IT mattered little to me to what port the vessel was bound. Gowhere I might, I knew that I was on my way to Mrs. Van Brandt.She had need of me again; she had claimed me again. Where thevisionary hand of the child had pointed, thither I was destinedto go. Abroad or at home, it mattered nothing: when I next set myfoot on the land, I should be further directed on the journeywhich lay before me. I believed this as firmly as I believed thatI had been guided, thus far, by the vision of the child.

For two nights I had not slept--my weariness overpowered me. Idescended to the cabin, and found an unoccupied corner in which Icould lie down to rest. When I awoke, it was night already, andthe vessel was at sea.

I went on deck to breathe the fresh air. Before long thesensation of drowsiness returned; I slept again for hourstogether. My friend, the physician, would no doubt haveattributed this prolonged need of repose to the exhaustedcondition of my brain, previously excited by delusions which hadlasted uninterruptedly for many hours together. Let the cause bewhat it might, during the greater part of the voyage I was awakeat intervals only. The rest of the time I lay like a wearyanimal, lost in sleep.

When I stepped on shore at Rotterdam, my first proceeding was toask my way to the English Consulate. I had but a small sum ofmoney with me; and, for all I knew to the contrary, it might bewell, before I did anything else, to take the necessary measuresfor replenishing my purse.

I had my traveling-bag with me. On the journey to GreenwaterBroad I had left it at the inn in the market-town, and the waiterhad placed it in the carriage when I started on my return toLondon. The bag contained my checkbook, and certain letters whichassisted me in proving my identity to the consul. He kindly gaveme the necessary introduction to the correspondents at Rotterdamof my bankers in London.

Having obtained my money, and having purchased certainnecessaries of which I stood in need, I walked slowly along thestreet, knowing nothing of what my next proceeding was to be, andwaiting confidently for the event which was to guide me. I hadnot walked a hundred yards before I noticed the name of "VanBrandt" inscribed on the window-blinds of a house which appearedto be devoted to mercantile purposes.

The street door stood open. A second door, on one side of thepassage, led into the office. I entered the room and inquired forMr. Van Brandt. A clerk who spoke English was sent for tocommunicate with me. He told me there were three partners of thatname in the business, and inquired which of them I wished to see.I remembered Van Brandt's Christian name, and mentioned it. Nosuch person as "Mr. Ernest Van Brandt" was known at the office.

"We are only the branch house of the firm of Van Brandt here,"the clerk explained. "The head office is at Amsterdam. They mayknow where Mr. Ernest Van Brandt is to be found, if you inquirethere."

It mattered nothing to me where I went, so long as I was on myway to Mrs. Van Brandt. It was too late to travel that day; Islept at a hotel. The night passed quietly and uneventfully. Thenext morning I set forth by the public conveyance for Amsterdam.

Repeating my inquiries at the head office on my arrival, I wasreferred to one of the partners in the firm. He spoke Englishperfectly; and he received me with an appearance of interestwhich I was at a loss to account for at first.

"Mr. Ernest Van Brandt is well known to me," he said. "May I askif you are a relative or friend of the English lady who has beenintroduced here as his wife?"

I answered in the affirmative; adding, "I am here to give anyassistance to the lady of which she may stand in need."

The merchant's next words explained the appearance of interestwith which he had received me.

"You are most welcome," he said. "You relieve my partners andmyself of a great anxiety. I can only explain what I mean byreferring for a moment to the business affairs of my firm. Wehave a fishing establishment in the ancient city of Enkhuizen, onthe shores of the Zuyder Zee. Mr. Ernest Van Brandt had a sharein it at one time, which he afterward sold. Of late years ourprofits from this source have been diminishing; and we think ofgiving up the fishery, unless our prospects in that quarterimprove after a further trial. In the meantime, having a vacantsituation in the counting-house at Enkhuizen, we thought of Mr.Ernest Van Brandt, and offered him the opportunity of renewinghis connection with us, in the capacity of a clerk. He is relatedto one of my partners; but I am bound in truth to tell you thathe is a very bad man. He has awarded us for our kindness to himby embezzling our money; and he has taken to flight--in whatdirection we have not yet discovered. The English lady and herchild are left deserted at Enkhuizen; and until you came hereto-day we were quite at a loss to know what to do with them. Idon't know whether you are already aware of it, sir; but thelady's position is made doubly distressing by doubts which weentertain of her being really Mr. Ernest Van Brandt's wife. Toour certain knowledge, he was privately married to another womansome years since; and we have no evidence whatever that the firstwife is dead. If we can help you in any way to assist yourunfortunate country-woman, pray believe that our services are atyour disposal."

With what breathless interest I listened to these words it isneedless to say. Van Brandt had deserted her! Surely (as my poormother had once said) "she must turn to me now." The hopes thathad abandoned me filled my heart once more; the future which Ihad so long feared to contemplate showed itself again bright withthe promise of coming happiness to my view. I thanked the goodmerchant with a fervor that surprised him. "Only help me to findmy way to Enkhuizen," I said, "and I will answer for the rest."

"The journey will put you to some expense," the merchant replied."Pardon me if I ask the question bluntly. Have you money?"

"Plenty of money."

"Very good. The rest will be easy enough. I will place you underthe care of a countryman of yours, who has been employed in ouroffice for many years. The easiest way for you, as a stranger,will be to go by sea; and the Englishman will show you where tohire a boat."

In a few minutes more the clerk and I were on our way to theharbor.

Difficulties which I had not anticipated occurred in finding theboat and in engaging a crew. This done, it was next necessary topurchase provisions for the voyage. Thanks to the experience ofmy companion, and to the hearty good-will with which he exertedit, my preparations were completed before night-fall. I was ableto set sail for my destination on the next day.

The boat had the double advantage, in navigating the Zuyder Zee,of being large, and of drawing very little water; the captain'scabin was at the stern; and the two or three men who formed hiscrew were berthed forward, in the bows. The whole middle of theboat, partitioned off on the one side and on the other from thecaptain and the crew, was assigned to me for my cabin. Underthese circumstances, I had no reason to complain of want ofspace; the vessel measuring between fifty and sixty tons. I had acomfortable bed, a table, and chairs. The kitchen was well awayfrom me, in the forward part of the boat. At my own request, Iset forth on the voyage without servant or interpreter. Ipreferred being alone. The Dutch captain had been employed, at aformer period of his life, in the mercantile navy of France; andwe could communicate, whenever it was necessary or desirable, inthe French language.

We left the spires of Amsterdam behind us, and sailed over thesmooth waters of the lake on our way to the Zuyder Zee.

The history of this remarkable sea is a romance in itself. In thedays when Rome was mistress of the world, it had no existence.Where the waves now roll, vast tracts of forest surrounded agreat inland lake, with but one river to serve it as an outlet tothe sea. Swelled by a succession of tempests, the lake overflowedits boundaries: its furious waters, destroying every obstacle intheir course, rested only when they reached the furthest limitsof the land.

The Northern Ocean beyond burst its way in through the gaps ofruin; and from that time the Zuyder Zee existed as we know itnow. The years advanced, the generations of man succeeded eachother; and on the shores of the new ocean there rose great andpopulous cities, rich in commerce, renowned in history. Forcenturies their prosperity lasted, before the next in this mightyseries of changes ripened and revealed itself. Isolated from therest of the world, vain of themselves and their good fortune,careless of the march of progress in the natio ns round them, theinhabitants of the Zuyder Zee cities sunk into the fatal torporof a secluded people. The few members of the population who stillpreserved the relics of their old energy emigrated, while themass left behind resignedly witnessed the diminution of theircommerce and the decay of their institutions. As the yearsadvanced to the nineteenth century, the population was reckonedby hundreds where it had once been numbered by thousands. Tradedisappeared; whole streets were left desolate. Harbors, oncefilled with shipping, were destroyed by the unresistedaccumulation of sand. In our own times the decay of these onceflourishing cities is so completely beyond remedy, that the nextgreat change in contemplation is the draining of the nowdangerous and useless tract of water, and the profitablecultivation of the reclaimed land by generations that are stillto come. Such, briefly told, is the strange story of the ZuyderZee.

As we advanced on our voyage, and left the river, I noticed thetawny hue of the sea, caused by sand-banks which color theshallow water, and which make the navigation dangerous toinexperienced seamen. We found our moorings for the night at thefishing island of Marken--a low, lost, desolate-looking place, asI saw it under the last gleams of the twilight. Here and there,the gabled cottages, perched on hillocks, rose black against thedim gray sky. Here and there, a human figure appeared at thewaterside, standing, fixed in contemplation of the strange boat.And that was all I saw of the island of Marken.

Lying awake in the still night, alone on a strange sea, therewere moments when I found myself beginning to doubt the realityof my own position.

Was it all a dream? My thoughts of suicide; my vision of themother and daughter; my journey back to the metropolis, led bythe apparition of the child; my voyage to Holland; my nightanchorage in the unknown sea--were these, so to speak, all piecesof the same morbid mental puzzle, all delusions from which Imight wake at any moment, and find myself restored to my sensesagain in the hotel at London? Bewildered by doubts which led mefurther and further from any definite conclusion, I left my bedand went on deck to change the scene. It was a still and cloudynight. In the black void around me, the island was a blackershadow yet, and nothing more. The one sound that reached my earswas the heavy breathing of the captain and his crew sleeping oneither side of me. I waited, looking round and round the circleof darkness in which I stood. No new vision showed itself. When Ireturned again to the cabin, and slumbered at last, no dreamscame to me. All that was mysterious, all that was marvelous, inthe later events of my life seemed to have been left behind me inEngland. Once in Holland, my course had been influenced bycircumstances which were perfectly natural, by commonplacediscoveries which might have revealed themselves to any man in myposition. What did this mean? Had my gifts as a seer of visionsdeparted from me in the new land and among the strange people? Orhad my destiny led me to the place at which the troubles of mymortal pilgrimage were to find their end? Who could say?

Early the next morning we set sail once more.

Our course was nearly northward. On one side of me was the tawnysea, changing under certain conditions of the weather to a dullpearl-gray. On the other side was the flat, winding coast,composed alternately of yellow sand and bright-greenmeadow-lands; diversified at intervals by towns and villages,whose red-tiled roofs and quaint church-steeples rose gaylyagainst the clear blue sky. The captain suggested to me to visitthe famous towns of Edam and. Hoorn; but I declined to go onshore. My one desire was to reach the ancient city in which Mrs.Van Brandt had been left deserted. As we altered our course, tomake for the promontory on which Enkhuizen is situated, the windfell, then shifted to another quarter, and blew with a forcewhich greatly increased the difficulties of navigation. I stillinsisted, as long as it was possible to do so, on holding on ourcourse. After sunset, the strength of the wind abated. The nightcame without a cloud, and the starry firmament gave us its paleand glittering light. In an hour more the capricious wind shiftedback again in our favor. Toward ten o'clock we sailed into thedesolate harbor of Enkhuizen.

The captain and crew, fatigued by their exertions, ate theirfrugal suppers and went to their beds. In a few minutes more, Iwas the only person left awake in the boat.

I ascended to the deck, and looked about me.

Our boat was moored to a deserted quay. Excepting a few fishingvessels visible near us, the harbor of this once prosperous placewas a vast solitude of water, varied here and there by drearybanks of sand. Looking inland, I saw the lonely buildings of theDead City--black, grim, and dreadful under the mysteriousstarlight. Not a human creature, not even a stray animal, was tobe seen anywhere. The place might have been desolated by apestilence, so empty and so lifeless did it now appear. Littlemore than a hundred years ago, the record of its populationreached sixty thousand. The inhabitants had dwindled to a tenthof that number when I looked at Enkhuizen now!

I considered with myself what my next course of proceeding was tobe.

The chances were certainly against my discovering Mrs. Van Brandtif I ventured alone and unguided into the city at night. On theother hand, now that I had reached the place in which she and herchild were living, friendless and deserted, could I patientlywait through the weary interval that must elapse before themorning came and the town was astir? I knew my ownself-tormenting disposition too well to accept this latteralternative. Whatever came of it, I determined to walk throughEnkhuizen on the bare chance of meeting some one who might informme of Mrs. Van Brandt's address.

First taking the precaution of locking my cabin door, I steppedfrom the bulwark of the vessel to the lonely quay, and set forthupon my night wanderings through the Dead City.