"Very well," she said, rapidly. "I will tell you. I went to
sleep without much terror, for I had told my maid to sleep in my
dressing-room. But I suppose the storm and the story I had told you
had unsettled my nerves, for I soon began to dream a horrid dream.
I thought I was dead once more. I could feel the horrible chill and
pain, the close-packed ice about me. I was dead, but yet there was a
spirit within me. I could feel it whispering to itself, although it
had not as yet spread its fire through me and awakened me into life.
It whispered that it was tired, and disheartened, and disappointed,
and wanted rest; that it had been on a long, fruitless journey, and
was so weary that it would not take up the burden of life again just
yet. But its rest could not be long; there was someone it must find,
and before he had gone again to that boundless land, whose haunting
spirits were impalpable as flecks of mist. And then it moaned and
wept, and seemed to live over its past, and I went back with it, or
I was one with it--I cannot define. It recalled many scenes, but
only one made an impression on my memory; I can recall no other.
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