Philosophical Letters: A Phantom Lover (Vernon Lee)

I found myself suddenly transported into the middle of Alice Oke’s room. It was decorated in the Victorian style, with a large window overlooking the estate’s garden, framed by heavy curtains embroidered in gold with the family crest.

Alice was undeniably beautiful and captivating. I soon noticed that she held a small, battered book—its cover worn, its pages crumpled, and a few even coming loose.

Alice looked at me. She did not scream; instead, she offered a gentle smile, recognizing me as a friend of Christopher’s.

I asked if I might examine the little book, suggesting it was in dire need of restoration, and mentioned that my primary pastimes included bookbinding and the study of Gothic and uncial scripts.

I discreetly acquired all the necessary materials for the binding, with Alice remaining by my side the entire time.

We were both struck by the power Christopher’s verses held over our thoughts. I realized he had experienced the very same emotions toward a woman that I once had; his heart, too, had been in turmoil.

Overcome with nervous tension, we stood in silence, breaking into a cold sweat on the verge of collapse. Alice looked straight into my eyes and understood that I, too, had once loved a woman who perished in an accident—and she urged me to live within the past.