every artery in its body were open, and its huge system
went on filling its vessels from fields and lakes and forests as fast as
they emptied themselves: it could not be blood! I dipped a finger in it,
and at once satisfied myself that it was not. In truth, however it might
have come there, it was a softly murmuring rivulet of water that ran,
without channel, over the grass! But sweet as was its song, I dared not
drink of it; I kept walking on, hoping after the light, and listening to
the familiar sound so long unheard--for that of the hot stream was very
different. The mere wetting of my feet in it, however, had so refreshed
me, that I went on without fatigue till the darkness began to grow
thinner, and I knew the sun was drawing nigh. A few minutes more, and
I could discern, against the pale aurora, the wall-towers of a
city--seemingly old as time itself. Then I looked down to get a sight of
the brook.

It was gone. I had indeed for a long time noted its sound growing
fainter, but at last had ceased to attend to it. I looked back: the
grass in its course lay bent as it had flowed, and here and there
glimmered a small pool. Toward the city, there was no trace of it. Near
where I stood, the flow of its fountain must at least have paused!

Around the city were gardens, growing many sorts of vegetables, hardly
one of which I recognised. I saw no water, no flowers, no sign of
animals. The gardens came very near the walls, but were separated from
them by huge heaps of gravel and refuse thrown from the battlements.

I went up to the nearest gate, and found it but half-closed, nowise
secured, and without guard or sentinel. To judge by its hinges, it could
not be farther opened or shut closer. Passing through, I looked down
a long ancient street. It was utterly silent, and with scarce an
indication in it of life present. Had I come upon a dead city? I turned
and went out again, toiled a long way over the dust-heaps, and crossed
several roads, each leading up to a gate: I would not re-enter until
some of the inhabitants should be stirring.

What was I there for? what did I expect or hope to find? what did I mean
to do?

I must see, if but once more, the woman I had brought to life! I did
not desire her society: she had waked in me frightful suspicions; and
friendship, not to say love, was wildly impossible between us! But her
presence had had a strange influence upon me, and in her presence I
must resist, and at the same