And had I not been wrecked? And was it not
all as real as the scene now before me? I was
frightened, for I did not know but that I might
be under witchcraft, of which I had been told
much, and which in that part of the country
we all believed in. However I said nothing,
but followed my father out of doors.

A scene of great damage and desolation
there presented itself; the roof had been
blown from the barn; the ground was covered
with bricks, and tiles, and branches of trees;
all the lead-work from the roof had been torn
off, and hung down, twisted like icicles. The
garden was laid waste; and, in the orchard,
two of our beloved mulberry trees were
uprooted, as well as a fine old elm and several
fruit trees.

The wind was still too high to make it safe
for us to be abroad; tiles and stones, and
branches of trees, were still, from time to time,
falling about. The damage done by that storm
was fearful, and was recollected through the
county for many a year afterwards.

For weeks we were all too busy repairing
the effects of the storm for any one to bestow
much attention upon me; but at last my
father began to complain that I was good for
nothing, and that I went about my work as if
I were dazed. My mother agreed that I had
never been the same lad since that awful
night, and questioned me whether anything
had hurt my head.

The fact was, that the whole tenor of my
life was broken, and I could not take it up
again; I could not forget my strange dream. I
was separated from that lovely young lady and
her mother, who were more real to me than
the people I saw and spoke to every day, and
I felt lonely and miserable. The White
House on the cliff, and the Scarlet Rocks,
what had become of them? Had the house
really been swallowed in the sea? I was
consumed by a constant sense of disgust and
misery. The only hope I had, was, that some
night I might dream again and hear what
had become of them all. But I never dreamed
again, and at last I began to lose my rest.

Every day the dream haunted me more
vividly, and when I thought I should never
see those two beings more, I felt mad and
suffocated with baffled desire.

At length the change in me grew so alarming,
that a doctor was called in. He shook
his head when he saw me, and said that I
must be sent away from home, have plenty of
change, and be kept amused, or I should go
mad.

Whilst my father and mother were shocked
and perplexed by what the doctor had said,
and wondering whether going to market with
my father, and a visit for a day to the town
of Ledgeley Drayton, would not be the sort of
thing he had recommended, a letter came.
Now a letter was a very great event in our
house; I do not think my father had ever
received more than three in his life. He
would not have received this letter in question,
for the next fortnight, if one of the
farm servants had not been sent to the town
for some horse medicine, and the post-office
chanced to be next door.

The letter, written in a clear stiff hand,
proved to be from my uncle at Liverpool; it
stated that he was getting old, and, having
no children, wished to see me; that he and
my father had seen less of each other than
relations ought. He wanted some one to go
and look after his estate in Antigua, and if
my father would spare me to him for a short
time, he would make it worth my while.
A bank note for a hundred pounds was
enclosed, to pay the expenses of my journey,
and to buy some present for my mother and
sister.

There were difficulties raised, and
objections made; but I heard the magic word
"Liverpool," which was the first stage in my
dream, and I insisted, resolutely and passionately,
on going. Of course I prevailed. I
had never been from home before, but I felt
sure I should find my way. I was impatient
till I set off; my father saw me to the mail,
and I reached Liverpool without accident,
and with the vague idea that I had seen
all I now saw of it before.

My uncle was a little, dry, spare old man,
dressed in a snuff-coloured suit, with grey
silk stockings and silver buckles. He received
me very kindly, and took me about to see the
lions as he called them. But the Docks were
the only sight I cared for.

My uncle had a notion—rather a curious
one—that having been brought up on my
father's land all my life, I must of necessity
understand how an estate ought to be
managed, and this is why he informed me,
one day, that he intended to send me on the
voyage to Antigua.

I obtained my father's consent, and my
uncle gave me instructions as to what I was
to do when I got there. I had been accustomed
to look after our men at home, and I knew
how my father managed them, so that what my
uncle wanted did not come very strange to me.

One morning at breakfast, my uncle read
a letter which seemed to please him; he rubbed
his hands and said,

"Well lad, after breakfast we must go down
and take your berth. I did think of sending
you in the Lively Anne, but it seems the
Phoebe Sutliffe will sail first."

I put my hand to my forehead; I did not
know which was the dream or which was the
reality.

That day week saw me on board the
Phœbe Sutliffe, and clearing out of the
harbour. On just such a day, and amid just
such a scene, as I had beheld in my dream.

But one thing befel me which I had not
taken into account, and which I had not
dreamed—I became dreadfully sea-sick; a
startling novelty which for the time effectually
banished everything but a sense of present
misery.