conscious of a vision forming itself before his eyes. At first it was
indefinite, vague, without clear form, but at last it became a room dimly
outlined, delicately veiled, as it were. Then it seemed, not that
the mist cleared, but that his eyes became stronger, and saw through the
delicate haze; and now the room became wholly, concretely visible.

It was the room in which he had said good-bye to Hylda. As he gazed like
one entranced, he saw a figure rise from a couch, pale, agitated, and
beautiful, and come forward, as it were, towards him. But suddenly the
mist closed in again upon the scene, a depth of darkness passed his eyes,
and he heard a voice say: "Speak--speak to me!"

He heard her voice as distinctly as though she were beside him--as,
indeed, she had stood before him but an instant ago.

Getting slowly to his feet, into the night he sent an answer to the call.

Would she hear? She had said long ago that she would speak to him so.
Perhaps she had tried before. But now at last he had heard and answered.
Had she heard? Time might tell--if ever they met again. But how good,
and quiet, and serene was the night!

He composed himself to sleep, but, as he lay waiting for that coverlet of
forgetfulness to be drawn over him, he heard the sound of bells soft and
clear. Just such bells he had heard upon the common at Hamley. Was it,
then, the outcome of his vision--a sweet hallucination? He leaned upon
his elbow and listened.