House by the Lock

I fell at last from waking dreams to sleeping ones, hoping dimly, as I slipped over the edge of realities, they might be of Karin. But they were not of her. Hardly had slumber got its hold upon me, when I saw myself by the river, looking down into a swiftly rushing tide. It seemed to be somewhere in the country, though I had little thought for my surroundings; and was conscious as I was watching anxiously for the appearance of some object, whose nature I did not accurately know. It had been daylight in my vision at first…a cold, grey, wintry daylight…but suddenly night fell, with the rapidity all changes come and go in dreamland, and the only light was a spot of phosphorescent radiance lay just under the surface of the water, floating gradually down towards me. I knew, in my sleep, my eyes were destined to behold some sight of horror, yet I was bound, in a species of frozen fascination, to the spot where I stood, forced to wait for the oncoming of the light and its revelation of mystery. Slowly it was borne along with the tide, until, having reached a bend in the river opposite the spot where I was standing, it ceased to move. I stooped down and saw the pale light shone forth from a great white diamond on the finger of a dead man’s hand. The body was faintly and darkly outlined; even the floating arm might also have been a floating mass of blackened river weed; but the hand was white as alabaster, and as I bent over it, staring down, one of the fingers moved and beckoned. Then I woke with a loud cry “Harvey!”