I did not
speak, and was only sure that it was not a dream, when Alister and I
went on deck for the next watch, and found Dennis walking up and down in
the morning mist.

"Have you had no sleep?" I asked, for his face looked haggard.

"I couldn't. For dreaming," he said, awkwardly.

I laughed at him.

"What have you been dreaming about?"

"Don't laugh, Jack. I dreamt of Barney."

"Well, that's natural enough, Dennis. This end of the voyage must recall
the poor fellow."

"I wouldn't mind if it was a kindly dream. But I dreamed he'd an old
woman's bonnet on and a handkerchief tied over it. It haunts me."

"Go back to bed," I advised. "Perhaps you'll dream of him again looking
like himself, and that will put this out of your head."

Dennis took my advice, and I stood Alister's watch with him, and by and
by Dennis appeared on deck again looking more at ease.

"Did you dream of him again?" I asked. He nodded.

"I did--just his own dear self. But he was sitting alone on the edge of
some wharf gazing down into the water, and not a look could I get out of
him till I woke."

The following morning Dennis was still sound asleep when I rose and went
on deck. The coast of Ireland was just coming into sight through the
haze when he joined me, but before pointing it out to him, I felt
curious to know whether he had dreamed a third time of old Barney.

"Not I," said he; "all I dreamed of was a big rock standing up out of
the sea, and two children sitting on it had hold of each other's hands."

"Children you know?"

"Oh dear, no! Just a little barefoot brother and sister."

He seemed to wish to drop the subject, and at this moment a gleam of
sunshine lit up the distant coast-line with such ethereal tints, that I
did not wonder to see him spring upon the bulwarks and, catching a
ratlin with one hand, wave his cap above his head with the other,
crying, "GOD bless the Emerald Isle!"

We reached Liverpool about four o'clock in the afternoon, and as we drew
up alongside of the old wharf, my first thought was to look for Biddy
Macartney. Alister had to remain on board for a time, but Dennis came
willingly with me in search of the old woman and her coffee-barrow. At
last we betook ourselves to the dock-gatekeeper, to make inquiries, and
from him we heard a sad story. The old woman had "failed a deal of
late," he said. He "_had_ heard she wasn't right in her mind, but
whether they'd shifted her to a 'sylum or not, he couldn