gauze, crockery, and pink blossom—a sample of earthly illusions."
"I wonder you have time for such illusions, occupied as your mind must be."
"So do I. But I find in myself, Lina, two natures—one for the world and business, and one for home and leisure. Gérard Moore is a hard dog, brought up to mill and market; the person you call your cousin Robert is sometimes a dreamer, who lives elsewhere than in Cloth-hall and counting-house."
"Your two natures agree with you. I think you are looking in good spirits and health. You have quite lost that harassed air which it often pained one to see in your face a few months ago."
"Do you observe that? Certainly I am disentangled of some difficulties. I have got clear of some shoals, and have more sea-room."
"And, with a fair wind, you may now hope to make a prosperous voyage?"
"I may hope it—yes—but hope is deceptive. There is no controlling wind or wave. Gusts and swells perpetually trouble the mariner's course; he dare not dismiss from his mind the expectation of tempest."
"But you are ready for a breeze; you are a good seaman, an able commander. You are a skilful pilot, Robert; you will weather the storm."