The Trespasser

'I suppose,' he said to himself for the last time, 'I suppose living too

intensely kills you, more or less.' Then Siegmund forgot. He opened his eyes and saw the night about him.

The moon had escaped from the cloud-pack, and was radiant behind a fine

veil which glistened to her rays, and which was broidered with a

lustrous halo, very large indeed, the largest halo Siegmund had ever

seen. When the little lane turned full towards the moon, it seemed as if

Siegmund and Helena would walk through a large Moorish arch of

horse-shoe shape, the enormous white halo opening in front of them. They

walked on, keeping their faces to the moon, smiling with wonder and a

little rapture, until once mote the little lane curved wilfully, and

they were walking north. Helena observed three cottages crouching under

the hill and under trees to cover themselves from the magic of the

moonlight.

'We certainly did not come this way before,' she said triumphantly. The

idea of being lost delighted her.

Siegmund looked round at the grey hills smeared over with a low, dim

glisten of moon-mist. He could not yet fully realize that he was walking

along a lane in the Isle of Wight. His surroundings seemed to belong to

some state beyond ordinary experience--some place in romance, perhaps,

or among the hills where Brünhild lay sleeping in her large bright halo

of fire. How could it be that he and Helena were two children of London

wandering to find their lodging in Freshwater? He sighed, and looked

again over the hills where the moonlight was condensing in mist

ethereal, frail, and yet substantial, reminding him of the way the manna

must have condensed out of the white moonlit mists of Arabian deserts.

'We may be on the road to Newport,' said Helena presently, 'and the

distance is ten miles.' She laughed, not caring in the least whither they wandered, exulting in

this wonderful excursion! She and Siegmund alone in a glistening

wilderness of night at the back of habited days and nights! Siegmund

looked at her. He by no means shared her exultation, though he

sympathized with it. He walked on alone in his deep seriousness, of

which she was not aware. Yet when he noticed her abandon, he drew her

nearer, and his heart softened with protecting tenderness towards her,

and grew heavy with responsibility.

The fields breathed off a scent as if they were come to life with the

night, and were talking with fragrant eagerness. The farms huddled

together in sleep, and pulled the dark shadow over them to hide from the

supernatural white night; the cottages were locked and darkened. Helena

walked on in triumph through this wondrous hinterland of night, actively

searching for the spirits, watching the cottages they approached,

listening, looking for the dreams of those sleeping inside, in the

darkened rooms. She imagined she could see the frail dream-faces at the

windows; she fancied they stole out timidly into the gardens, and went

running away among the rabbits on the gleamy hill-side. Helena laughed

to herself, pleased with her fancy of wayward little dreams playing with

weak hands and feet among the large, solemn-sleeping cattle. This was

the first time, she told herself, that she had ever been out among the

grey-frocked dreams and white-armed fairies. She imagined herself lying

asleep in her room, while her own dreams slid out down the moonbeams.

She imagined Siegmund sleeping in his room, while his dreams, dark-eyed,

their blue eyes very dark and yearning at night-time, came wandering

over the grey grass seeking her dreams.