Chapter 37
THE DAWN. Strange to say, there was no return of his fever. He seemed, through the utter carelessness of mental agony, so to have abandoned his body, that he no longer affected it. A man must have some hope, to be aware of his body at all. As the darkness began to yield he fell asleep. Then came a curious dream. For ages Joan had been persuading him to go with her, and the old captain to go with him--the latter angry and pulling him, the former weeping and imploring. He would go with neither, and at last they vanished both. He sat solitary on the side of a bare hill, and below him was all that remained of Castle Warlock. He had been dead so many years, that it was now but a half--shapeless ruin of roofless walls, haggard and hollow and gray and desolate. It stood on its ridge like a soli
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