Then he passed into a strange and moveless quiet of mind and body.

Many a time in days gone by--far-off days--had he sat as he was doing now, feeling his mind pass into a soft, comforting quiet, absorbed in a sensation of existence, as it were between waking and sleeping, where doors opened to new experience and understanding, where the mind seemed to loose itself from the bonds of human necessity and find a freer air.
Now, as he sat as still as the stone in the walls around him, he was conscious of a vision forming itself before his eyes.

At first it was indefinite, vague, without clear form, but at last it became a room dimly outlined, delicately veiled, as it were.

Then it seemed, not that the mist cleared, but that his eyes became stronger, and saw through the delicate haze; and now the room became wholly, concretely visible.
It was the room in which he had said good-bye to Hylda.

As he gazed like one entranced, he saw a figure rise from a couch, pale, agitated, and beautiful, and come forward, as it were, towards him.