Entranced in amazed ecstasy he lay quite quiet, . . afraid to speak or stir! This gentle Presence,--this fair, beseeching face, might vanish if he moved! So he dimly fancied, as he gazed up at her in mute wonder and worship, his devout eyes drinking in her saintly loveliness, from the deep burnished gold of her hair to the soft, white slimness of her prayerfully folded hands. And while he looked, old thoughts like home-returning birds began to hover round his soul,--sweet and dear remembrances, like the sunset lighting up the windows of an empty house, began to shine on the before semi-darkened nooks and crannies of his brain.
Clearer and clearer grew the reflecting mirror of his consciousness,--trouble and perplexity seemed passing away forever from his mind, . . a great and solemn peace environed him, . . and he began to believe he had crossed the boundary of death and had entered at last into the Kingdom of Heaven! O let him not break this holy silence! ... Let him rest so, with all the glory of that Angel-visage shed like summer sunbeams over him! ... Let him absorb into his innermost being the exquisite tenderness of those innocent, hopeful, watchful, starry eyes whose radiance seemed to steal into the golden morning and give it a sacred poetry and infinite marvel of meaning! So he mused, gravely contented, ... while all through the brightening skies overhead, came the pale, pink flushing of the dawn, like a far fluttering and scattering of rose-leaves.
Everything was so still that he could hear his own heart beating forth healthful and regular pulsations, . . but he was scarcely conscious of his own existence,--he was only aware of the vast, beautiful, halcyon calm that encircled him shelteringly and soothed all care away.
Gradually, however, this deep and delicious tranquillity began to yield to a sweeping rush of memory and comprehension, ... he knew WHO he was and WHERE he was,--though he did not as yet feel absolutely certain of life and life's so-called realities. For if the City of Al-Kyris, with all its vivid wonders, its distinct experiences, its brilliant pageantry, had been indeed a DREAM, then sorely it was possible he might be dreaming still! ... Nevertheless he was able to gather up the fragments of lost recollection consecutively enough to realize, by gentle degrees, his actual identity and position in the world, . . he was Theos Alwyn, . . a man of the nineteenth century after Christ. Ah! thank God for that! ... AFTER Christ! ... not one who had lived five thousand years BEFORE Christ's birth! ... And this quiet, patient Maiden at his side, . . who was she? A vision? ... or an actually existent Being? Unable to resist the craving desire of his heart, he spoke her name as he now remembered it, . . spoke it in a faint, awed whisper.