As he gazed like
one entranced, he saw a figure rise from a couch, pale, agitated, and
beautiful, and come forward, as it were, towards him. But suddenly the
mist closed in again upon the scene, a depth of darkness passed his eyes,
and he heard a voice say: "Speak--speak to me!"
He heard her voice as distinctly as though she were beside him--as,
indeed, she had stood before him but an instant ago.
Getting slowly to his feet, into the night he sent an answer to the call.
Would she hear? She had said long ago that she would speak to him so.
Perhaps she had tried before. But now at last he had heard and answered.
Had she heard? Time might tell--if ever they met again. But how good, and
quiet, and serene was the night!
He composed himself to sleep, but, as he lay waiting for that coverlet of
forgetfulness to be drawn over him, he heard the sound of bells soft and
clear. Just such bells he had heard upon the common at Hamley. Was it,
then, the outcome of his vision--a sweet hallucination? He leaned upon
his elbow and listened.
Pages:
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602