And as he wandered under the pines or along the river, wrapped in his dreams and wondering thoughts of heaven and earth, or leaned from the window of the chamber under the low sloping roof—­the chamber that had been the chamber of death—­and looked beyond the embowering cherry trees upon the sky; or at dead of night sat under his lamp pondering over his books—­always, everywhere, he listened—­listened for the voice and the foot-falls of Virginia as he had listened in his earlier days for the voice and the footfalls of the mythical “Ligeia.”  For had she not promised that she would watch over him in spirit and, if possible, give him frequent indications of her presence—­sighing upon him in the evening winds or filling the air which he breathed with perfume from the censers of the angels?

And her promises were faithfully kept, for often as he listened he heard the sounds of the swinging of the censers of the angels, and streams of a holy perfume floated about him, and when his heart beat heavily the winds that bathed his brow came to him laden with soft sighs, and indistinct murmurs filled the night air.

* * * * *

And so the green spring and the flowery summer passed, and autumn drew on.

Then came a day of days—­a soft October day when merely to exist was to be happy and to hope.  And new life, like some sweet, rejuvenating cordial seemed to enter and course through the veins of The Dreamer and for the first time since the Silence and the Solitude had enveloped the cottage he laughed as he flung wide the windows of the chamber that had been the chamber of death, to let in the day.  And as he looked forth he said, again quoting the words of his “Morella,”

“The winds lie still in heaven.  There is a dim moisture over all the earth and a warm glow upon the waters, and upon the forest a rainbow—­a bow of promise—­from the firmament has surely fallen.  It is not a day for sorrow but for joy, for it is a day out of Aidenn itself, and I feel that ere it has passed I shall hold sweeter, more real communion with her that is in Aidenn than ever before.”

He went forth and wandered through the radiance of that perfect day hours on hours, and as he paced the solemn aisles of the pine wood, or strolled along the river walk which was veiled in a golden haze and carpeted thick with the yellow and crimson and brown leaves of October, he heard, clearly, the sound of the swinging of the censers of the angels, as his senses were bathed in the holy perfume, and the zephyrs that blew about his brow were laden with audible sweet murmurs.

As evening fell a pleasant languor possessed his limbs—­a wholesome weariness from his long wanderings—­and he lay down upon a bank littered with fallen leaves and slept.  And as he slept in the fading light, the spirit of Virginia approached him more nearly—­more tangibly—­than ever before; and finally, when the red sun had sunk into the river, and when the afterglow in the sky and the rainbow that lay upon the forest were alike blotted out by the shadows of night, and the moon—­a lustrous blur through the haze—­wandered uncertainly up the sky, she drew nearer and nearer, and pressed a fluttering kiss—­such a kiss as a butterfly might bestow upon a flower—­upon his lips; then, sighing, drew away.