first came out of the city; but their voices, their touch, their
vehemence and eagerness wear me out. From my childhood up I have shrunk
from close contact with my fellow-men. My mind has been busy with other
thoughts; I have desired to investigate the mysterious and unseen. When
I have walked abroad I have heard whispers in the air; I have felt the
movement of wings, the gliding of unseen feet. To my comrades these have
been a source of alarm and disquiet, but not to me; is not God in the
unseen with all His angels? and not only so, but the best and wisest of
men. There was a time indeed, when life acquired for me a charm. There
was a smile which filled me with blessedness, and made the sunshine more
sweet. But when she died my earthly joys died with her. Since then I
have thought of little but the depths profound, into which she has
disappeared like the rest.

I was in the garden of my house on that night when all the others left
Semur. I was restless, my mind was disturbed. It seemed to me that I
approached the crisis of my life. Since the time when I led M. le Maire
beyond the walls, and we felt both of us the rush and pressure of that
crowd, a feeling of expectation had been in my mind. I knew not what I
looked for--but something I looked for that should change the world.
The 'Sommation' on the Cathedral doors did not surprise me. Why should
it be a matter of wonder that the dead should come back? the wonder is
that they do not. Ah! that is the wonder. How one can go away who loves
you, and never return, nor speak, nor send any message--that is the
miracle: not that the heavens should bend down and the gates of Paradise
roll back, and those who have left us return. All my life it has been a
marvel to me how they could be kept away. I could not stay in-doors on
this strange night. My mind was full of agitation. I came out into the
garden though it was dark. I sat down upon the bench under the
trellis--she loved it. Often had I spent half the night there thinking