"Is it? I remember so little of what I actually felt. I wonder—I wonder," she went on softly, with an air almost of talking to herself, "if it will ever come back again—what I felt then——"
"Such moments of subliminal excitement," Dr. Fillery reminded her gently, "have the effect of obliterating memory sometimes——"
"Excitement," she caught him up. "Yes, I suppose it was excitement. But it was more, much more, than that. Stimulated—I think that's the word really. I felt caught away somewhere, caught away, caught up—as if into the rest of myself—into the whole of myself. I became vast"—she smiled curiously—"if you know what I mean—in several places at once, perhaps, is better. It was an immense feeling—no, I mean a feeling of immensity——"
"Happy?" His voice was low.
Her eyes answered even before her words, as the memory came back a little in response to his cautious suggestion.
"A new feeling altogether," she replied, returning his clear gaze with her frank, innocent eyes that had grown still more brilliant. "A feeling I have never known before." She talked more rapidly now, leaning forward a little in her chair. "I felt in the open air somehow, with flowers, trees, hot burning sunshine and sweet winds rushing to and fro. It was something bigger than happiness—a sort of intoxicating joy, I think. It was liberty, but of an enormous spiritual kind. I wanted to dance—I believe I did dance—yes, I'm sure I did, and with hardly anything on my body. I wanted to sing—I sang downstairs, of course——"
"I heard," he put in briefly. He did not add that she had never sung like that before.
"The moment I came into the room, yes, I remember I went straight to the piano without a word to anyone." She reflected a moment. "I suppose I had to. There was something new in me I could only express by music—rhythm, that is, not language."
"It was natural," Dr. Fillery said again. "Quite natural, I think."
"Yes, Edward, I suppose it was," she answered, then sank back in her chair, as though she had told him all there was to tell.