employed in the questionable process of
composition. At night he contrived to wake for his strange courtship; and
he had a peculiar ceremony when he got up in the dark and lit his candle.
From a steep and wild hillside, not far form the house, he had cut from
time to time five large boughs of spiked and prickly gorse. He had
brought them into the house, one by one, and had hidden them in the big
box that stood beside his bed. Often he woke up weeping and murmuring
to himself the words of one of his songs, and then when he had lit the
candle, he would draw out the gorse-boughs, and place them on the floor,
and taking off his nightgown, gently lay himself down on the bed of
thorns and spines. Lying on his face, with the candle and the book before
him, he would softly and tenderly repeat the praises of his dear, dear
Annie, and as he turned over page after page, and saw the raised gold of
the majuscules glow and flame in the candle-light, he pressed the thorns
into his flesh. At such moments he tasted in all its acute savor the joy
of physical pain; and after two or three experiences of such delights he
altered his book, making a curious sign in vermilion on the margin of the
passages where he was to inflict on himself this sweet torture. Never
did he fail to wake at the appointed hour, a strong effort of will broke
through all the heaviness of sleep, and he would rise up, joyful though
weeping, and reverently set his thorny bed upon the floor, offering his
pain with his praise. When he had whispered the last word, and had risen
from the ground, his body would be all freckled with drops of blood; he
used to view the marks with pride. Here and there a spine would be left
deep in the flesh, and he would pull these out roughly, tearing through
the skin. On some nights when he had pressed with more fervor on the
thorns his thighs would stream with blood, red beads standing out on the
flesh, and trickling down to his feet. He had some difficulty in washing
away the bloodstains so as not to leave any traces to attract the
attention of the servant; and after a time he returned no more to his bed
when his duty had been accomplished. For a coverlet he had a dark rug, a
good deal worn, and in this he would wrap his naked bleeding body, and
lie down on the hard floor, well content to add an aching rest to the
account of his pleasures. He was covered with scars, and those that
healed during the day were torn open afresh at night; the pal