in the furthest corner, with her back to the lamp, which she hid
completely from my view. I then saw indeed a form of perfect
loveliness before me. Almost it seemed as if the light of the
rose-lamp shone through her (for it could not be reflected from
her); such a delicate shade of pink seemed to shadow what in
itself must be a marbly whiteness of hue. I discovered
afterwards, however, that there was one thing in it I did not
like; which was, that the white part of the eye was tinged with
the same slight roseate hue as the rest of the form. It is
strange that I cannot recall her features; but they, as well as
her somewhat girlish figure, left on me simply and only the
impression of intense loveliness. I lay down at her feet, and
gazed up into her face as I lay. She began, and told me a
strange tale, which, likewise, I cannot recollect; but which, at
every turn and every pause, somehow or other fixed my eyes and
thoughts upon her extreme beauty; seeming always to culminate in
something that had a relation, revealed or hidden, but always
operative, with her own loveliness. I lay entranced. It was a
tale which brings back a feeling as of snows and tempests;
torrents and water-sprites; lovers parted for long, and meeting
at last; with a gorgeous summer night to close up the whole. I
listened till she and I were blended with the tale; till she and
I were the whole history. And we had met at last in this same
cave of greenery, while the summer night hung round us heavy with
love, and the odours that crept through the silence from the
sleeping woods were the only signs of an outer world that invaded
our solitude. What followed I cannot clearly remember. The
succeeding horror almost obliterated it. I woke as a grey dawn
stole into the cave. The damsel had disappeared; but in the
shrubbery, at the mouth of the cave, stood a strange horrible