He
had known full many sleeping visions and fancies of late, but, of
them all, surely none had there been quite like this.
For it seemed to him that he was lying out amid the green, dewy
freshness of Annersley Wood. And as he lay there, grievously hurt, lo!
there came one hasting, light-footed to him through the green like
some young nymph of Arcady or Goddess of the Wood, one for whom he
seemed to have been waiting long and patiently, one as sweet and
fresh and fair as the golden morning and tender as the Spirit of
Womanhood.
And, for that he might not speak or move because of his hurt, she
leaned above him and her hands touched him, hands very soft, and cool,
and gentle, upon his brow, upon his cheek; and every touch was a
caress.
Slowly, slowly her arms came about him in a warm, clinging embrace,
arms strong and protecting that drew his weary head to the swell of
a bosom and pillowed it sweetly there. And clasping him thus, she
sighed over him and wept, though very silently, and stooped her lips
to him to kiss his brow, his slumberous eyes, and, last of all, his
mouth.
So, because of this dream, Barnabas lay in a deep and utter content,
for it seemed that Happiness had come to him after all, and of its
own accord.
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