She rose up, and it was strange how like she felt to the child she remembered in that still summer morning so many years ago.  Her little body, which had been worn and racked with pain, felt as light and unconscious of itself as then.  She took her first step forward with the same sense of pleasure, yet of awe, suppressed delight and daring and wild adventure, yet perfect safety.  But then the recollection of the little room in which she had fallen asleep came quickly, strangely over her, confusing her mind.  “I must be dreaming, I suppose,” she said to herself regretfully; for it was all so sweet that she wished it to be true.  Her movement called her attention to herself, and she found that she was dressed, not in her night-dress, as she had lain down, but in a dress she did not know.  She paused for a moment to look at it and wonder.  She had never seen it before; she did not make out how it was made, or what stuff it was; but it fell so pleasantly about her, it was so soft and light, that in her confused state she abandoned that subject with only an additional sense of pleasure.  And now the atmosphere became more distinct to her.  She saw that under her feet was a greenness as of close velvet turf, both cool and warm, cool and soft to touch, but with no damp in it, as might have been at that early hour, and with flowers showing here and there.  She stood looking round her, not able to identify the landscape because she was still confused a little, and then walked softly on, all the time afraid lest she should awake and lose the sweetness of it all, and the sense of rest and happiness.  She felt so light, so airy, as if she could skim across the field like any child.  It was bliss enough to breathe and move with every organ so free.  After more than fifty years of hard service in the world to feel like this, even in a dream!  She smiled to herself at her own pleasure; and then once more, yet more potently, there came back upon her the appearance of her room in which she had fallen asleep.  How had she got from there to here?  Had she been carried away in her sleep, or was it only a dream, and would she by and by find herself between the four dim walls again?  Then this shadow of recollection faded away once more, and she moved forward, walking in a soft rapture over the delicious turf.  Presently she came to a little mound upon which she paused to look about her.  Every moment she saw a little farther:  blue hills far away, extending in long sweet distance, an indefinite landscape, but fair and vast, so that there could be seen no end to it, not even the line of the horizon—­save at one side, where there seemed to be a great shadowy gateway, and something dim beyond.  She turned from the brightness to look at this, and when she had looked for some time she saw what pleased her still more, though she had been so happy before—­people coming in.  They were too far off for her to see clearly, but many came, each apart, one figure only at a time.  To watch them amused her in the delightful