Before she answered, that sweet, puckered look came into her forehead,
which Arthur, I call him Arthur from her habit, says he loves, and
indeed, I don't wonder that he does. Then she went on in a
half-dreaming kind of way, as if trying to recall it to herself.
"I didn't quite dream, but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted to
be here in this spot. I don't know why, for I was afraid of something,
I don't know what. I remember, though I suppose I was asleep, passing
through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by,
and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling. The
whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once, as
I went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and
dark with red eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very
sweet and very bitter all around me at once. And then I seemed sinking
into deep green water, and there was a singing in my ears, as I have
heard there is to drowning men, and then everything seemed passing away
from me. My soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the
air. I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under
me, and then there was a sort of agonizing feeling, as if I were in an
earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you
do it before I felt you."
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