Ever the same, whether sunk in repose or awake and staring out at the blurred landscape, there was Fenella, with her great eyes, silently calling him to her feet.
Yes, all dreamlike—visionary—of a great station, of a short journey through the great city, then of the rail once more, and then of the steamer calmly gliding down Southampton Water. The lights here and there, then the darkness and the cool, soft, light breeze fanning his burning temples, as he leaned over the bulwarks forward with fixed eyes, waiting for the morning and the first glimpse of the sunny island which he loved.
Always confused and dreamlike, but there were memories of the dancing waters, of dimly seen white rocks, and of a great blaze of light flashing out at intervals with electric glare, and seeming to sweep the sea. Then a long, long period of darkness in a rough, tossing sea, whose cool spray ever dashed in his face, and at last a pale pearly gray, changing to a warm glow; then broad sunshine, and at last the rocky islets and his destination looking a very paradise set in the deep blue sea.
The sight of the island gave him hope, and his brain cleared for the time. He saw Fenella placing her hands in his, eager to follow him to their child, and for one moment he closed his eyes and clung fast to the vessel’s side, for there was a sensation of joy that turned him giddy. It seemed greater than he could bear.
The port at last and the tedious landing, for it was low water, but he sprang down into the first boat that came alongside, and feeling calmer now, he landed, but, as he stepped ashore, staggered and nearly fell.
A curious feeling of irritation came over him as he saw a man smile, and he turned upon him resentfully.
“Don’t be cross, sir,” said the man. “You’re not the first who has felt dizzy after being seasick. You’ll be all right after breakfast.”
“Breakfast!” The man’s words rang in his ears and he remembered that it was many hours since anything had passed his lips. But he thought no more of his growing weakness, and had himself driven to the rose-hung cottage where Fenella was waiting for him with outstretched hands.
How long the time seemed, and how misty and dim everything looked. The sun shone brilliantly, but there was a something pressing, as it were, upon his brain, a strange pain too at his heart, and that feeling of faintness which seemed to overcome him from time to time.
At last! The cottage where he had left her—his darling—yes, the only woman he had ever loved; and he sat up eager to spring out—to tell her that his mission had been faithfully performed. But he had to avail himself of the driver’s arm and totter up to the door, his eyes wildly searching the window for Fenella’s face.