The wind had veered around to the west-nor-west. It had materially abated in violence, but was still unfavorable for our navigators. And, in truth, the Doctor was not nearly so anxious to depart at this time as was Professor Gray. The good Doctor's mind was divided between a desire to be off for the Arctics, and a professional interest in, and friendly solicitude for, the beautiful Feodora. Nothing could exceed the delight with which he noted the manifest curative power of the dose which he had given her. And he had pledged his word that he would not leave her until material improvement was apparent. So it was with a considerable degree of resignation that he saw the wind continue northerly.
The matter stood about thus between him and Professor Gray: While Dr. Jones was really commander of the expedition, yet the Professor represented the Government's interests, and he kept a strict record of every day's occurrences. These must be subjected to the inspection of the proper authorities upon their return to Washington. The fact that Dr. Jones had interested himself in a sick girl in the heart of Russia, even though she was the only child of a Count who stood high with the Emperor of all the Russias, could not excuse him to his Government for holding in abeyance the mighty interests of the expedition upon which it had projected him.
For two more days the northerly winds prevailed. Then came the hoped-for, yet dreaded, change. At six o'clock in the morning, the Professor rapped upon Dr. Jones' chamber door.
"Come, Doctor," he cried. "Ho! for the North Pole. A glorious breeze from due South."
The Doctor joined him in a few moments, and they walked into the park. The aluminum flag fluttered straight toward the north. The Doctor expressed his delight, but there tugged at his heart the thought of leaving the poor girl who clung to him for her life. But he did not dare to mention this fact to Professor Gray. He knew that no merely sentimental grounds would have any weight with that gentleman, and that he (the Professor) would hold him strictly accountable to the Government for any unnecessary delay.
So, with a sigh, he announced to his party that they would sail as soon after breakfast as possible. The Count looked very much distressed, but said not a word. After breakfast the Doctor and Count repaired to Feodora's room. She had rested beautifully all night, and received them with a glad, smiling welcome. But when Dr. Jones announced that he must sail within two or three hours, her face became exceedingly sorrowful, and she said to him so gently and simply that it touched the hearts of the men more than tears could have ever done:
"And do you know what goes with you in your beautiful Silver Cloud?"
"I do not know that I do. What do you mean?"
"My life."
This unexpected reply caused the Doctor a terrible shock.