Twilight would settle over
the field again, and night, following, would find him as she had left
him, prone upon his face, with outstretched arms. For he would be
dead--dead--dead--and at rest!
But the end had not yet come. Ere he had quite sunk into insensibility,
he was conscious of a feeling within him, as if some one were
pulling--pulling at his heart, with a force benign and loving, yet
strong as death itself. He staggered to his feet, and, stumbling as he
walked, set his face against the cold and cheerless sky once more. The
pulling at his heart-strings seemed to draw him steadily in one certain
direction; he traversed acres of field and pasture-land blind and
insensible to every thing save this mysterious guide. In his weak and
exhausted state his spiritual perceptions were doubtless less incumbered
than when he was in full possession of his strength. So he was drawn
undeviatingly on and on, until, unexpectedly, he found himself in a road
again. Then he recognized that it was Sophie's spirit which had rescued
him from death and failure. He had unconsciously made the short cut
across the fields, which he had noticed and decided not to attempt when
examining the map. He had saved five miles in distance, equal to fully
an hour in time.
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