_XIV_
THE SEA OF SLEEP
For a considerable period after the last incident which I have narratedin my diary, I had serious thoughts of leaving this house, and mighthave done so; but for the great and wonderful thing, of which I amabout to write.
How well I was advised, in my heart, when I stayed on here--spite ofthose visions and sights of unknown and unexplainable things; for, had Inot stayed, then I had not seen again the face of her I loved. Yes,though few know it, none now save my sister Mary, I have loved and,ah! me--lost.
I would write down the story of those sweet, old days; but it would belike the tearing of old wounds; yet, after that which has happened, whatneed have I to care? For she has come to me out of the unknown.Strangely, she warned me; warned me passionately against this house;begged me to leave it; but admitted, when I questioned her, that shecould not have come to me, had I been elsewhere. Yet, in spite of this,still she warned me, earnestly; telling me that it was a place, longago given over to evil, and under the power of grim laws, of which nonehere have knowledge. And I--I just asked her, again, whether she wouldcome to me elsewhere, and she could only stand, silent.
It was thus, that I came to the place of the Sea of Sleep--so shetermed it, in her dear speech with me. I had stayed up, in my study,reading; and must have dozed over the book. Suddenly, I awoke and satupright, with a start. For a moment, I looked 'round, with a puzzledsense of something unusual. There was a misty look about the room,giving a curious softness to each table and chair and furnishing.
Gradually, the mistiness increased; growing, as it were, out ofnothing. Then, slowly, a soft, white light began to glow in the room.The flames of the candles shone through it, palely. I looked from sideto side, and found that I could still see each piece of furniture; butin a strangely unreal way, more as though the ghost of each table andchair had taken the place of the solid article.
Gradually, as I looked, I saw them fade and fade; until, slowly, theyresolved into nothingness. Now, I looked again at the candles. Theyshone wanly, and, even as I watched, grew more unreal, and so vanished.The room was filled, now, with a soft, yet luminous, white twilight,like a gentle mist of light. Beyond this, I could see nothing. Even thewalls had vanished.
Presently, I became conscious that a faint, continuous sound, pulsedthrough the silence that wrapped me. I listened intently. It grew moredistinct, until it appeared to me that I harked to the breathings ofsome great sea. I cannot tell how long a space passed thus; but, after awhile, it seemed that I could see through the mistiness; and, slowly, Ibecame aware that I was standing upon the shore of an immense and silentsea. This shore was smooth and long, vanishing to right and left of me,in extreme distances. In front, swam a still immensity of sleepingocean. At times, it seemed to me that I caught a faint glimmer of light,under its surface; but of this, I could not be sure. Behind me, rose up,to an extraordinary height, gaunt, black cliffs.
Overhead, the sky was of a uniform cold grey color--the whole placebeing lit by a stupendous globe of pale fire, that swam a little abovethe far horizon, and shed a foamlike light above the quiet waters.
Beyond the gentle murmur of the sea, an intense stillness prevailed.For a long while, I stayed there, looking out across its strangeness.Then, as I stared, it seemed that a bubble of white foam floated up outof the depths, and then, even now I know not how it was, I was lookingupon, nay, looking _into_ the face of Her--aye! into her face--into hersoul; and she looked back at me, with such a commingling of joy andsadness, that I ran toward her, blindly; crying strangely to her, in avery agony of remembrance, of terror, and of hope, to come to me. Yet,spite of my crying, she stayed out there upon the sea, and only shookher head, sorrowfully; but, in her eyes was the old earth-light oftenderness, that I had come to know, before all things, ere wewere parted.
"At her perverseness, I grew desperate, and essayed to wade out to her;yet, though I would, I could not. Something, some invisible barrier,held me back, and I was fain to stay where I was, and cry out to her inthe fullness of my soul, 'O, my Darling, my Darling--' but could say nomore, for very intensity. And, at that, she came over, swiftly, andtouched me, and it was as though heaven had opened. Yet, when I reachedout my hands to her, she put me from her with tenderly stern hands, andI was abashed--"