The doctor had interrupted Maurice at an interesting point.  What did he mean by saying that his dream had become a vision?  This is what the doctor was naturally curious, and professionally anxious, to know.  But his hand was still on his patient’s pulse, which told him unmistakably that the heart had taken the alarm and was losing its energy under the depressing nervous influence.  Presently, however, it recovered its natural force and rhythm, and a faint flush came back to the pale cheek.  The doctor remembered the story of Galen, and the young maiden whose complaint had puzzled the physicians.

The next day his patient was well enough to enter once more into conversation.

“You said something about a dream of yours which had become a vision,” said the doctor, with his fingers on his patient’s wrist, as before.  He felt the artery leap, under his pressure, falter a little, stop, then begin again, growing fuller in its beat.  The heart had felt the pull of the bridle, but the spur had roused it to swift reaction.

“You know the story of my past life, doctor,” Maurice answered; “and, I will tell you what is the vision which has taken the place of my dreams.  You remember the boat-race?  I watched it from a distance, but I held a powerful opera-glass in my hand, which brought the whole crew of the young ladies’ boat so close to me that I could see the features, the figures, the movements, of every one of the rowers.  I saw the little coxswain fling her bouquet in the track of the other boat,—­you remember how the race was lost and won,—­but I saw one face among those young girls which drew me away from all the rest.  It was that of the young lady who pulled the bow oar, the captain of the boat’s crew.  I have since learned her name, you know it well,—­I need not name her.  Since that day I have had many distant glimpses of her; and once I met her so squarely that the deadly sensation came over me, and I felt that in another moment I should fall senseless at her feet.  But she passed on her way and I on mine, and the spasm which had clutched my heart gradually left it, and I was as well as before.  You know that young lady, doctor?”

“I do; and she is a very noble creature.  You are not the first young man who has been fascinated, almost at a glance, by Miss Euthymia Tower.  And she is well worth knowing more intimately.”

The doctor gave him a full account of the young lady, of her early days, her character, her accomplishments.  To all this he listened devoutly, and when the doctor left him he said to himself, “I will see her and speak with her, if it costs me my life.”

XXII

Euthymia.