my teeth! And then I passed into this life.

No, I have no knowledge of what it was. The sum of what we knew at
death is the measure of what we know afterward of all that went
before. Of this existence we know many things, but no new light
falls upon any page of that; in memory is written all of it that we
can read. Here are no heights of truth overlooking the confused
landscape of that dubitable domain. We still dwell in the Valley of
the Shadow, lurk in its desolate places, peering from brambles and
thickets at its mad, malign inhabitants. How should we have new
knowledge of that fading past?

What I am about to relate happened on a night. We know when it is
night, for then you retire to your houses and we can venture from our
places of concealment to move unafraid about our old homes, to look
in at the windows, even to enter and gaze upon your faces as you
sleep. I had lingered long near the dwelling where I had been so
cruelly changed to what I am, as we do while any that we love or hate
remain. Vainly I had sought some method of manifestation, some way
to make my continued existence and my great love and poignant pity
understood by my husband and son. Always if they slept they would
wake, or if in my desperation I dared approach them when they were
awake, would turn toward me the terrible eyes of the living,
frightening me by the glances that I sought from the purpose that I
held.

On this night I had searched for them without success, fearing to
find them; they were nowhere in the house, nor about the moonlit
lawn. For, although the sun is lost to us forever, the moon, full-
orbed or slender, remains to us. Sometimes it shines by night,