I am happy today, and write sitting on
the seat in the churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept
well all night, and did not disturb me once.
The roses seem coming back
already to her cheeks, though she is still sadly pale and wan-looking. If she
were in any way anemic I could understand it, but she is not. She is in gay spirits
and full of life and cheerfulness. All the morbid reticence seems to have passed
from her, and she has just reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of that
night, and that it was here, on this very seat, I found her asleep.
told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on the stone slab and said,
poor little feet didn't make much noise then! I daresay poor old Mr. Swales would
have told me that it was because I didn't want to wake up Geordie."
she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she had dreamed at all
Before she answered, that sweet, puckered look came into her
forehead, which Arthur, I call him Arthur from her habit, says he loves, and indeed,
I don't wonder that he does. Then she went on in a half-dreaming kind of way,
as if trying to recall it to herself.
"I didn't quite dream, but it
all seemed to be real. I only wanted to be here in this spot. I don't know why,
for I was afraid of something, I don't know what. I remember, though I suppose
I was asleep, passing through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as
I went by, and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling.
The whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once, as I
went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and dark with red
eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very sweet and very bitter all
around me at once. And then I seemed sinking into deep green water, and there
was a singing in my ears, as I have heard there is to drowning men, and then everything
seemed passing away from me. My soul seemed to go out from my body and float about
the air. I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under me,
and then there was a sort of agonizing feeling, as if I were in an earthquake,
and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you do it before I felt you."
she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I listened to her breathlessly.
I did not quite like it, and thought it better not to keep her mind on the subject,
so we drifted on to another subject, and Lucy was like her old self again. When
we got home the fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really
more rosy. Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a very happy