Yet, there was in it, also, a strange and awful clearness, and
emptiness. Periodically, I had glimpses of a ghostly track of fire that
swayed thin and darkly toward the sun-stream; vanished and reappeared.
It was the scarcely visible moon-stream.
Looking out at the landscape, I was conscious again, of a blurring sort
of 'flitter,' that came either from the light of the ponderous-swinging
sun-stream, or was the result of the incredibly rapid changes of the
earth's surface. And every few moments, so it seemed, the snow would lie
suddenly upon the world, and vanish as abruptly, as though an invisible
giant 'flitted' a white sheet off and on the earth.
Time fled, and the weariness that was mine, grew insupportable. I
turned from the window, and walked once across the room, the heavy dust
deadening the sound of my footsteps. Each step that I took, seemed a
greater effort than the one before. An intolerable ache, knew me in
every joint and limb, as I trod my way, with a weary uncertainty.
By the opposite wall, I came to a weak pause, and wondered, dimly, what
was my intent.
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