I tried to meet you; but as I passed through the gate, a cold air blew upon me, and all beyond was in the glimmering darkness of twilight. I would have returned, but the gate had closed; and I heard behind me the sound of harps and of voices, singing:
Come hither, kindred spirits, come!
Hail to the mystic two in one!"
Philothea kissed his hand, and her face beamed with joy. She had earnestly desired some promise of their future union; and now she felt the prayer was answered.
"Could it be a dream?" said Paralus: "Methinks I hear the music now."
Philothea smiled affectionately, as she replied: "When sleep hath passed, thy dreams remain."
As she gazed upon him, she observed that the supernatural expression of his eyes had changed; and that his countenence now wore its familiar, household smile. Still she feared to cherish the hope springing in her heart, until he looked toward the place where her attendant sat, motionless and silent, and said, "Milza, will you bring me the lyre?"
The affectionate peasant looked earnestly at Philothea, and wept as she placed it in his hand.
Making an effort to rise, he seemed surprised at his own weakness. They gently raised him, bolstered him with pillows, and told him he had long been ill.
"I have not known it," he replied. "It seems to me I have returned from a far country."
He touched the lyre, and easily recalled the tune which he said he had learned in the Land of Dreams. It was a wild, unearthly strain, with sounds of solemn gladness, that deeply affected Philothea's soul.