Waiting the appointed hour, I sat imagining the scene. I saw _myself_
suddenly rising ('sudden Ianthe rose') from the prone body and all
circumjacent grossness--rising, through clouds and darkness, to some
delightsome plane of the inner world. A dozen yards in front of me,
beside a graceful tree, would stand 'the only.' We would gaze at each
other, with intense scrutiny, for some moments. Each would think, 'There
is plenty of time; it is to last forever.' We would even look about us,
still saying nothing. Being eternally modelled, fitted, fore-ordained,
and predestined for each other, love arrows would, of course, have
pierced our centres of palpitation at the first mutual glance. Still,
though quivering with emotion, neither would be disposed to lessen the
distance. Methought we would even seat ourselves on the mossy banks--the
dozen yards still intervening--and, each leaning back against a tree,
would 'face the enemy'--the eternal joy-sharer, sorrow-sharer, worship,
wisdom, love, pity, wonder, use, sport, hope-sharer; while,
occasionally, a premonitory, prophetic pang of rapture out of the coming
eternities of bliss would thrill through us. I had even a fancy that
there would be no interchange of words, no lessening of the coy distance
of space and manner, during this first interview.
Pages:
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204