could I be sure that she did not lead two distinct existences?--that she
had not some loving spirit, or man, who, like her, had for a time left
the body behind--who was all in all to her in that region, and whom she
forgot when she forsook it, as she forgot me when she entered it? It was
a thought I could not brook. But I put aside its persistency as well as
I could, till she should come again. For this I waited. I could not now
endure the thought of compelling the attendance of her unconscious form;
of making her body, like a living cage, transport to my presence the
unresisting soul. I shrank from it as a true man would shrink from
kissing the lips of a sleeping woman whom he loved, not knowing that she
loved him in return.

It may well be said that to follow such a doubt was to inquire too
curiously; but once the thought had begun, and grown, and been born, how
was I to slay the monster, and be free of its hated presence? Was its
truth not a possibility?--Yet how could even she help me, for she knew
nothing of the matter? How could she vouch for the unknown? What news
can the serene face of the moon, ever the same to us, give of the hidden
half of herself turned ever towards what seems to us but the blind
abysmal darkness, which yet has its own light and its own life? All I
could hope for was to see her, to tell her, to be comforted at least by
her smile.

My saving angel glided blind into my room, lay down upon her bier, and
awaited the resurrection. I sat and awaited mine, panting to untwine
from my heart the cold death-worm that twisted around it, yet picturing
to myself the glow of love on the averted face of the beautiful
spirit--averted from me, and bending on a radiant companion all the
light withdrawn from the lovely form beside me. That light began to
return. "She is coming, she is coming," I said within me. "Back from its