The Music Essence

This was the last bead on the rosary of the thoughts which I counted on that evening in the parlor. I had come to the cross– a long hard work to be done–but I did not grudge it. Again, when we had separated for the night, I lay awake, hour after hour, considering at which end I should take hold of it. Then the finger of dreams put itself forth and touched the right place, without its aerial print vanishing.