"Only a dream, but the pain was very real," he muttered, as he pressed his
right hand upon his breast. Then he folded his arms on the door, and stood
looking out into the starlight.
The dream was with him still; the woman who was his friend was not
separated from him by years--only that very night he had seen her. He
looked up into the night sky that all his life long had mingled itself with
his existence. There were a thousand faces that he loved looking down at
him, a thousand stars in their glory, in crowns, and circles, and solitary
grandeur. To the man they were not less dear than to the boy they had been
not less mysterious; yet he looked up at them and shuddered; at last turned
away from them with horror. Such countless multitudes stretching out far
into space, and yet not in one of them all was she! Though he searched
through them all, to the furthest, faintest point of light, nowhere should
he ever say, "She is here!" Tomorrow's sun would rise and gild the world's
mountains, and shine into its thousand valleys; it would set and the stars
creep out again. Year after year, century after century, the old changes
of nature would go on, day and night, summer and winter, seed-time and
harvest; but in none of them all would she have part!
He shut the door to keep out their hideous shining, and because the dark
was intolerable lit a candle, and paced the little room, faster and faster
yet.
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