LILITH A Fantasy Novel By George MacDonald - online book

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I grew aware of existence, aware also of the profound, the infinite cold. I was intensely blessed—more blessed, I know, than my heart, imagining, can now recall. I could not think of warmth with the least suggestion of pleasure. I knew that I had enjoyed it, but could not remember how. The cold had soothed every care, dissolved every pain, comforted every sorrow. Comforted ? Nay ; sorrow was swallowed up in the life drawing nigh to restore every good and lovely thing a hundredfold ! I lay at peace, full of the quietest ex­pectation, breathing the damp odours of Earth's bounti­ful bosom, aware of the souls of primroses, daisies and snowdrops, patiently waiting in it for the Spring.
How convey the delight of that frozen, yet con­scious sleep ! I had no more to stand up! had only to lie stretched out and still! How cold I was, words cannot tell; yet I grew colder and colder—and welcomed the cold yet more and more. I grew con­tinuously less conscious of myself, continuously more conscious of bliss, unimaginable yet felt. I had neither made it nor prayed for it: it was mine in virtue of exist­ence ! and existence was mine in virtue of a Will that dwelt in mine.
Then the dreams began to arrive—and came crowd-
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