outset of
your friendship with the one man of all men whom your father warned you
to avoid. Think of those death-bed words, and whisper them in his ear,
that he may think of them, too: 'Hide yourself from him under an assumed
name. Put the mountains and the seas between you; be ungrateful, be
unforgiving; be all that is most repellent to your own gentler nature,
rather than live under the same roof and breathe the same air with that
man.'" So the tempter counseled. So, like a noisome exhalation from the
father's grave, the father's influence rose and poisoned the mind of the
son.

The sudden silence surprised Allan; he looked back drowsily over his
shoulder. "Thinking again!" he exclaimed, with a weary yawn.

Midwinter stepped out from the shadow, and came nearer to Allan than he
had come yet. "Yes," he said, "thinking of the past and the future."

"The past and the future?" repeated Allan, shifting himself comfortably
into a new position. "For my part, I'm dumb about the past. It's a sore
subject with me: the past means the loss of the doctor's boat. Let's
talk about the future. Have you been taking a practical view? as dear
old Brock calls it. Have you been considering the next serious question
that concerns us both when we get back to the hotel--the question of
breakfast?"

After an instant's hesitation, Midwinter took a step nearer. "I have
been thinking of your future and mine," he said; "I have been thinking
of the time when your way in life and my way in life will be two ways
instead of one."

"Here's the daybreak!" cried Allan. "Look up at the masts; they're
beginning to get clear again already. I beg your pardon. What were you
saying?"

Midwinter made no reply. The struggle between the hereditary
superstition that was driving him on, and the unconquerable affection
for Allan that was holding him back, suspended the next words on his
lips. He turned aside his face in speechless suffering. "Oh, my father!"
he thought, "better have killed me on that day when I lay on your bosom,
than have let me live for this."

"What's that about the future?" persisted Allan. "I was looking for the
daylight; I didn't hear."

Midwinter controlled himself, and answered: "You have treated me with
your usual kindness," he said, "in planning to take me with you to
Thorpe Ambrose. I think, on reflection, I had better not intrude myself
where I am not known and not expected." His voice faltered, and he
stopped again. The mor