... Every year you've thought of me less--that doesn't
matter--but it matters more than you know that you should remember me
just for an instant, just to say good-bye. Will you promise me?"
"Why, of course," said John.
"Don't forget! Don't forget! Don't forget!" And the kindly shadow had
faded, the voice lingering about the room, mingling with the faint
silver moonlight, passing out into the wider spaciousness of the rolling
clouds.
III
With the clear light of morning came the confident certainty that it had
all been the merest dream, and yet that certainty did not sweep the
affair, as it should have done, from young John's brain and heart. He
was puzzled, perplexed, disturbed, unhappy. The "twenty-third" was
approaching with terrible rapidity, and it was essential now that he
should summon to aid all the forces of manly self-control and
common-sense. And yet, just at this time, of all others, came that
disturbing dream, and, in its train, absurd memories and fancies,
burdened, too, with an urgent prompting of gratitude to some one or
something. He shook it off, he obstinately rebelled, but he dreaded the
night, and, with a sigh of relief, hailed the morning that followed a
dreamless sleep.
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