lf still wandering through the dim unknown,
terrible country, gazing affrighted at the hills and woods that seemed to
have put on an unearthly shape, stumbling amongst the briars that caught
his feet. He lost his way in a wild country, and the red light that
blazed up from the furnace on the mountains only showed him a mysterious
land, in which he strayed aghast, with the sense of doom weighing upon
him. The dry mutter of the trees, the sound of an unseen brook, made him
afraid as if the earth spoke of his sin, and presently he was fleeing
through a desolate shadowy wood, where a pale light flowed from the
moldering stumps, a dream of light that shed a ghostly radiance.

And then again the dark summit of the Roman fort, the black sheer height
rising above the valley, and the moonfire streaming around the ring of
oaks, glowing about the green bastions that guarded the thicket and the
inner place.

The room in which he sat appeared the vision, the trouble of the wind and
rain without was but illusion, the noise of the waves in the seashell.
Passion and tears and adoration and the glories of the summer night
returned, and the calm sweet face of the woman appeared, and he thrilled
at the soft touch of her hand on his flesh.

She shone as if she had floated down into the lane from the moon that
swam between films of cloud above the black circle of the oaks. She led
him away from all terror and despair and hate, and gave herself to him
with rapture, showing him love, kissing his tears away, pillowing his
cheek upon her breast.

His lips dwelt on her lips, his mouth upon the breath of her mouth, her
arms were strained about him, and oh! she charmed him with her voice,
with sweet kind words, as she offered her sacrifice. How her scented
hair fell down, and floated over his eyes, and there was a marvelous fire
called the moon, and her lips were aflame, and her eyes shone like a
light on the hills.

All beautiful womanhood had come to him in the lane. Love had touched him
in the dusk and had flown away, but he had seen the splendor and the
glory, and his eyes had seen the enchanted light.

AVE ATQUE VALE

The old words sounded in his ears like the ending of a chant, and he
heard the music's close. Once only in his weary hapless life, once the
world had passed away, and he had known her, the dear, dear Annie, the
symbol of all mystic womanhood.

The heaviness of languor still oppressed him, holding him back amongst
these