Year: 1869




bridge, the evening preceding the day /
had fixed for my departure, | entered the
sale -manger of the hotel for some re-
| freshment. There was no one there, but
the book lay open on the table near the
| ink stand, as if sore entry had just been
made. / was about to glance at it, when
my eye fell on the latest Times, which,
proving more attractive, prevented my
| looking to see if any fresh travellers had
passed through during the day. Sitting
down to the newspaper, | remember clos
| ing the book, and resting my elbow on it
| for considerable period, whilst dallied
with the large quill pen, still wet from its
! recent use; for what followed induced me
to recall minutely my slightest actions af-
ter / entered the hotel that evening.
Fritz, the waiter, did not serve my meal !;
| read till it was very late, and went
straight to my room, just as the lights
were being extinguished.


Now, suppose that for the last twelve
years of my life, Bertha Mollett had never
been farther from my mind than she was
when laid my head on the pillow that
night. I had not thought of her for
months my brain teemed with specula-
tions (far enough removed from old asso-
ciations) which had been aroused by
a stirring political article in the Times,
| and yet, / take it, had scarcely closed
my eyes five minutes, when dreamed of
! her; yes, for the very first time, saw her
in my sleep! l knew somehow, instinct
lively, that it was she although could not
see her face, for she was sitting with her
back towards me, her elbows resting on a
table, her head buried in her hands, and
her long hair falling in thick masses over
her shoulders entirely hiding the upper
part of her figure.


Although, of course, had never seen
her with her hair in this state, and al
though, as | say, could no. even now
distinguish her face, was vet perfectly
conscious of who it was. The apartment
where she sat, too, was quite familiar to
me- 1t was as if the old schOOlrOom had
been suddenly transplanted to Lucerne,
for | could see, instead of our cricket field,
the moonlit lake and mountains through
the open window, the same view, indeed,
that there was from the front OF the hotel
| The furniture, likewise, was changed, and
wore a foreign aspect. The floor was car
petless and highly polished; the recess for
the bookcase was now much larger, and held
instead of pOnderOuS tones, little French
bed, with light muslin curtains festOoned
above it. 1t appeared to be occupied, and
l remember striving in vain to see who
was lying there Everything was perfect
ly familiar and yet so strange, possessing
all that curious combination of the real
and unreal which marks such scenes in
dreamland; but when at last the sitting
figure rose, and turned towards me, it was
as if the living woman herselfwere therel


There was nothing unreal about her !
So vivid was the apparitiOn
| hot nnrrlI ha
mained as to her identity. Her face, grown
much older, certainly, but as lovely as
ever, was in its ashy paleness, the very
picture of despair and misery; her eyes,
yelling over with tears, looked at me
piteously, as if appealing for help, whilst
stretching one hand towards me, and
| pointing with the other to the bed, she
seemed on the point of speaking; but the
next moment she sank back on the chair,
and awoke with start, and a sensation
such as had never experienced before.


l need hardly say slept but little more
that night lay Illuminating till daylight
upon the strangencss OF my dream !;
strange, under any circumstances, L
thought, but doubly so as being the first
in which had ever seen her, and as hav-
ing happened here, in spot where there
were no associations that could possibly
udNc H. IL luoQC a
sion on me, and it was only after had had
my breakfast, and had come into contact
little with the outer world, that L began
to recover my usual equanimity; yet it 50
unhinged me that could not make up my
mind to leave Lucerne as | had intended
that day. felt irresistibly chained to the
place.


After dinner that evening, when the full
moon had risen clear of the mountains,
but yet not so high as to prevent her
bright rays from stealing partially beneath
the roof of the old bridge, [ lighted my ci-
gar, and strolled away to my favOrite
lounge Here revelled. as usual, in the
quiet and beauty of the hour; not a breath
of wind, and scarcely fOOtstep broke the
silence, for your Swiss is early to bed, and
there were but few passengers at that time
crossing the broad embouchure of the lake,
where it seems to repOse in its greatest
calm ere it rushes forward to its narrow
channel, to lose its identity and name in
the sparkling river Reuss.


was leaning over the balustrade, about
midway across the bridge, and in one of
the brOadest floods of moonlight, when the
sound of the railway whistle announced
the arrival of the last train from Zurich.
Then l heard through the still air the ON
nibus drive away from the station down
into the rough-paved streets, but, as the
bridge formed n short cut for foot-passen
gers to the better part of the town where
the SchweitZer HOf stands, it was not un
usual for few returning travellers to take
this way. Now heard echoing on the
old wooden planking, hurrying footsteps
coming towards me from the direction of
the station BY degrees, | fancied that
4 hao dc hoo 1a1 x.rsfb uosnno
in anxious and earnest converse. AS they
drew nearer, / could distinctly hear the
broken English of Fritz reiterating the
words, mo, sare, no, sare; tell you he
was not dead; zay only fear, zay only
fearl"


Then there was some question which |
could not catch, and with the talk still go
ing on rapidly, the two persons passed in
to the flood of light where was standing.
Naturally turning to look at them, the fore
most face instantly caught my eye; the
moons rays fell straight upon it, and
showed me, but very little changed, the
stern, hard features of my old Tutor Mol
lett.


Pondering as 1 had been over my dream,
my mind filled with little else than the
thoughts engendered by it vaguely run
ming over those early days, and all their
surroundings, the sudden appearance of
Berthas father scarcely at first surprised
me as much as might have been ex-
pected; it seemed perfectly natural that
he should be at hand. l was more than
ever, for the moment, back amongst the
old scenes, and it was only in the course
of minute or so, after he had passed,
that recovered myself sufficiently fully
to realize the, to me, extraordinary circum-
stance Had he dropped from the clouds,
/ could not then have been more startled.
Was it really he, or only a phantom of
my own active Imagination had been
unobserved; so to follow and ascertain, to
speak to him, and set all doubt at rest,
was my involuntary impulse. A few
strides brought me to his side, just as he
descended the steps at the end of the
bridge and emerged into the full light