The record-union., 1897-01-17

N'Sf' ~ SAAS Ups qoiN ClCQ LII u N~tAN~A
smile, and the glorious dark eyes sent
thrill through me. And yet, with all
its wonderful beauty there was some
thing in the face which / could not un-
derstand; it did not seem exactly an
earthly loveliness. and the very tender
ness of the expression. the depth of the
passionate eyes. seemed to veil some
thing very different l did not under
stand it then, but do now. AS | looked
at the picture, a sudden thought oc-
CURED to me-
9 Lindsay 1 said, what we saw was
the beauty of death. This is the living
woman. How did you paint her with
the light in her eyes and the smile on
her 1ps?'
Because have seen her so,' he an
swered, only more beautiful. Each
night she has come to me in my dreams.
/ have had double life-the dull exist
ence of the day and the dream-life
where we have met | wish | could
sleep and dream always. / hate the
glaring day, and all the time | long for
the moonlit forest and her. He spoke
in an even, monotonous voice as though
TO himself, hardly conscious of my pres
ence. 1 was born centuries too late;
the only woman 1 could love is dead, ex-
cept in the nighttime, and then her eyes
look into my heart, and her kisses burn
me- She winds her white arms about
me- and talks to me in a language l
do not understand; but l can read her
eyes, she bends back my head and kisses
me full ON the throat
Lindsay, | said. as he turned his
head dreamily, you've scratched your
self there, haven't you? There's a mark
like small cut where the blood has
dried 1t might partly account for
your dream, you know.
1t is not a dream Of that sort he
answered. 1T is the real part of my
life
1t seems to me, Lindsay, that
| there's something wrong with you,' I
said. Instead of getting healthy rest,
you dream these morbid things, and
brood over them all day. Come away
With me Tomorrow to Vienna for a
week
But [ could not induce him to leave
the place, and his manner was so
strangely changed that / determined
to look after him that night. He would
not hear of my sleeping in his room.
but left my own door ajar, and sat
down with book, ready to watch un-
till the early morning, at any rate. Once
L looked into his room, and saw him
tossing and muttering in his sleep;
then l went back and got interested in
my book, SO l don't know exactly what
| time it was when l heard light step
| in the passage. Looking out quietly,
I saw him coming toward me. half
/ dressed q fly liz inc N
his sleep, with a set, tense face, and a
| blank, filmy look about his eyes. I
was afraid to wake him suddenly-he
| looked SO rigid and strange-so I fol-
| lowed him down the stairs and out of
| the door of the inn..
| THE mountain road runs past the
| front, and a little way to the left it
| crosses the river by a small wooden
| bridge, high over the gorge; on the
| other side are the pine woods. Over
these the waning moon was just ris-
| iTg, and the night was very still. This
was the way Lindsay WENT and I kept
close behind him, lest he should come
| to any harm. He did not go deep into
| the wood, but sat down ON the trunk of
| a felled pine, resting his head on his
| hands and looking intently into the
wood. 1 don't know what I ought to
have done, but 1 determined to see the
| thing out.
Il went for a moment behind
large tree, to light my pipe, and when
| l looked again for Lindsay 1 saw, to
| my surprise, that he was no longer
alone Seated close by his side was a
| woman dressed in white; her arms
We're wound about him, and his head
lay ON her breast, looking up into her
| face. Her back was towards me, and
could only see her great coils of
dusky hair and the gleam of her white
arms and neck in the dim light. She
was talking to him i'm low. grooming
voice, but l could not catch the words
Only the soft murmuring tones. Lind
say was quite still. except that every
now and then he turned his head to
press his lips against her bare arm.
| A kind of spell seemed over me, and
| cannot say how long 1 stood watch
ing them-perhaps it was half an hour.
AT last she turned slightly, and draw
ing her face up to his. kissed him. 1t
! was the face of the picture the face
of the girl in the tomb, but radiant
with a living beauty, and with a
strange light in her dark eyes She
kissed him twice, and 1 saw his breast
heave in "a long sigh, and then she
| slipped her arm around his neck and
| laying his head back on her shoulder
| bent her lovely face and pressed kiss
on his throat Rising gently, she stood
/ for moment facing me in the moon
| light, with a smile on her lips, and
| then, as l looked, glided noisalessly
away and my eyes followed the CLEAN
of her white drapery among the pine
/ trunks until it was lost in the gloom
| Lindsay was still seated on the fallen
tree; he did not turn as 1 strode rap
| idly up, but seemed just in the same
trance-like sleep, with the same fixed,
vacant stare. I shook his arm and
spoke to him, and he smiled family, as
if half awake.
| You've been walking in your sleep,
I said. Come back with me-
| He got up mechanically but would
have fallen if 1 had not put my arm
round him.
Why did you wake me?' he said
peevishly. Don't hold me like that
hate to wake! leave me alone
| He shook off my arm and walked
rapidly toward the bridge but stag
gered as he reached lit, and l was only
| just in time to catch him by the shoul
der 1 pulled him back just as he was
falling, and the sudden shock seemed
to wake him fully, for he took my arm
| quietly and let me help him along.
| When we got over the bridge he said:
Let me sit down a minute, Cart
eret: I feel rather faint
Il put him on the low fence by the
roadside and slipped my arm round
| his neck to steady him while I gave