"Why, then," cried I, amazed, "my dream was true. They have marched across country on Carthagena—"
"Yes, Martin, but what dream—?"
"With four guns, mounted on wheels?"
"Yes, Martin; they built four gun-carriages to Adam's design. But what of your dream?"
So I told her of Atlamatzin and the visions I had beheld; "and I saw you also, my loved Joan; aye, as I do remember, you knelt on the deck above, praying and with your arms reached out—"
"Why, so I did often—one night in especial, I remember, weeping and calling to you, for I was very fearful and—lonely, dear Martin. And that night, I remember, I dreamed I saw you, your back leaned to a great rock as you were very weary, and staring into a fire, sad-eyed and desolate. Across your knees was your gun and all around you a dark and dismal forest, and I yearned to come to you and could not, and so watched and lay to weep anew.—Oh, dear, loved Martin!"
Here she turned, her eyes dark with remembered sorrow, wherefore I took and lifted her to my knee, holding her thus close upon my heart.
"Tell me," said I after some while, "when Adam marched on his desperate venture, did he name any day for his likely return?"
"Yes, Martin!"
"And when was that?"