In accompanying Edith to the part of the beach where we stood I had taken
no note of directions, but now, as I began to study the shore, I observed
with lively emotion that she had unwittingly brought me to the site of my
old seaside place at Nahant. The buildings were indeed gone, and the
growth of trees had quite changed the aspect of the landscape, but the
shore line remained unaltered, and I knew it at once. Bidding her follow
me, I led the way around a point to a little strip of beach between the
sea and a wall of rock which shut off all sight or sound of the land
behind. In my former life the spot had been a favorite resort when I
visited the shore. Here in that life so long ago, and yet recalled as if
of yesterday, I had been used from a lad to go to do my day dreaming.
Every feature of the little nook was as familiar to me as my bedroom and
all was quite unchanged. The sea in front, the sky above, the islands and
the blue headlands of the distant coast--all, indeed, that filled the
view was the same in every detail. I threw myself upon the warm sand by
the margin of the sea, as I had been wont to do, and in a moment the
flood of familiar associations had so completely carried me back to my
old life that all the marvels that had happened to me, when presently I
began to recall them, seemed merely as a day dream that had come to me
like so many others before it in that spot by the shore. But what a dream
it had been, that vision of the world to be; surely of all the dreams
that had come to me there by the sea the weirdest!
There had been a girl in the dream, a maiden much to be desired. It had
been ill if I had lost her; but I had not, for this was she, the girl in
this strange and graceful garb, standing by my side and smiling down at
me. I had by some great hap brought her back from dreamland, holding her
by the very strength of my love when all else of the vision had dissolved
at the opening of the eyes.
Why not? What youth has not often been visited in his dreams by maidenly
ideals fairer than walk on earth, whom, waking, he has sighed for and for
days been followed by the haunting beauty of their half-remembered faces?
I, more fortunate than they, had baffled the jealous warder at the gates
of sleep and brought my queen of dreamland through.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account