“None. I can compare it to nothing better than a dim light stealing across the wall of a dark room and disappearing.”
Mr. Sherman was silent; and presently said:
“What do you propose to do when you reach Sydney?”
“I have often thought of that. I must seek work and wait.”
“Wait until your memory returns?”
“Yes.”
“The captain and I were talking about you just now, and I suggested that, were you to return to England, which I am persuaded is your native country, you might come across a friend who would give you your memory back at once; or failing such a friend, you might encounter some scene which would achieve the same end.”
“I don’t think I could bear another long voyage just yet,” answered Holdsworth, glancing at the sea. “What should make the water so hateful to me? Sometimes I fancy I must have passed many years upon it, and that it has served me badly.”
“Oh, your dislike is easily understood. But now with regard to your prospects. Will it be wise for you to remain in Australia? You must have friends at home—supposing England to be your home.”
“But how shall I find them?”