Uncle William pushed up his spectacles and peered. “I don’t seem to see anybody,” he said truthfully. He was gazing with some painstaking in the opposite direction. “Not there. Look!--She’s gone!” He sank back with a sigh. “Somebody you knew, like enough?” The question was indifferent. “I thought it was--her.” “She, now! She wouldn’t be likely to be down here this time o’ day.” “No, I suppose not. It was just a fancy.” “That’s all. You comf’tabul?” “Yes--” a little impatiently. “That’s good. Now we’re off.” Uncle William beamed on the water that billowed before and behind. He went off to find the captain. When he came back, the young man had ceased to look toward the shore. “I made a mistake,” he said regretfully. “That’s nateral,” said Uncle William. “I s’pose you’ve been thinkin’ of her, off and on, and you jest thought you saw her. I wouldn’t think any--” “It wasn’t that,” the young man broke in. “I _did_ see her. I know now. I saw her face for a minute as plain as I see yours. She was looking straight at me and I saw all of a sudden what a fool I was.” “You’re getting better,” said Uncle William. “Do you think so? I was afraid--” he hesitated. “You thought mebbe you was a-goin’ to die?” “Well--I have heard that people see clearly--It came over me in a flash so--” “Lord, no!” Uncle William chuckled. “You’re jest gettin’ your wits back, that’s all. I shouldn’t wonder if you’d be real pert by the time we get there. I cal’ate you’ll be considabul help to me--dish-washin’ an’ so on.” The towers and chimneys behind them dwindled. The smoke of the city faded to a blur and grew to clear azure. The wind blew against their faces. After a little the young man got to his feet. “I’m going to walk awhile.” He spoke defiantly. “Walk right along,” said Uncle William, cheerfully. He tottered a few steps, and held out his hand. Uncle William chuckled. “I reckoned you’d want a lift.” He placed a strong hand under the young man’s arm. They paced back and forth the length of the deck. “Feel good?” asked Uncle William. The young man nodded. “I shall go alone to-morrow.” “Yes, I reckon you will,” soothingly. “And the further north we get, the better you’ll feel. It’s cur’us about the North. The’ ’s suthin’ up there keeps drawin’ you like a needle. I’ve known a man to be cured jut by turnin’ and sailin’ that way when he was sick. Seem ’s if he stopped pullin’ against things and just let go. You look to me a little mite tired. I’d go below for a spell if I was you.” The young man went below and slept. When he woke he felt better, as Uncle William had predicted. At Halifax he insisted on sending a telegram to Sergia. After that he watched the water with gleaming face, and when they boarded the _John L. Cann_ and the shores of Arichat shaped themselves out of space, he was like a boy. Uncle William leaned forward, scanning the wharf. “There’s Andy!” he exclaimed. “Where?” “Right there. Don’t you see him--dangling his legs over the edge?”