Nearer and
nearer it came into the better lighted portion of the stream. It was not
a small animal. The ripples it made were strong, and ran out in long
lines; its strokes were vigorous; the head that I saw grew larger and
larger. Steadily it came on; it reached the spot in the clear light of
the sun. It was the head of a human swimmer. On the side nearest me, I
could see, under the water, the strokes of a dark-clad arm. Above the
water was only a face, turned toward me and upward. A mass of long hair
swept away from it, its blue eyes gazed dreamily into the treetops; for
a moment the sunbeams touched its features. My heart stopped
beating,--it was the face of Sylvia.
Another stroke and it had passed into the shadow. The silvery ripples
came from it to me, losing themselves against the shore. It passed on
and on, away from me. I made one step from behind the tree; then
suddenly stopped. On went the head and upturned face, touched once more
by a gleam of light, and then it disappeared around a little bluff
crowned with a mass of shrubbery and vines. I listened, breathless; the
sounds of the strokes died away. All was still again.
For some minutes I stood, bewildered, dazed, doubting whether I had been
awake or dreaming.
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