He started in his sleep, shivered and sighed at that remembered drive.

The train passed over new points, the hoods of the lamps swayed, the lights blinked and winked, and his mind swung onward in response to the physical jar.
Abo was obliterated.

He was on board a ship--a ship ploughing her way through the ice-fields as she neared Stockholm; salt sea air flicked his nostrils, he heard the broken ice tearing the keel like a million files, he was sensible of the crucial sensation--the tremendous quiver--as the vessel slipped from her bondage into the cradle of the sea, a sentient thing welcoming her own element! The heart of the dreamer leaped to that strange sensation.

He drew a long, sharp breath, and sat up, suddenly awake.

It was over and done with--the coldness, the rigor, the region of ice bonds! The fingers of the future beckoned to him; the promises of the future lapped his ears as the waves had lapped the ship's sides.
He looked about him, at first excitedly, then confusedly, then a little shamedfacedly, for we are always involuntarily shamed at being tricked by our emotions into a false conception.