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Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"A Prisoner in Fairyland"


'God bless my soul, I am!' she answered. Their sentences came both
together, and their blues and yellows swam into each other and made a
lovely green. 'It's what I've been trying to do all these years
without knowing it. What a glory! I understand now--understand myself
and you. I see life clearly as a whole. Hooray, hooray!' She glided
nearer to him, her face was beaming.
'Mother's going to explode,' said Monkey in a whisper. But, of course,
everybody 'heard' it; for the faintest whisper of thought sent a
ripple through that sea of delicate colour. The Laugher bent behind
the cupboard to hide her face, and the Gardener by the window stooped
to examine his flower-pots. The Woman of the Haystack drew back a
little into the corridor again, preparatory to another effort to
squeeze through. But Mother, regardless of them all, swam on towards
her husband, wrapped in joy and light as in a garment. Hitherto, in
her body, the nearest she had come to coruscating was once when she
had taken a course of sulphur baths. This was a very different matter.
She fairly glittered.
'We'll never go apart again,' Daddy was telling her. 'This inner
sympathy will last, you know. _He_ did it. It's him we have to thank,'
and he pointed at his cousin. 'It's starlight, of course, he has
brought down into us.


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