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Page 43
Clara looked at Mrs. Crayford.
"You hear?" she said. "It is you who are mistaken, not I. What
you call 'Accident,' what I call 'Fate,' brought Richard Wardour
and Frank together as members of the same Expedition, after all."
Without waiting for a reply, she again turned to Steventon, and
surprised him by changing the painful subject of the conversation
of her own accord.
"Have you been in the Highlands of Scotland?" she asked.
"I have never been in the Highlands," the lieutenant replied.
"Have you ever read, in books about the Highlands, of such a
thing as 'The Second Sight'?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe in the Second Sight?"
Steventon politely declined to commit himself to a direct reply.
"I don't know what I might have done, if I had ever been in the
Highlands," he said. "As it is, I have had no opportunities of
giving the subject any serious consideration."
"I won't put your credulity to the test," Clara proceeded. "I
won't ask you to believe anything more extraordinary than that I
had a strange dream in England not very long since. My dream
showed me what you have just acknowledged--and more than that.
How did the two missing men come to be parted from their
companions? Were they lost by pure accident, or were they
deliberately left behind on the march?"
Crayford made a last vain effort to check her inquiries at the
point which they had now reached.
"Neither Steventon nor I were members of the party of relief," he
said. "How are we to answer you?"
"Your brother officers who _were_ members of the party must have
told you what happened," Clara rejoined. "I only ask you and Mr.
Steventon to tell me what they told you."
Mrs. Crayford interposed again, with a practical suggestion this
time.
"The luncheon is not unpacked yet," she said. "Come, Clara! this
is our business, and the time is passing."
"The luncheon can wait a few minutes longer," Clara answered.
"Bear with my obstinacy," she went on, laying her hand
caressingly on Crayford's shoulder. "Tell me how those two came
to be separated from the rest. You have always been the kindest
of friends--don't begin to be cruel to me now!"
The tone in which she made her entreaty to Crayford went straight
to the sailor's heart. He gave up the hopeless struggle: he let
her see a glimpse of the truth.
"On the third day out," he said, "Frank's strength failed him. He
fell behind the rest from fatigue."
"Surely they waited for him?"
"It was a serious risk to wait for him, my child. Their lives
(and the lives of the men they had left in the huts) depended, in
that dreadful climate, on their pushing on. But Frank was a
favorite. They waited half a day to give Frank the chance of
recovering his strength."
There he stopped. There the imprudence into which his fondness
for Clara had led him showed itself plainly, and closed his lips.
It was too late to take refuge in silence. Clara was determined
on hearing more.
She questioned Steventon next.
"Did Frank go on again after the half-day's rest?" she asked.
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