The memory of the kiss abode with Theron.Like Aaron's rod, it swallowed up one by one all competing thoughts and recollections, and made his brain its slave.
Even as he strode back through the woods to the camp-meeting, it was the kiss that kept his feet in motion, and guided their automatic course.All along the watches of the restless night, it was the kiss that bore him sweet company, and wandered with him from one broken dream of bliss to another.Next day, it was the kiss that made of life for him a sort of sunlit wonderland.
He preached his sermon in the morning, and took his appointed part in the other services of afternoon and evening, apparently to everybody's satisfaction:
to him it was all a vision.
When the beautiful full moon rose, this Sunday evening, and glorified the clearing and the forest with its mellow harvest radiance, he could have groaned with the burden of his joy.He went out alone into the light, and bared his head to it, and stood motionless for a long time.
In all his life, he had never been impelled as powerfully toward earnest and soulful thanksgiving.The impulse to kneel, there in the pure, tender moonlight, and lift up offerings of praise to God, kept uppermost in his mind.
Some formless resignation restrained him from the act itself, but the spirit of it hallowed his mood.
He gazed up at the broad luminous face of the satellite.
"You are our God," he murmured."Hers and mine!
You are the most beautiful of heavenly creatures, as she is of the angels on earth.I am speechless with reverence for you both."It was not until the camp-meeting broke up, four days later, and Theron with the rest returned to town, that the material aspects of what had happened, and might be expected to happen, forced themselves upon his mind.The kiss was a child of the forest.So long as Theron remained in the camp, the image of the kiss, which was enshrined in his heart and ministered to by all his thoughts, continued enveloped in a haze of sylvan mystery, like a dryad.Suggestions of its beauty and holiness came to him in the odors of the woodland, at the sight of wild flowers and water-lilies.When he walked alone in unfamiliar parts of the forest, he carried about with him the half-conscious idea of somewhere coming upon a strange, hidden pool which mortal eye had not seen before--a deep, sequestered mere of spring-fed waters, walled in by rich, tangled growths of verdure, and bearing upon its virgin bosom only the shadows of the primeval wilderness, and the light of the eternal skies.His fancy dwelt upon some such nook as the enchanted home of the fairy that possessed his soul.The place, though he never found it, became real to him.As he pictured it, there rose sometimes from among the lily-pads, stirring the translucent depths and fluttering over the water's surface drops like gems, the wonderful form of a woman, with pale leaves wreathed in her luxuriant red hair, and a skin which gave forth light.