s eyes from my face, and the momentary glimpse of
a mightier universe passed utterly away. Reason regained its sway over a
dull, limited kingdom.

"Come to-night," I heard the old man say, "come to me to-night into the
Wood of the Dead. Come at midnight--"

Involuntarily I clutched the arm of the settle for support, for I then
felt that I was speaking with someone who knew more of the real things
that are and will be, than I could ever know while in the body, working
through the ordinary channels of sense--and this curious half-promise of
a partial lifting of the veil had its undeniable effect upon me.

The breeze from the sea had died away outside, and the blossoms were
still. A yellow butterfly floated lazily past the window. The song of
the birds hushed--I smelt the sea--I smelt the perfume of heated summer
air rising from fields and flowers, the ineffable scents of June and of
the long days of the year--and with it, from countless green meadows
beyond, came the hum of myriad summer life, children's voices, sweet
pipings, and the sound of water falling.

I knew myself to be on the threshold of a new order of experience--of an
ecstasy. Something drew me forth with a sense of inexpressible yearning
towards the being of this strange old man in the window seat, and for a
moment I knew what it was to taste a mighty and wonderful sensation, and
to touch the highest pinnacle of joy I have ever known. It lasted for
less than a second, and was gone; but in that brief instant of time the
same terrible lucidity came to me that had already shown me how the past
and future exist in the present, and I realised and understood that
pleasure and pain are one and the same force, for the joy I had just
experienced included also all the pain I ever had felt, or ever could
feel. . . .

The sunshine grew to dazzling radiance, faded, passed away. The shadows
paused in their dance upon the grass, deepened a moment, and then melted
into air. The flowers of the fruit trees laughed with their little
silvery laughter as the wind sighed over their radiant eyes the old,
old tale of its personal love. Once or twice a voice called my name. A
wonderful sensation of lightness and power began to steal over me.

Suddenly the door opened and the inn-keeper's daughter came in. By all
ordinary standards, her's was a charming country loveliness, born of the
stars and wild-flowers, of moonlight shining through autumn mists upon
the river and the field