we might fancy
ourselves ashore."
"Neither," he answered. "The smoking-room is stuffy, and my dancing days
are over. No; I proposed to take exercise after that big dinner, and
then to sit in a chair and fall asleep. But," he added, and his voice
grew interested, "how did you know that it was I? You never turned your
head."
"I have ears in my head as well as eyes," she answered with a little
laugh, "and after we have been nearly a month together on this ship I
ought to know your step."
"I never remember that anyone ever recognized it before," he said, more
to himself than to her, then came and leaned over the rail at her side.
His doubts were gone. Fate had spoken.
For a while there was silence between them, then he asked her if she
were not going to the dance.
Benita shook her head.
"Why not? You are fond of dancing, and you dance very well. Also there
are plenty of officers for partners, especially Captain----" and he
checked himself.
"I know," she said; "it would be pleasant, but--Mr. Seymour, will you
think me foolish if I tell you something?"
"I have never thought you foolish yet, Miss Clifford, so I don't know
why I should begin now. What is it?"
"I am not going to the dance because I am afraid, yes, horribly afraid."
"Afraid! Afraid of what?"
"I don't quite know, but, Mr. Seymour, I feel as though we were all
of us upon the edge of some dreadful catastrophe--as though there were
about to be a mighty change, and beyond it another life, something
new and unfamiliar. It came over me at dinner--that was why I left the
table. Quite suddenly I looked, and all the people were different, yes,
all except a few."
"Was I different?" he asked curiously.
"No, you were not," and he thought he heard her add "Thank God!" beneath
her breath.
"And were you different?"
"I don't know. I never looked at myself; I was the seer, not the seen. I
have always been like that."
"Indigestion," he said reflectively. "We eat too much on board ship,
and the dinner was very long and heavy. I told you so, that's why I'm
taking--I mean why I wanted to take exercise."
"And to go to sleep afterwards."
"Yes, first the exercise, then the sleep. Miss Clifford, that is the
rule of life--and death. With sleep thought ends, therefore for some of
us your catastrophe is much to be desired, for it would mean long sleep
and no thought."
"I said that they were changed, not that they had ceased to think.
Perhaps the
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