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How
poignant
,
then
,
must
have
been
the
grief
with
which
,
after
some
years
,
I
beheld
my
well-grounded
expectations
take
wings
to
themselves
and
fly
away
!
Without
Ligeia
I
was
but
as
a
child
groping
benighted
.
Her
presence
,
her
readings
alone
,
rendered
vividly
luminous
the
many
mysteries
of
the
transcendentalism
in
which
we
were
immersed
.
Wanting
the
radiant
lustre
of
her
eyes
,
letters
,
lambent
and
golden
,
grew
duller
than
Saturnian
lead
.
And
now
those
eyes
shone
less
and
less
frequently
upon
the
pages
over
which
I
pored
.
Ligeia
grew
ill
.
The
wild
eyes
blazed
with
a
too
--
too
glorious
effulgence
;
the
pale
fingers
became
of
the
transparent
waxen
hue
of
the
grave
,
and
the
blue
veins
upon
the
lofty
forehead
swelled
and
sank
impetuously
with
the
tides
of
the
gentle
emotion
.
I
saw
that
she
must
die
--
and
I
struggled
desperately
in
spirit
with
the
grim
Azrael
.
And
the
struggles
of
the
passionate
wife
were
,
to
my
astonishment
,
even
more
energetic
than
my
own
.
There
had
been
much
in
her
stern
nature
to
impress
me
with
the
belief
that
,
to
her
,
death
would
have
come
without
its
terrors
;
--
but
not
so
.
Words
are
impotent
to
convey
any
just
idea
of
the
fierceness
of
resistance
with
which
she
wrestled
with
the
Shadow
.
I
groaned
in
anguish
at
the
pitiable
spectacle
.
would
have
soothed
--
I
would
have
reasoned
;
but
,
in
the
intensity
of
her
wild
desire
for
life
--
for
life
--
but
for
life
--
solace
and
reason
were
the
uttermost
folly
.
Yet
not
until
the
last
instance
,
amid
the
most
convulsive
writhings
of
her
fierce
spirit
,
was
shaken
the
external
placidity
of
her
demeanor
.
Her
voice
grew
more
gentle
--
grew
more
low
--
yet
I
would
not
wish
to
dwell
upon
the
wild
meaning
of
the
quietly
uttered
words
.
My
brain
reeled
as
I
hearkened
entranced
,
to
a
melody
more
than
mortal
--
to
assumptions
and
aspirations
which
mortality
had
never
before
known
.
That
she
loved
me
I
should
not
have
doubted
;
and
I
might
have
been
easily
aware
that
,
in
a
bosom
such
as
hers
,
love
would
have
reigned
no
ordinary
passion
.
But
in
death
only
,
was
I
fully
impressed
with
the
strength
of
her
affection
.
For
long
hours
,
detaining
my
hand
,
would
she
pour
out
before
me
the
overflowing
of
a
heart
whose
more
than
passionate
devotion
amounted
to
idolatry
.
How
had
I
deserved
to
be
so
blessed
by
such
confessions
?
--
how
had
I
deserved
to
be
so
cursed
with
the
removal
of
my
beloved
in
the
hour
of
her
making
them
,
But
upon
this
subject
I
can
not
bear
to
dilate
.
Let
me
say
only
,
that
in
Ligeia
's
more
than
womanly
abandonment
to
a
love
,
alas
!
all
unmerited
,
all
unworthily
bestowed
,
I
at
length
recognized
the
principle
of
her
longing
with
so
wildly
earnest
a
desire
for
the
life
which
was
now
fleeing
so
rapidly
away
.
It
is
this
wild
longing
--
it
is
this
eager
vehemence
of
desire
for
life
--
but
for
life
--
that
I
have
no
power
to
portray
--
no
utterance
capable
of
expressing
.
At
high
noon
of
the
night
in
which
she
departed
,
beckoning
me
,
peremptorily
,
to
her
side
,
she
bade
me
repeat
certain
verses
composed
by
herself
not
many
days
before
.
I
obeyed
her
.
--
They
were
these
:
Lo
!
'
tis
a
gala
night
Within
the
lonesome
latter
years
!
An
angel
throng
,
bewinged
,
bedight
In
veils
,
and
drowned
in
tears
,
Sit
in
a
theatre
,
to
see
