I tried to prevent my thoughts from returning to this theme. I directed
them to a thousand things: to the ships--to the landing--to the army--to
the soldiers--to the buttons upon their jackets and the swabs upon their
shoulders--to everything I could think of: all in vain. Back, back,
back! in painful throes it came, and my heart throbbed, and my brain
burned with bitter memories freshly awakened.
I turned and tossed upon my couch for many a long hour. The clock in
the picture struck, and played the same music again and again, still
soothing me as before. Even despair has its moments of respite; and,
worn with fatigue, mental as well as physical, I listened to the sad,
sweet strain, until it died away into my dreams.