The cold had soothed every care, dissolved every pain, comforted every sorrow.

COMFORTED?
Nay; sorrow was swallowed up in the life drawing nigh to restore every good and lovely thing a hundredfold! I lay at peace, full of the quietest expectation, breathing the damp odours of Earth's bountiful bosom, aware of the souls of primroses, daisies and snowdrops, patiently waiting in it for the Spring.
How convey the delight of that frozen, yet conscious sleep! I had no more to stand up! had only to lie stretched out and still! How cold I was, words cannot tell; yet I grew colder and colder--and welcomed the cold yet more and more.

I grew continuously less conscious of myself, continuously more conscious of bliss, unimaginable yet felt.

I had neither made it nor prayed for it: it was mine in virtue of existence! and existence was mine in virtue of a Will that dwelt in mine.
Then the dreams began to arrive--and came crowding .-- I lay naked on a snowy peak.

The white mist heaved below me like a billowy sea.