But haven’t I thought differently of Mackay since, my God...?

* * * * *

Three weeks—­it was about that—­before that Sunday night discourse, I was visited by Clark, the chief of the coming expedition—­a mere visit of friendship.  I had then been established about a year at No.  II, Harley Street, and, though under twenty-five, had, I suppose, as elite a practice as any doctor in Europe.

Elite—­but small.  I was able to maintain my state, and move among the great:  but now and again I would feel the secret pinch of moneylessness.  Just about that time, in fact, I was only saved from considerable embarrassment by the success of my book, ’Applications of Science to the Arts.’

In the course of conversation that afternoon, Clark said to me in his light hap-hazard way: 

’Do you know what I dreamed about you last night, Adam Jeffson?  I dreamed that you were with us on the expedition.’

I think he must have seen my start:  on the same night I had myself dreamed the same thing; but not a word said I about it now.  There was a stammer in my tongue when I answered: 

‘Who?  I?—­on the expedition?—­I would not go, if I were asked.’

‘Oh, you would.’

‘I wouldn’t.  You forget that I am about to be married.’

‘Well, we need not discuss the point, as Peters is not going to die,’ said he.  ’Still, if anything did happen to him, you know, it is you I should come straight to, Adam Jeffson.’

‘Clark, you jest,’ I said:  ’I know really very little of astronomy, or magnetic phenomena.  Besides, I am about to be married....’

’But what about your botany, my friend? There’s what we should be wanting from you:  and as for nautical astronomy, poh, a man with your scientific habit would pick all that up in no time.’

’You discuss the matter as gravely as though it were a possibility, Clark,’ I said, smiling.  ’Such a thought would never enter my head:  there is, first of all, my fiancee——­’

’Ah, the all-important Countess, eh?—­Well, but she, as far as I know the lady, would be the first to force you to go.  The chance of stamping one’s foot on the North Pole does not occur to a man every day, my son.’

‘Do talk of something else!’ I said.  ‘There is Peters....’

’Well, of course, there is Peters.  But believe me, the dream I had was so clear——­’

‘Let me alone with your dreams, and your Poles!’ I laughed.

Yes, I remember:  I pretended to laugh loud!  But my secret heart knew, even then, that one of those crises was occurring in my life which, from my youth, has made it the most extraordinary which any creature of earth ever lived.  And I knew that this was so, firstly, because of the two dreams, and secondly, because, when Clark was gone, and I was drawing on my gloves to go to see my fiancee, I heard distinctly the old two Voices talk within me:  and One said:  ‘Go not to see her now!’ and the Other:  ‘Yes, go, go!’