Harland and Dr. Brayle especially.  Mr. Harland had, unconsciously to himself, been merely the link to bring the broken bits of a chain together—­his secretary, Mr. Swinton, occupied the place of the always necessary nonentity in a group of intellectually or psychically connected beings,—­and I was perfectly sure, without having any actual reason for my conviction, that if I remained much longer in Catherine Harland’s company, her chance liking for me would turn into the old hatred with which she had hated me in a bygone time,—­a hatred fostered by Dr. Brayle, who, plainly scheming to marry her and secure her fortune, considered me in the way (as I was) of the influence he desired to exercise over her and her father.  Therefore it seemed necessary I should remove myself,—­moreover, I was resolved that all the years I had spent in trying to find the way to some of Nature’s secrets should not be wasted—­I would learn, I too, what Rafel Santoris had learned in the House of Aselzion—­and then we might perhaps stand on equal ground, sure of ourselves and of each other!  So ran my thoughts in the solitude and stillness of the night—­a solitude and stillness so profound that the gentle push of the water against the sides of the yacht, almost noiseless as it was, sounded rough and intrusive.  My port-hole was open, and I could see the sinking moon showing through it like a white face in sorrow.  Just then I heard a low splash as of oars.  I started up and went to the sofa, where, by kneeling on the cushions.  I could look through the porthole.  There, gliding just beneath me, was a small boat, and my heart gave a sudden leap of joy as I recognised the man who rowed it as Santoris.  He smiled as I looked down,—­then, standing up in the boat, guided himself alongside, till his head was nearly on a level with the port-hole.  He put one hand on its edge.

“Not asleep yet!” he said, softly—­“What have you been thinking of?  The moon and the sea?—­or any other mystery as deep and incomprehensible?”

I stretched out my hand and laid it on his with an involuntary caressing touch.

“I could not leave you without another last word,”—­he said—­“And I have brought you a letter”—­he gave me a sealed envelope as he spoke—­“which will tell you how to find Aselzion.  I myself will write to him also and prepare him for your arrival.  When you do see him you will understand how difficult is the task you wish to undertake,—­and, if you should fail, the failure will be a greater sadness to yourself than to me—­for I could make things easier for you—­”

“I do not want things made easy for me,”—­I answered quickly—­“I want to do all that you have done—­I want to prove myself worthy at least—­”

I broke off,—­and looked down into his eyes.  He smiled.

“Well!” he said—­“Are you beginning to remember the happiness we have so often thrown away for a trifle?”

I was silent, though I folded my hand closer over his.  The soft white sleepy radiance of the moon on the scarcely moving water around us made everything look dream-like and unreal, and I was hardly conscious of my own existence for the moment, so completely did it seem absorbed by some other influence stronger than any power I had ever known.