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Suddenly I found myself in a solid blackness, upon which the ghost
of light that dwells in the caverns of the eyes could not cast one
fancied glimmer. But my heart, which feared nothing and hoped
infinitely, was full of peace. I lay imagining what the light would
be when it came, and what new creation it would bring with it--when,
suddenly, without conscious volition, I sat up and stared about me.
The moon was looking in at the lowest, horizontal, crypt-like windows
of the death-chamber, her long light slanting, I thought, across
the fallen, but still ripening sheaves of the harvest of the great
husbandman.--But no; that harvest was gone! Gathered in, or swept
away by chaotic storm, not a sacred sheaf was there! My dead were
gone! I was alone!--In desolation dread lay depths yet deeper than
I had hitherto known!--Had there never been any ripening dead? Had
I but dreamed them and their loveliness? Why then these walls? why
the empty couches? No; they were all up! they were all abroad in
the new eternal day, and had forgotten me! They had left me behind,
and alone! Tenfold more terrible was the tomb its inhabitants away!
The quiet ones had made me quiet with their presence--had pervaded
my mind with their blissful peace; now I had no friend, and my lovers
were far from me! A moment I sat and stared horror-stricken. I had
been alone with the moon on a mountain top in the sky; now I was
alone with her in a huge cenotaph: she too was staring about, seeking
her dead with ghastly gaze! I sprang to my feet, and staggered from
the fearful place.
The cottage was empty. I ran out into the night.
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