Mr. Harland turned upon him quickly.
"Well, there are no winds belonging to other worlds that will ever disturb OUR atmosphere,"—he said—"Come, come, Derrick, you don't think that yacht is a ghost, do you?—a sort of 'Flying Dutchman' spectre?"
Captain Derrick smiled broadly.
"No, sir—I don't! There's flesh and blood aboard—I've seen the men hauling down canvas, and I know that. But the way she sailed in bothers me."
"All that electric light is rather ostentatious,"—said Dr. Brayle—"I suppose the owner wants to advertise his riches."
"That doesn't follow," said Mr. Harland, with some sharpness—"I grant you we live in an advertising age, but I don't fancy the owner of that vessel is a Pill or a Plaster or even a Special Tea. He may want to amuse himself—it may be the birthday of his wife or one of his and a warm atmosphere of peace and comfort came over me when at last I lay down in my luxurious bed, and slipped away into the land of sleep. Ah, what a land it is, that magic Land of Sleep!—a land 'shadowing with wings,' where amid many shifting and shimmering wonders of darkness and light, the Palace of Vision stands uplifted, stately and beautiful, with golden doors set open to the wanderer! I made my entrance there that night;—often and often as I had been within its enchanted precincts before, there were a million halls of marvel as yet unvisited,—and among these I found myself,—under a dome which seemed of purest crystal lit with fire,—listening to One invisible, who,—speaking as from a great height, discoursed to me of Love."
III
THE ANGEL OF A DREAM
The Voice that spoke to me was silvery clear, and fell as it were through the air, dividing space with sweetness. It was soft and resonant, and the thrill of tenderness within it was as though an angel sang through tears. Never had I heard anything so divinely pure and compassionate,—and all my being strove to lift itself towards that supernal height which seemed to be the hidden source of its melodious utterance.
"O Soul, wandering in the region of sleep and dreams!" said the Voice,—"What is all thy searching and labour worth without Love? Why art thou lost in a Silence without Song?"