He raised
himself up upon his elbow, and looking round to see that we were
alone, he beckoned to me to come and sit beside him.
"You saw it, didn't you?" he asked, still in the same subdued
awesome tone so foreign to the nature of the man.
"No, I saw nothing."
His head sank back again upon the cushions. "No, he wouldn't
without the glass," he murmured. "He couldn't. It was the glass
that showed her to me, and then the eyes of love--the eyes of love.
I say, Doc, don't let the steward in! He'll think I'm mad. Just
bolt the door, will you!"
I rose and did what he had commanded.
He lay quiet for a while, lost in thought apparently, and then
raised himself up upon his elbow again, and asked for some more
brandy.
"You don't think I am, do you, Doc?" he asked, as I was putting the
bottle back into the after-locker. "Tell me now, as man to man, do
you think that I am mad?"
"I think you have something on your mind," I answered, "which is
exciting you and doing you a good deal of harm."
"Right there, lad!" he cried, his eyes sparkling from the effects
of the brandy. "Plenty on my mind--plenty! But I can work out the
latitude and the longitude, and I can handle my sextant and manage
my logarithms. You couldn't prove me mad in a court of law, could
you, now?" It was curious to hear the man lying back and coolly
arguing out the question of his own sanity.
"Perhaps not," I said; "but still I think you would be wise to get
home as soon as you can, and settle down to a quiet life for a
while.
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