 | VII. Visions—A Phantasy |  |
7. VII.
IT had the appearance of a woman with delicate, not Russian, features. Grayish-white, nearly transparent, with scarcely perceptible shading, it reminded me of an alabaster vase, and once more seemed suddenly, strangely familiar to me.
"May I talk to you?" I asked it.
"Speak."
"I see a ring on your finger. You have lived on earth then, have been married?"
I stopped, but there was no answer.
"What is your name, or rather what was your name?"
"You may call me Ellis."
"Ellis! That is an English name. Are you an Englishwoman? Have you known me before?"
"No."
"Why have you appeared to me then?"
"I love you."
"Well—does this satisfy you?"
"Yes; we are flying and circling together in pure space."
"Ellis!" I cried, "can it be that you are a lost soul?"
My companion's head sank. "I do not understand," she whispered.
"I conjure you in the name of God"—I began.
"What are you saying?" she asked, bewildered. And I fancied that the arm that surrounded me like a chill girdle, trembled slightly.
"Do not fear, my beloved," Ellis said, "do not fear." Her face turned to mine and approached it closely, and I felt a curious sensation on my lips, like the prick of a fine needle.
| VII. Visions—A Phantasy | |