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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d3bf4c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50107 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50107) diff --git a/old/50107-0.txt b/old/50107-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a6004d8..0000000 --- a/old/50107-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11887 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Julius LeVallon, by Algernon Blackwood - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Julius LeVallon - An Episode - -Author: Algernon Blackwood - -Release Date: October 1, 2015 [EBook #50107] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIUS LEVALLON *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - -JULIUS LEVALLON - - - - - Julius LeVallon - An Episode - - By - Algernon Blackwood - - _Author of “The Centaur,” “John Silence,” - “The Human Chord,” etc._ - - Cassell and Company, Ltd - London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne - - - First published 1916 - - - TO - M. S-K. - (1906) - - - - -Contents - - - PAGE - _BOOK I_ - SCHOOLDAYS 3 - - _BOOK II_ - EDINBURGH 77 - - _BOOK III_ - THE CHÂLET IN THE JURA MOUNTAINS 149 - - _BOOK IV_ - THE ATTEMPTED RESTITUTION 267 - - - - -Book I - -SCHOOLDAYS - - - - - “_Dream faces bloom around your face - Like flowers upon one stem; - The heart of many a vanished race - Sighs as I look on them._” - A. E. - - - - -Julius LeVallon - -CHAPTER I - - “_Surely death acquires a new and deeper significance when we - regard it no longer as a single and unexplained break in an - unending life, but as part of the continually recurring rhythm - of progress--as inevitable, as natural, and as benevolent as - sleep._”--“Some Dogmas of Religion” (Prof. J. M’Taggart). - - -It was one autumn in the late ’nineties that I found myself at Bâle, -awaiting letters. I was returning leisurely from the Dolomites, where -a climbing holiday had combined pleasantly with an examination of the -geologically interesting Monzoni Valley. When the claims of the latter -were exhausted, however, and I turned my eyes towards the peaks, it -happened that bad weather held permanent possession of the great grey -cliffs and towering pinnacles, and climbing was out of the question -altogether. A world of savage desolation gloomed down upon me through -impenetrable mists; the scouts of winter’s advance had established -themselves upon all possible points of attack; and the whole tossed -wilderness of precipice and scree lay safe, from my assaults at least, -behind a frontier of furious autumn storms. - -Having ample time before my winter’s work in London, I turned my back -upon the unconquered Marmolata and Cimon della Pala, and made my way -slowly, via Bozen and Innsbruck, to Bâle; and it was in the latter -place, where my English correspondence was kind enough to overtake me, -that I found one letter in particular that interested me more than all -the others put together. It bore a Swiss stamp; and the handwriting -caused me a thrill of anticipatory excitement even before I had -consciously recalled the name of the writer. It was addressed before -and behind till there was scarcely room left for a postmark, and it had -journeyed from my chambers to my club, from my club to the university, -and thence, by way of various poste-restantes, from one hotel to -another till, with good luck little short of marvellous, it discovered -me in my room of the Trois Rois Hotel overlooking the Rhine. - -The signature, to which I turned at once before reading the body of the -message, was Julius LeVallon; and as my eye noted the firm and very -individual writing, once of familiar and potent significance in my -life, I was conscious that emotions of twenty years ago woke vigorously -into being, releasing sensations and memories I had thought buried -beyond all effective resurrection. I knew myself swept back to those -hopes and fears that, all these years before, had been--me. The letter -was brief; it ran as follows: - - FRIEND OF A MILLION YEARS,--Should you remember your promise, - given to me at Edinburgh twenty years ago, I write to tell you - that I am ready. Yours, especially in separation, - JULIUS LEVALLON. - -And then followed two lines of instructions how to reach him in the -isolated little valley of the Jura Mountains, on the frontier between -France and Switzerland, whence he wrote. - -The wording startled me; but this surprise, not unmingled with -amusement, gave place immediately to emotions of a deeper and much -more complex order, as I drew an armchair to the window and resigned -myself, half pleasurably, half uneasily, to the flood of memories -that rose from the depths and besieged me with their atmosphere of -half-forgotten boyhood and of early youth. Pleasurably, because my -curiosity was aroused abruptly to a point my dull tutorial existence -now rarely, if ever, knew; uneasily, because these early associations -grouped themselves about the somewhat unearthly figure of a man with -whom once I had been closely intimate, but who had since disappeared -behind a veil of mystery to follow pursuits where danger to body, mind -and soul--it seemed to me--must be his constant attendant. - -For Julius LeVallon, or Julius, as he was known to me in our school -and university days, had been once a name to conjure with; a -personality who evoked for me a world more vast and splendid, horizons -wider, vistas of possibilities more dazzling, than any I have since -known--which have contracted, in fact, with my study of an exact -science to a dwindled universe of pettier scale and measurement;--and -wherein, formerly, with all the terror and delight of vividly imagined -adventure, we moved side by side among strange experiences and -fascinating speculations. - -The name brings back the face and figure of as singular an individual -as I have ever known who, but for my saving streak of common sense and -inability to imagine beyond a certain point, might well have swept me -permanently into his own region of research and curious experiment. -As it was, up to the time when I felt obliged to steer my course away -from him, he found my nature of great assistance in helping him to -reconstruct his detailed mental pictures of the past; we were both “in -the same boat together,” as he constantly assured me--this boat that -travelled down the river of innumerable consecutive lives; and there -can be no doubt that my cautious questionings--lack of perspective, he -termed it--besides checking certain aspects of his conception, saved -us at the same time from results that must have proved damaging to our -reputations, if not injurious actually to our persons, physically and -mentally. Yet that he captured me so completely at the time was due -to an innate sympathy I felt towards his theories, a sympathy that at -times amounted to complete acceptance. I freely admit this sympathy. He -used another word for it, however: he called it Memory. - -As a boy, Julius LeVallon was beyond question one of the strangest -beings that ever wore a mortar-board, or lent his soul and body to the -conventionalities of an English private school. - -I recall, as of yesterday, my first sight of him, and the vivid -impression, startling as of shock, he then produced: the sensitive, -fine face, pallid as marble, the thatch of tumbling dark hair, and the -eyes of changing greeny blue that shone unlike any English eyes I have -ever looked upon before or since. “Giglamps” the other boys called -them, of course; but when you caught them through the black hair that -straggled over the high white forehead, they somehow conveyed the -impression of twin lanterns, now veiled, now clear, seen through the -tangled shadows of a twilight wood. Unlike the eyes of most dreamers, -they looked keenly within, rather than vaguely beyond; and I recall to -this day the sharp, half disquieting effect produced upon my mind as a -new boy the first instant I saw them--that here was an individual who -somehow stood aloof from the mob of noisy, mischief-loving youngsters -all about him, and had little in common with the world in which this -school was a bustling, practical centre of educational energy. - -Nor is it that I recall that first sight with the added judgment of -later years. I insist that this moment of his entrance into my life -was accompanied by an authentic thrill of wonder that announced his -presence to my nerves, or even deeper, to my very soul. My sympathetic -nervous system was instinctively aware of him. He came upon me with a -kind of rush for which the proper word is startling; there was nothing -gradual about it; its nature was electrifying; and in some sense he -certainly captivated me, for, immediately upon knowing him, this -opening wonder merged in a deep affection of a kind so intimate, so -fearless, so familiar, that it seemed to me that I must, somewhere, -somehow, have known him always. For years to come it bound me to his -side. To the end, moreover, I never quite lost something of that -curious first impression, that he moved, namely, in an outer world -that did not claim him; that those luminous, inward-peering eyes saw -but dimly the objects we call real; that he saw them as counters in -some trivial game he deemed it not worth while to play; that while, -perforce, he used them like the rest of us, their face-value was as -naught compared to what they symbolised; that, in a word, he stood -apart from the vulgar bustle of ordinary ambitious life, and above -it, in a region by himself where he was forever questing issues of -infinitely greater value. - -For a boy of fifteen, as I then was, this seems much to have discerned. -At the time I certainly phrased it all less pompously in my own -small mind. But that first sense of shock remains: I yearned to know -him, to stand where he stood, to be exactly like him. And our speedy -acquaintance did not overwhelm me as it ought to have done--for a -singular reason; I felt oddly that somehow or other I had the _right_ -to know him instantly. - -Imagination, no doubt, was stronger in me at that time than it is -to-day; my mind more speculative, my soul, perhaps, more sensitively -receptive. At any rate the insignificant and very ordinary personality -I own at present has since largely recovered itself. If Julius LeVallon -was one in a million, I know that I can never expect to be more than -one _of_ a million. And it is something in middle age to discover that -one can appreciate the exceptional in others without repining at its -absence in oneself. - -Julius was two forms above me, and for a day or two after my arrival -at mid-term, it appears he was in the sick-room with one of those -strange nervous illnesses that came upon him through life at intervals, -puzzling the doctors and alarming those responsible for his well-being; -accompanied, too, by symptoms that to-day would be recognised, I -imagine, as evidence of a secondary personality. But on the third -or fourth day, just as afternoon “Preparation” was beginning and we -were all shuffling down upon our wooden desks with a clatter of books -and pens, the door beside the great blackboard opened, and a figure -stole into the room, tall, slender, and unsubstantial as a shadow, yet -intensely real. - -“Hullo! Giglamps back again!” whispered the boy on my left, and -another behind me sniggered audibly “Jujubes”--thus Julius was -sometimes paraphrased--“tired of shamming at last!” Then Hurrish, the -master in charge, whose head had been hidden a moment behind his desk, -closed the lid and turned. He greeted the boy with a few kind words -of welcome which, of course, I have forgotten; yet, so strange are -the freaks of memory, and so instantaneous and prophetic the first -intuitions of sympathy or aversion, that I distinctly recall that I -liked Hurrish for his words, and was grateful to him for his kindly -attitude towards a boy whose very existence had hitherto been unknown -to me. Already, before I knew his name, Julius LeVallon meant, at any -rate, this to me. - -But from that instant the shadow became most potently real substance. -The boy moved forward to his desk, looked about him as though to miss -no face, and almost immediately across that big room full of heads and -shoulders saw--myself. - -That something of psychical import passed swiftly between us is -indubitable, for while Julius visibly started, pausing a moment in his -walk and staring as though he would swallow me with his eyes, there -flashed upon my own mind a thought so vivid, so precise, that it took -actual sentence form, and before I could possibly have imagined or -invented an idea so uncorrelated with a previous experience of any kind -at all, I heard myself murmuring: “He’s found me...!” - -It seemed audible, at least. I hid my face a second, thinking I had -spoken it aloud. No one looked at me, however; Hurrish made no comment. -My name did not sound terribly across the class-room. The sentence, -after all, had remained a thought. But that it leaped into my mind at -all seems to me now, as it did at the time, significant. - -His eyes rested for the fraction of a second on my face as he crossed -the floor, and I felt--but how describe it intelligibly?--as though -a wind had risen and caught me up into another place where there was -great light and an impression of vast distances. Hypnotic we should -call it to-day; hypnotic let it be. I can only affirm how, with that -single glance from a boy but slightly older than myself, seen then for -the first time, and with no word yet spoken, there came back to me a -larger sense of life, and of the meaning of life. I became aware of an -extended world, of wonder, movement, adventure on a scale immensely -grander than anything I found about me among known external things. But -I became aware--“again.” In earlier childhood I had known this bigger -world. It suddenly flashed over me that time stretched _behind_ me as -well as before--and that I stretched back with it. Something scared -me, I remember, with a faint stirring as of old pains and pleasures -suffered long ago. The face and eyes that called into being these -fancies, so oddly touched with alarm, were like those seen sometimes in -dreams that never venture into daily life--things of composite memory, -no doubt, that bring with them an atmosphere, and a range of query, -nothing in normal waking life can even suggest. - -He passed to his place in front of Hurrish’s desk among the upper -forms, and a sea of tousled heads intervened to hide him from my sight; -but as he went the afternoon sunshine fell through the unfrosted half -of the window, and in later years--now, in fact, as I hold his letter -in my hand and re-collect these vanished memories--I still see him -coming into my life with the golden sunlight about his head and his -face wrapped in its halo. I see it reflected in the lamping eyes, -glistening on the mop of dark hair, shining on the pallid face with -its high expression of other-worldliness and yearning remote from the -chaos of modern life.... It was a long time before I managed to bring -myself down again to parse the verbs in that passage of _Hecuba_, for, -if anything, I have understated rather than exaggerated the effect -that this first sight of Julius LeVallon produced upon my feelings and -imagination. Some one, lost through ages but ever seeking me, rose -suddenly and spoke: “So here you are, at last! I’ve found you. We’ve -found each other again!” - -To say more could only be to elaborate the memory with knowledge -that came later, and thus to distort the first simple and profound -impression. I merely wish to present, as it occurred, the picture of -this wizard face appearing suddenly above the horizon of my small -schoolboy world, staring with that deep suggestion of having travelled -down upon me from immense distances _behind_, bringing fugitive and -ghostly sensations of things known long ago, and hinting very faintly, -as I have tried to describe, of vanished pains and alarms--yet of -sufferings so ancient that to touch them even with the tenderest of -words is to make them crumble into dust and disappear. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - “_‘Body,’ observes Plotinus, ‘is the true river of Lethe.’ - The memory of definite events in former lives can hardly come - easily to a consciousness allied with brain.... Bearing in mind - also that even our ordinary definite memories slowly become - indefinite, and that most drop altogether out of notice, we - shall attach no importance to the naïve question, ‘Why does not - Smith remember who he was before?’ It would be an exceedingly - strange fact if he did, a new Smith being now in evidence along - with a new brain and nerves. Still, it is conceivable that such - remembrances occasionally arise. Cerebral process, conscious or - subconscious, is psychical._”--“Individual and Reality” (E. D. - Fawcett). - - -Looking back upon this entrance, not from the present long interval -of twenty years, but from a point much nearer to it, and consequently -more sympathetically in touch with my own youth, I must confess that -his presence--his arrival, as it seemed--threw a momentary clear light -of electric sharpness upon certain “inner scenery” that even at this -period of my boyhood was already beginning to fade away into dimness -and “mere imagining.” Which brings me to a reluctant confession I feel -bound to make. I say “reluctant,” because at the present time I feel -intellectually indisposed to regard that scenery as real. Its origin I -know not; its reality at the time I alone can vouch for. Many children -have similar experiences, I believe; with myself it was exceptionally -vivid. - -Ever since I could remember, my childhood days were charged with -it--haunting and stimulating recollections that were certainly derived -from nothing in this life, nor owed their bright reality to anything -seen or read or heard. They influenced all my early games, my secret -make-believe, my magical free hours after lessons. I dreamed them, -played them, lived them, and nothing delighted me so much as to be -alone on half-holidays in summer out of doors, or on winter evenings -in the empty schoolroom, so that I might reconstruct for myself the -gorgeous detail of their remote, elusive splendour. For the presence -of others, even of my favourite playmates, ruined their reality with -criticising questions, and a doubt as to their genuineness was an -intrusion upon their sacredness my youthful heart desired to prevent -by--killing it at once. Their nature it would be wearisome to detail, -but I may mention that their grandeur was of somewhat mixed authority, -and that if sometimes I was a general like Gideon, against whom -Amalekites and such like were the merest insects, at others I was a -High Priest in some huge, dim-sculptured Temple whose magnificence -threw Moses and the Bible tabernacles into insignificance. - -Yet it was upon these glories, and upon this sacred inner scenery, that -the arrival of Julius LeVallon threw a new daylight of stark intensity. -He made them live again. His coming made them awfully real. They had -been fading. Going to school was, it seemed, a finishing touch of -desolating destruction. I felt obliged to give them up and be a man. -Thus ignored, disowned, forgotten of set deliberation, they sank out of -sight and were prepared to disappear, when suddenly his arrival drew -the entire panorama delightfully into the great light of day again. His -presence re-touched, re-coloured the entire series. He made them true. - -It would take too long, besides inviting the risk of unconscious -invention, were I to attempt in detail the description of our growing -intimacy. Moreover, I believe it is true that the intimacy did not grow -at all, but suddenly, incomprehensibly _was_. At any rate, I remember -with distinctness our first conversation. The hour’s “prep.” was over, -and I was in the yard, lonely and disconsolate as a new boy, watching -the others playing tip-and-run against the high enclosing wall, when -Julius LeVallon came up suddenly behind me, and I turned expectantly at -the sound of his almost stealthy step. He came softly. He was smiling. -In the falling dusk he looked more shadow-like than ever. He wore the -school cap at the back of his head, where it clung to his tumbling -hair like some absurd disguise circumstances forced him to adopt for -the moment. - -And my heart gave a bound of excitement at the sound of his voice. In -some strange way the whole thing seemed familiar. I had expected this. -It had happened before. And, very swiftly, a fragment of that inner -scenery, laid like a theatre-inset against the playground of to-day, -flashed through the depths of me, then vanished. - -“What is your name?” he asked me, very gently. - -“Mason,” I told him, conscious that I flushed and almost stammered. -“John Mason. I’m a new boy.” Then, although my brother, formerly Head -of the school, had already gone on to Winchester, I added “Mason -secundus.” My outer self felt shy, but another, deeper self realised -a sense of satisfaction that was pleasure. I was aware of a desire to -seize his hand and utter something of this bigger, happier sensation. -The strength of school convention, however, prevented anything of the -sort. I was at first embarrassed by the attention of a bigger boy, and -showed it. - -He looked closely into my face a moment, as though searching for -something, but so penetratingly that I felt his eyes actually -inside me. The information I had given did not seem to interest him -particularly. At the same time I was conscious that his near presence -affected me in a curious way, for I lost the feeling that this -attention to a new boy was flattering and unusual, and became aware -that there was something of great importance he wished to say to me. It -was all right and natural. There was something he desired to find out -and know: it was not my name. A vague yet profound emotion troubled me. - -He spoke then, slowly, earnestly; the voice gentle and restrained, but -the expression in the eyes and face so grave, almost so solemn, that it -seemed an old and experienced man who addressed me, instead of a boy -barely sixteen years of age. - -“Have you then ... quite ... forgotten ... everything?” he asked, -making dramatic pauses thus between the words. - -And, singular in its abruptness though the question was, there flashed -upon me even while he uttered it, a sensation, a mood, a memory--I -hardly know what to call it--that made the words intelligible. It -dawned upon me that I _had_ “forgotten ... everything ... quite”: -crowded, glorious, ancient things, that somehow or other I ought -to have remembered. A faint sense of guiltiness accompanied the -experience. I felt disconcerted, half ashamed. - -“I’m afraid ... I have,” came my faltering reply. Though bewildered, I -raised my eyes to his. I looked straight at him. “I’m--Mason secundus -... now....” - -His eyes, I saw, came up, as it were, from their deep searching. They -rested quietly upon my own, with a reassuring smile that made them -kindly and understanding as those of my own father. He put his hand on -my shoulder in a protective fashion that gave me an intense desire to -remember all the things he wished me to remember, and thus to prove -myself worthy of his interest and attention. The desire in me was -ardent, serious. Its fervency, moreover, seemed to produce an effect, -for immediately there again rose before my inner vision that flashing -scenery I had “imagined” as a child. - -Possibly something in my face betrayed the change. His expression, at -any rate, altered instantly as though he recognised what was happening. - -“You’re Mason secundus now,” he said more quickly. “I know that. -But--can you remember nothing of the Other Places? Have you quite -forgotten when--we were together?” - -He stopped abruptly, repeating the last three words almost beneath -his breath. His eyes rested on mine with such pleasure and expectancy -in them that for the moment the world I stood in melted out, the -playground faded, the shouts of cricket ceased, and I seemed to forget -entirely who or where I was. It was as though other times, other -feelings, other scenery battled against the actual present, claiming -me, sweeping me away, extending the sense of personal identity towards -a previous series. Seductive the sensation was beyond belief, yet -at the same time disturbing. I wholly ignored the flattery of this -kindness from an older boy. A series of vivid pictures, more familiar -than the nursery, more distant than a dream of years ago, swam up -from some inner region of my being like memories of places, people, -adventures I had actually lived and seen. The near presence of Julius -LeVallon drew them upwards in a stream above the horizon of some -temporarily veiled oblivion. - -“... in the Other Places,” his voice continued with a droning sound -that was like the sea a long way off, or like wind among the branches -of a tree. - -And something in me leaped automatically to acknowledge the truth I -suddenly realised. - -“Yes, yes!” I cried, no shyness in me any more, and plunged into myself -to seize the flying pictures and arrest their sliding, disappearing -motion. “I remember, oh, I remember ... a whole lot of ... dreams ... -or things like made-up adventures I once had ages and ages ago ... -with ...” I hesitated a second. A rising and inexplicable excitement -stopped my words. I was shaking all over. “... with you!” I added -boldly, or rather the words seemed to add themselves inevitably. “It -was with you, sir?” - -He nodded his head slightly and smiled. I think the “sir,” sounding so -incongruous, caused the smile. - -“Yes,” he said in his soft, low voice, “it was with me. Only they were -not dreams. They were real. There’s no good denying what’s real; it -only prevents your remembering properly.” - -The way he said it held conviction as of sunrise, but anyhow denial in -myself seemed equally to have disappeared. Deep within me a sense of -reality answered willingly to his own. - -“And myself?” he went on gently yet eagerly at the same time, his eyes -searching my own. “Don’t you remember--me? Have I, too, gone quite -beyond recall?” - -But with truth my answer came at once: - -“Something ... perhaps ... comes back to me ... a little,” I stammered. -For while aware of a keen sensation that I talked with someone I knew -as well as I knew my own father, nothing at the moment seemed wholly -real to me except his sensitive, pale face with the large and beautiful -eyes so keenly peering, and the tangled hair escaping under that -ridiculous school cap. The pine trees in the cricket-field rose into -the fading sky behind him, and I remember being puzzled to determine -where his hair stopped and the feathery branches began. - -“... carrying the spears up the long stone steps in the sunshine,” -his voice murmured on with a sound like running water, “and the old -man in the robe of yellow standing at the top ... and orchards below, -all white and pink with blossoms dropping in the wind ... and miles -of plain in blue distances far away, the river winding ... and birds -fishing in the shallow places ...” - -The picture flashed into my mind. I saw it. I remembered it in detail -as easily as any childhood scene of a few years ago, but yet through -a blur of summery haze and at the end of a stupendous distance that -reduced the scale to lilliputian proportions. I looked down the wrong -end of a telescope at it all. The appalling distance--and something -else as well I was at a loss to define--frightened me a little. - -“I ... my people, I mean ... live in Sussex,” I remember saying -irrelevantly in my bewilderment, “and my father’s a clergyman.” It was -the upper part of me that said it, no doubt anticipating the usual -question “What’s your father?” My voice had a lifeless, automatic sound. - -“That’s now,” LeVallon interrupted almost impatiently. “It’s thinking -of these things that hides the others.” - -Then he smiled, leaning against the wall beside me while the sunset -flamed upon the clouds above us and the tide of noisy boys broke, -tumbling about our feet. I see those hurrying clouds, crimson and gold, -that scrimmage of boys in the school playground, and Julius LeVallon -gazing into my eyes, his expression rapt and eager--I see it now across -the years as plainly as I saw that flash of inner scenery far, far -away. I even hear his low voice speaking. The whole, strange mood that -rendered the conversation not too incredibly fantastic at the time -comes over me again as I think of it. - -He went on in that murmuring tone, putting true words to the pictures -that rolled clearly through me: - -“... and the burning sunlight on the white walls of the building ... -the cool deep shadows where we talked and slept ... the shouting of -the armies in the distance ... with the glistening of the spears and -shining shields ...” - -Mixed curiously together, kaleidoscopic, running one into the other -without sharp outlines of beginning or end, the scenes fled past me -like the pages of a coloured picture-book. I saw figures plainly, more -plainly than the scenery beyond. The man in the yellow robe looked -close into my eyes, so close, indeed, I could almost hear him speak. -He vanished, and a woman took his place. Her back was to me. She stood -motionless, her hands upraised, and a gesture of passionate entreaty -about her plunged me suddenly into a sea of whirling, poignant drama -that had terror in it. The blood rushed to my head. My heart beat -violently. I knew a moment of icy horror--that she would turn--and I -should recognise her face--worse, that she would recognise my own. -I experienced actual fear, a shrinking dread of something that was -nameless. Escape was impossible, I could neither move nor speak, nor -alter any single detail in this picture which--most terrifying of -all--I knew contained somewhere too--myself. But she did not turn; I -did not see her face. She vanished like the rest ... and I next saw -quick, running figures with skins of reddish brown, circlets of iron -about their foreheads and red tassels hanging from their loin cloths. -The scene had shifted. - -“... when we lit the signal fires upon the hills,” the voice of -LeVallon broke in softly, looking over his shoulder lest we be -disturbed, “and lay as sentinels all night beside the ashes ... till -the plain showed clearly in the sunrise with the encampments marked -over it like stones ...” - -I saw the blue plain fading into distance, and across it a -swiftly-moving cloud of dust that was ominous in character, presaging -attack. Again the scene shifted noiselessly as a picture on a screen, -and a deserted village slid before me, with small houses built of -undressed stone, and roomy paddocks, abandoned to the wild deer from -the hills. I smelt the keen, fresh air and the scent of wild flowers. -A figure, carrying a small blue stick, passed with tearing rapidity up -the empty street. - -“... when you were a Runner to the tribe,” the voice stepped curiously -in from a world outside it all, “carrying warnings to the House of -Messengers ... and I held the long night-watches upon the passes, -signalling with the flaming torches to those below ...” - -“But so far away, so dim, so awfully small, that I can hardly----” - -The world of to-day broke in upon my voice, and I stopped, not quite -aware of what I had been about to say. Martin, the Fourth Form and -Mathematical Master, had come up unobserved by either of us, and was -eyeing LeVallon and myself somewhat curiously. It was afterwards, of -course, that I discovered who the interrupter was. I only knew at the -moment that I disliked the look of him, and also that I felt somehow -guilty. - -“New boy in tow, LeVallon?” he remarked casually, the tone and manner -betraying ill-concealed disapproval. The change of key, both in its -character and its abruptness, seemed ugly, almost dreadful. It was so -trivial. - -“Yes, sir. It’s young Mason.” LeVallon answered at once, touching his -cap respectfully, but by no means cordially. - -“Ah,” said the master dryly. “He’s fortunate to find a friend so soon. -Tell him we look to him to follow his brother’s example and become Head -of the school one day perhaps.” I got the impression, how I cannot say, -that Martin stood in awe of LeVallon, was even a little afraid of him -as well. He would gladly have “scored off” him if it were possible. -There was a touch of spite in his voice, perhaps. - -“We knew one another before, sir,” I heard Julius say quietly, as -though his attention to a new boy required explanation--to Martin. - -I could hardly believe my ears. This extraordinary boy was indeed in -earnest. He had not the smallest intention of saying what was untrue. -He said what he actually believed. I saw him touch his cap again in -the customary manner, and Martin, the under-master, shrugging his -shoulders, passed on without another word. It is difficult to describe -the dignity LeVallon put into that trivial gesture of conventional -respect, or in what way Martin gained a touch of honour from it that -really was no part of his commonplace personality. Yet I can remember -perfectly well that this was so, and that I deemed LeVallon more -wonderful than ever from that moment for being able to exact deference -even from an older man who was a Form Master and a Mathematical Master -into the bargain. For LeVallon, it seemed to me, had somehow positively -dismissed him. - -Yet, to such extent did the pictures in my mind dominate the playground -where our bodies stood, that I almost expected to see the master go -down the “long stone steps towards the sunny orchard below”--instead -of walk up and cuff young Green who was destroying the wall by picking -out the mortar from between the bricks. That wall, and the white wall -in the dazzling sunshine seemed, as it were, to interpenetrate each -other. The break of key caused by the interruption, however, was barely -noticeable. The ugliness vanished instantly. Julius was speaking again -as though nothing had happened. He had been speaking for some little -time before I took in what the words were: - -“... with the moonlight gleaming on the bosses of the shields ... the -sleet of flying arrows ... and the hissing of the javelins ...” - -The battle-scene accompanying the sentence caught me so vividly, so -fiercely even, that I turned eagerly to him, all shyness gone, and let -my words pour out impetuously as they would, and as they willy-nilly -had to. For this scene, more than all the others, touched some intimate -desire, some sharp and keen ambition that burned in me to-day. My -whole heart was wrapped up in soldiering. I had chosen a soldier’s -career instinctively, even before I knew quite the meaning of it. - -“Yes, rather!” I cried with enthusiasm, staring so close into his face -that I could have counted the tiny hairs on the smooth pale skin, “and -that narrow ledge high up inside the dome where the prisoners stood -until they dropped on to the spear-heads in the ground beneath, and how -some jumped at once, and others stood all day, and--and how there was -only just room to balance by pressing the feet sideways against the -curving wall...?” - -It all rushed at me as though I had witnessed the awful scene a week -ago. Something inside me shook again with horror at the sight of the -writhing figures impaled upon the spears below. I almost felt a sharp -and actual pain pierce through my flesh. I overbalanced. It was my turn -to fall ... - -A sudden smile broke swiftly over LeVallon’s face, as he held my arm a -moment with a strength that almost hurt. - -“Ah, you remember _that!_ And little wonder----” he began, then stopped -abruptly and released his grip. The cricket ball came bouncing to -our feet across the yard, with insistent cries of “Thank you, ball! -Thank you, LeVallon!” impossible to ignore. He did not finish the -sentence, and I know not what shrinking impulse of suffering and -pain in me it was that felt relieved he had not done so. Instead, he -stooped good-naturedly, picked up the ball, and flung it back to the -importunate cricketers; and as he did so I noticed that his action was -unlike that of any English boy I had ever seen. He did not throw it as -men usually throw a ball, but used a violent yet graceful motion that I -vaguely remembered to have seen somewhere before. It perplexed me for -a moment--then, suddenly, out of that deeper part of me so strangely -now astir, the hint of explanation came. It was the action of a man who -flings a spear or javelin. - -A bell rang over our heads with discordant clangour, and we were swept -across the yard with the rush of boys. The transition was abrupt and -even painful--as when one comes into the noisy street from a theatre -of music, lights and colour. A strong effort was necessary to recover -balance and pull myself together. Until we reached the red-brick porch, -however, LeVallon kept beside me, and his hurried last phrases, as we -parted, were the most significant of all. It seemed as if he kept them -for the end, although no such intention was probably in his thought. -They left me quivering through and through as I heard them fall from -his lips so quietly. - -His face was shining. The words came from his inmost heart: - -“Well, anyhow,” he said beneath his breath lest he might be overheard, -“I’ve found you, and we’ve found each other--at last. That’s the great -thing, isn’t it? No one here understands all that. Now, we can go on -together where we left off before; and, having found you, I expect I -shall soon find her as well. For we’re all three together, and--sooner -or later--there’s no escaping anything.” - -I remember that I staggered. The hand I put out to steady myself -scraped along the uneven bricks and broke the skin. A boy with red -hair struck me viciously in the back because I had stumbled into him; -he shouted at me angrily too, though I heard no word he said. And -LeVallon, for his part, just had time to bend his head down with “work -hard and get up into my form--we shall have more chances then,” and was -gone into the passage and out of sight--leaving me trembling inwardly -as though stricken by some sudden strange attack of nerves. - -For his words about the woman turned me inexplicably--into ice. My -legs gave way beneath me. A cold perspiration broke out upon my skin. -No words of any kind came to me; there was no definite thought; clear -recollection, absolutely none. The strange emotion itself I could -not put a name to, nor could I say what part was played in it by any -particular ingredient such as horror, terror, or mere ordinary alarm. -All these were in it somewhere, linked darkly to a sense of guilt at -length discovered and brought home. I can only say truthfully that I -saw again the picture of that woman with her back towards me; but that, -when he spoke, she turned and looked at me. She showed her face. I -knew a sense of dreadful chill like some murderer who, after years of -careful hiding, meets unexpectedly The Law and sees the gallows darkly -rise. A hand of justice--of retribution--seemed stretched upon my -shoulder from the empty sky. - -I now set down my faithful recollection of what happened; and, -incredible as it doubtless sounds to-day, yet it was most distressingly -real. Out of what dim, forgotten past his words, this woman’s face, -arose to haunt “me” of To-day, I had no slightest inkling. What -crime of mine, what buried sin, came as with a blare of trumpets, -seeking requital, no slightest hint came whispering. Yet this was the -impression I instantly received. I was a boy. It terrified and amazed -me, but it held no element of make-believe. Julius LeVallon, myself, -and an unknown woman stood waiting on the threshold of the breathless -centuries to set some stone in its appointed place--a stone, moreover, -he, I, and she, together breaking mighty laws, had left upon the -ground. It seemed no common wrong to her, to him, to me, and yet we -three, working together, alone could find it and replace it. - -This, somehow, was the memory his words, that face, struggled to -reconstruct. - -I saw LeVallon smiling as he left my side. He disappeared in the -way already described. The stream of turbulent boys separated us -physically, just as, in his belief, the centuries had carried us apart -spiritually--he--myself--and this other. I saw a veil drop down upon -his face. The lamps in his splendid eyes were shrouded. At supper we -sat far apart, and the bedroom I shared with two other youngsters of my -own age and form, of course, did not include LeVallon. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - “_Souls without a past behind them, springing suddenly into - existence, out of nothing, with marked mental and moral - peculiarities, are a conception as monstrous as would be the - corresponding conception of babies suddenly appearing from - nowhere, unrelated to anybody, but showing marked racial and - family types._”--“The Ancient Wisdom” (A. Besant). - - -As the terms passed and I ceased to be a new boy, it cannot be said -that I got to know Julius LeVallon any better, because our intimacy had -been established, or “resumed” as he called it, from the beginning; -but the chances of being together increased, we became members of the -same form, our desks were side by side, and we shared at length the -same bedroom with another Fifth Form boy named Goldingham. And since -Goldingham, studious, fat, good-natured, slept soundly from the moment -his head touched the pillow till the seven o’clock bell rang--and -sometimes after it in order to escape his cold bath--we practically had -the room to ourselves. - -Moreover, from the beginning, it all seemed curiously true. It was -not Julius who invented, but I who in my stupidity had forgotten. -Long, detailed dreams, too, came to me about this time, which I -recognised as a continuation of these of “Other Places” his presence -near me in the daytime would revive. They existed, apparently, in -some layer deeper than my daily consciousness, recoverable in sleep. -In the daytime something sceptical in me that denied, rendered them -inaccessible, but once reason slept and the will was in abeyance, they -poured through me in a continuous, uninterrupted flow. A word from -Julius, a touch, a glance from his eyes perhaps, would evoke them -instantly, and I would _see_. Yet he made no potent suggestions that -could have caused them; there was no effort; I did not imagine at his -bidding; and often, indeed, his descriptions differed materially from -my own, which makes me hesitate to ascribe the results to telepathy -alone. It was his presence, his atmosphere that revived them. To-day, -of course, immediately after our schooldays in fact, they ceased to -exist for me--to my regret, I think, on the whole, for they were very -entertaining, and sometimes very exquisite. I still retain, however, -the vivid recollection of blazing summer landscapes; of people, -sometimes barbaric and always picturesque, moving in brilliant colours; -of plains, and slopes of wooded mountains that dipped, all blue and -thirsty, into quiet seas--scenes and people, too, utterly unlike any -I had known during my fifteen years of existence under heavy English -skies. - -LeVallon knew this inner world far better and more intimately than -I did. He lived in it. Motfield Close, the private school among -the Kentish hills, was merely for him a place where his present -brain and body--instruments of his soul--were acquiring the current -knowledge of To-day. It was but temporary. He himself, the eternal -self that persisted through all the series of lives, was in quest -of other things, “real knowledge,” as he called it. For this reason -the recollection of his past, these “Other Places,” was of paramount -importance, since it enabled him to see where he had missed the central -trail and turned aside to lesser pursuits that had caused delay. He was -forever seeking to recover vanished clues, to pick them up again, and -to continue the main journey with myself and, eventually, with--one -other. - -“I’ve always been after those things,” he used to say, “and I’m -searching, searching always--inside myself, for the old forgotten -way. We were together, you and I, so your coming back like this will -help----” - -I interrupted, caught by an inexplicable dread that he would mention -another person too. I said the first thing that came into my head. -Instinctively the words came, yet right words: - -“But my outside is different now. How could you know? My face and body, -I mean----?” - -“Of course,” he smiled; “but I knew you instantly. I shall never forget -that day. I felt it at once--all over me. I had often dreamed about -you,” he added after a moment’s pause, “but that was no good, because -you didn’t dream with me.” He looked hard into my eyes. “We’ve a lot -to do together, you know,” he said gravely, “a lot of things to put -right--one thing, one big thing in particular--when the time comes. -Whatever happens, we mustn’t drift apart again. We shan’t.” - -Another minute and I knew he would speak of “her.” It was strange, this -sense of shrinking that particular picture brought. Never, except in -sleep occasionally, had it returned to me, and I think it was my dread -that kept it out of sight. Yet Julius just then did not touch the topic -that caused my heart to sink. - -“I must be off,” he exclaimed a moment later. “There’s ‘stinks’ to mug -up, and I haven’t looked at it. I shan’t know a blessed word!” For the -chemistry, known to the boys by this shorter yet appropriate name, was -a constant worry to him. He was learning it for the first time, he -found it difficult. But he was a boy, a schoolboy, and he talked like -one. - -He never doubted for one instant that I was not wholly with him. He -assumed that I knew and remembered, though less successfully, and that -we merely resumed an interrupted journey. Pre-existence was as natural -to him as that a certain man and woman had provided his returning -soul with the means of physical expression, termed body. His soul -remembered; he, therefore, could not doubt. It was innate conviction, -not acquired theory. - -“I can’t get down properly to the things I want,” he said another time, -“but they’re coming. It’s a rotten nuisance--learning dates and all -these modern languages keeps them out. The two don’t mix. But, now -you’re here, we can dig up a jolly sight more than I could alone. And -you’re getting it up by degrees all right enough.” - -For the principle of any particular knowledge, once acquired, was never -lost. It was learning a thing for the first time that was the grind. -Instinctive aptitude was subconscious memory of something learned -before. - -“The pity is we’re made to learn a lot of stuff that belongs to one -particular section, and doesn’t run through them all. It clogs the -memory. The great dodge is to recognise the real knowledge and go for -it bang. Then you get a bit further every section.” - -Until my arrival, it seems, he kept these ideas strictly to himself, -knowing he would otherwise be punished for lying, or penalised in -some other educational manner for being too imaginative. Yet, while -he stood aloof somewhat from the common school life, he was popular -and of good repute. The boys admired, but stood in awe of him. He -pleased the masters almost as much as he puzzled them; for, unlike most -dreamy, fanciful youths, he possessed concentration and an imperious -will; he worked hard and always knew his lessons. Modern knowledge he -found difficult, and only mastered with great labour the details of -recent history, elementary science, chemistry, and so forth, whereas -in algebra, Euclid, mathematics, and the dead languages, especially -Greek, he invariably stood at the head of the form. He was merely -re-collecting them. - -During the whole two years of our schooldays at the Close, I never -heard him use such phrases as “former life” or “reincarnation.” Life, -for him, was eternal simply, and at Motfield he was in eternal life, -just as he always had been and always would be. Only he never said -this. He was a boy and talked like a boy. He just lived it. Death to -him was an insignificant detail. His whole mind ran to the idea that -life was continuous, each section casting aside the worn-out instrument -which had been exactly suited to the experience its wearer needed -for its development at that time and under those conditions. And, -certainly, he never understood that astounding tenet of most religions, -that life can be “eternal” by prolonging itself endlessly in the -future, without having equally extended endlessly also in the past! - -“But _I’m_ going to be a general,” I said, “when I grow up,” afraid -that the “real knowledge” might interfere with my main ambition. “I -could never think of giving up _that_.” - -Julius looked up from tracing figures in the sand with the point of his -gymnasium shoe. There was a smile on his lips, a light in his eye that -I understood. I had said something that belonged to To-day, and not to -all To-days. - -“You were before,” he answered patiently, “a magnificent general, too.” - -“But I don’t remember it,” I objected, being in one of my denying moods. - -“You want to be it again,” he smiled. “It’s born in you. That _is_ -memory. But, anyhow,” he added, “you can do both--be a general with -your mind and the other thing with your soul. To shirk your job only -means to come back to it again later, don’t you see?” - -Quite naturally, and with profound conviction, he spoke of life’s -obligations. Physical infirmities resulted from gross errors in the -past; mental infirmities, from lost intellectual opportunities; -spiritual disabilities, from past moral shirkings and delinquencies: -all were methods, moreover, by which the soul divines her mistakes -and grows, through discipline, stronger, wiser. He would point to a -weakness in someone, and suggest what kind of error caused it in a -previous section, with the same certainty that a man might show a scar -and say “that came from fooling with a mowing machine when I was ten -years old.” - -The antipathies and sympathies of To-day, the sudden affinities like -falling in love at sight, and the sudden hostilities that apparently -had no cause--all were due to relationships in some buried Yesterday, -while those of To-morrow could be anticipated, and so regulated, by -the actions of To-day. Even to the smallest things. If, for instance, -Martin vented his spite and jealousy, working injustice upon another, -he but prepared the way for an exactly adequate reprisal later that -must balance the account to date. For into the most trivial affairs -of daily life dipped the spirit of this remarkable boy’s belief, -revealing as with a torch’s flare the workings of an implacable -justice that never could be mocked. No question of punishment meted -out by another entered into it, but only an impersonal law, which men -call--elsewhere--Cause and Effect. - -At the time, of course, I was somewhat carried away by the thoroughness -with which he believed and practised these ideas, though without -grasping the logic and consistency of his intellectual position. I -was aware, most certainly, in his presence of large and vitalising -sensations not easily accounted for, of being caught up into some -unfamiliar region over vast horizons, where big winds blew from dim and -ancient lands, where a sunlight burned that warmed the inmost heart -in me, and where I seemed to lose myself amid the immensities of an -endless, vistaed vision. - -This, of course, is the language of maturity. At the time I could not -express a tithe of what my feelings were, except that they were vast -and wonderful. To think myself back imaginatively, even now, into that -period of my youth with Julius LeVallon by my side, is to feel myself -eternally young, alive forever beyond all possibility of annihilation -or decay; it is, further, to realise an ample measure of lives at my -disposal in which to work towards perfection, the mere ageing and -casting off of any particular body after using it for sixty years or -so--nothing, and less than nothing. - -“Don’t funk!” I remember his saying once to a boy named Creswick who -had “avoided” the charging Hurrish at football. “You can’t lose your -life. You can only lose your body. And you’ll lose that anyhow.” - -“Crazy lout!” Creswick exclaimed, nursing his ankle, as he confided -to another boy of like opinions. “I’m not going to have my bones all -smashed to pulp for anybody. Body I’m using at the moment indeed! It’ll -be life I’m using at the moment next!” - -Which, I take it, was precisely what LeVallon meant. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - “_In the case of personal relations, I do not see that heredity - would help us at all. Heredity, however, can produce a more - satisfactory explanation of innate aptitudes. On the other hand, - the doctrine of pre-existence does not compel us to deny all - influence on a man’s character of the character of his ancestors. - The character which a man has at any time is modified by any - circumstances which happen to him at that time, and may well be - modified by the fact that his re-birth is in a body descended - from ancestors of a particular character._”--Prof. J. M’Taggart. - - -There were numerous peculiarities about this individual with a foreign -name that I realise better on looking back than I did at the time. - -Of his parentage and childhood I knew nothing, for he mentioned -neither, and his holidays were spent at school; but he was always well -dressed and provided with plenty of pocket-money, which he generously -shared. Later I discovered that he was an orphan, but a certain cruel -knowledge of the world whispered that he was something else as well. -This mystery of his origin, however, rather added to the wonder of him -than otherwise. Compared to the stretch of time behind, it seemed a -trifling detail of recent history that had no damaging significance. -“Julius LeVallon is my label for this section,” he observed, “and John -Mason is yours.” And family ties for him seemed to have no necessary -existence, since neither parents nor relations were of a man’s own -choosing. It was the ties deliberately formed, and especially the ties -renewed, that held real significance. - -I thought of him as “foreign,” though, in a deeper sense than that he -was not quite English. He carried me away from England, but also away -from modern times; and something about him belonged to lands where -life was sunnier, more passionate, more romantic even, and where the -shadows of great Gods haunted blue, wooded mountains, vast plains and -deep, sequestered valleys. He claimed kinship somehow with an earlier -world, magical, unstained. Even his athletic gifts, admired of all, had -this subtle distinction too: the way he ran and jumped and “fielded” -was not English. At fives, squash-racquets, or with the cricket-bat he -fumbled badly, whereas in any game that demanded speed, adroitness, -swift intuitive decision, and physical dexterity of a certain -un-English kind--as against mere strength and pluck--he was supreme. He -was deer rather than bull-dog. The school-games of modern days he was -learning, apparently, for the first time. - -In a corner of the field, where a copse of larches fringed the horizon -against the sloping woods and hop-poles in the distance, we used to -lie and talk for hours during playtime. The high-road skirted this -field, and a hedge was provided with a gate which, under penalties, was -the orthodox means of entrance. Few boys attempted any other, though -Peabody was once caught by the Head as he floundered through a thorny -opening with the jumping pole. But Julius never used the gate--nor was -ever caught. He would dart from my side with a few quick steps, leap -into the air, and fly soaring over the hedge, his feet tucked neatly -under him like a bird’s. - -“Now,” he would say, as we flung ourselves down beneath the shade of -the larches, “we’ve got an hour or more. Let’s talk, and remember, and -get well down into it all.” - -How it was accomplished I cannot hope to describe. The world about -me faded, another took its place. It rose in sheets and layers, -shimmering, alive, and amazingly familiar. Space and time seemed to -overlap, objects and scenery interpenetrated. There was fragrance, -light and colour; adventure and alarm; delight and ceaseless -expectation. It was a kind of fairyland where flowers never died, where -motion was swift as thought, and life seemed meted out on a more lavish -scale than by the meagre measurements of ticking clocks. And, while -the memories were often hard to disentangle, the marked idiosyncrasies -of our separate natures were never in the least confusion: _my_ passion -for adventure, _his_ to find the reality that lay behind all manifested -life. For this was the lode-star that guided him over the hills and -deserts of all his many “sections”--the unquenchable fever to learn -essential truth, to pierce behind the veil of appearances and discover -the secret nature of the soul, its origin, its destiny, the methods of -its full realisation. - -It was a pastoral people that interested me most, primitive folk with -migratory habits not yet abandoned. Their herds roamed an enormous -territory. There was a Red Tribe and a Blue Tribe. The fighting men -used bows, spears and javelins, and carried shields with round, smooth -metal bosses to deflect the rain of arrows. And there was cavalry--two -thousand men on horseback called a “coorlie.” Julius and I both knew -it all as if we had lived with them, not merely read an invented tale; -and it was pictures of this land and people that had first flared up in -me that afternoon in the playground when he asked if I “remembered.” -Memories of my childhood a few years before had not half the vividness -and actuality of these. Nothing could have been more stupid than such -undistinguished legends, but for this convincing reality that was their -outstanding characteristic.... It all came back to me: the days and -nights of hunting, nomad existence, the wild freedom of open plains and -trackless forests, of migrations in the spring, wood fires, lawless -raids, and also of some kind of mighty worship that stirred me deeply -with an old, grand sense of Nature Deities adequately approached. - -This latter fact, indeed, rose most possessingly upon me. There came -a vague uneasiness and discomfort with it. I was aware of brooding -Presences.... - -“And they are still about us if we care to look for them,” interrupted -a low voice in my ear, “ready to give us of their strength and -happiness, waiting to answer if we call....” - -I looked up, disagreeably startled. A breath of wind stirred in the -branches overhead. The tufts of ragwort bent their yellow heads. In -the sky there was a curious glow and warmth. A sense of hush pervaded -all the air, as though someone had crept close to where we lay and -overheard our thoughts with sympathy. - -And in that very moment, just as I looked up at Julius, the picture of -the woman, her face averted and her hands upraised, stole like a ghost -before my inner vision. She vanished into mist again; the layer that -had so suddenly disclosed itself, sank down; the other shifted up into -its former place; and my companion, I saw, with sharp amazement was -stretched upon his back, his head turned from me, resting on his folded -hands--as though he had not spoken any word at all. For his eyes, as -I then leaned over to discover, were gazing into space, and his mind -seemed intent upon pictures that he visualised for himself. - -“Julius,” I said quickly, “you spoke to me just now?” - -He turned slowly, as with an effort to tear himself away from what he -saw within him; he answered quietly: - -“I may have spoken. I can’t be sure. Why do you ask? I’ve been so far -away.” His face was rapt as with some inner light. It had a radiant -look. There was no desire in me to insist. - -“Oh, nothing,” I answered quickly, and lay down again to follow what -memories might come. The slight shiver that undeniably had touched me -went its way. There was relief, intense relief--that he had not taken -the clue I recklessly had offered. And, almost at once, the world about -me faded out once more, the larches dipped away, the field sank out of -sight. I plunged down into the sea of older memories.... - -I saw the sunlight flashing on shield and spear; I saw the hordes -all gathered in the plains below, a mass of waving plumes, with red -on the head-dress of the chieftains; I saw the river blackened by -the thousands crossing it, covering the opposite bank like swarms of -climbing ants.... I saw the chieftains lay aside their arms as they -entered the sacred precincts of the grove; I smelt the odour of the -sacrificial fires, heard the long-drawn droning of petitions, the cries -of the victims.... And then the sentry-fires behind the sleeping camps -... the stirring of the soldiers at dawn ... the perfume of leagues of -open plain ... muffled tramping far away ... wind ... fading stars ... -wild-flowers dripping with the dew.... - -There was fighting, too, galore; tremendous marches; signalling by -night from the mountain-tops with torches alternately hidden and -revealed; and of sacred rites, primitive and fraught with danger to -human life, no end.... - -In the middle of which up stole again that other layer, breathing -terror and shrinking dread, and with a vividness of actuality that put -all the rest into the shade. It could not, _would_ not be dismissed. -Its irruption was of but an instant’s duration, but in that instant -there flashed upon me a clear intuition of certainty. I knew that -Julius refrained purposely from speaking of this figure, because -he understood my dread might drive me from his side before what we -three must accomplish together was ripe for action, and because he -waited--till she should appear in person. And, before it vanished -again, I knew another thing: that what we three must accomplish -together had to do directly with the worship of these mighty, old-world -Nature Deities. - -The stirring of these deep, curious emotions in me banished effectually -all further scenery. I sat up and began to talk. I laughed a little and -raised my voice. The sky, meanwhile, had clouded over, there was no -heat in the occasional gleams of sunshine. - -“I’ve been hunting and fighting and the Lord knows what else besides,” -I exclaimed, touching Julius on the shoulder where he lay. “But somehow -I didn’t feel that you were with me--always.” - -“It’s too awfully far back, for one thing,” he replied dreamily, as -if still half withdrawn, “and, for another, we both left that section -young. The three of us were not together then. That was a bit later. -All the same,” he added, “it was there you sowed the first seeds of -the soldiering instinct which is so strong in you to-day. I was killed -in battle. We were on opposite sides. You fell----” - -“On the steps----” I cried, seizing a flashing memory. - -“Of the House of Messengers,” he caught me up. “You carried the Blue -Stick of warning. You got down the street in safety when the flying -javelin caught you as you reached the very steps----” - -There was a sound behind us in the field quite close. - -“What in the world do you two boys find to talk about so much?” asked -the voice of Hurrish suddenly. “I’m afraid it’s not all elegiacs.” And -he laughed good-humouredly. - -We turned with a start. Julius looked up, then rose and touched his -cap. I followed his example the same moment. - -“No, sir,” he said, before I could think of anything to answer. “It’s -the Memory Game.” - -Hurrish looked at him with a quiet smile upon his face. His expression -betrayed interest. But he said nothing, merely questioning with his -eyes. - -“The most wonderful game you ever played, sir,” continued Julius. - -“Indeed! The most wonderful game you ever played?” Hurrish repeated, -yet by no means unkindly. - -“Getting down among the memories of--of before, sir. Recovering what we -did, and what we were--and so understanding what we are to-day.” - -The master stared without a sign of emotion upon his face. Apparently, -in some delightful way, he understood. He was very sympathetic, I -remember, to both of us. We thought the world of him, respecting -him almost to the point of personal affection; and this in spite of -punishments his firm sense of justice often obliged him to impose. I -think, at that moment, he divined what Julius meant and even felt more -sympathy than he cared to show. - -“The Memory Game,” he repeated, looking quizzically down at us over the -top of his glasses. “Well, well.” He hummed and hesitated a moment, -choosing his words, it seemed, with care. “There’s a good deal of that -in the air just now, I know--as you’ll discover for yourselves when -you leave here and get into the world outside. But, remember,” he went -on with a note of earnestness and warning in his voice, “most of it is -little better than a feeble, yet rather dangerous, form of hysteria, -with vanity as a basis.” - -I hardly understood what he meant myself, but I saw the quick flush -that coloured the pale cheeks of my companion. - -“There are numbers of people about to-day,” continued Hurrish, as we -walked home slowly across the field, “who pretend to remember all kinds -of wonderful things about themselves and about their past, not one of -which can be justified. But it only means, as a rule, that they wish -to appear peculiar by taking up the fad of the moment. They like to -glorify themselves, though few of them understand even the A B C of the -serious belief that _may_ lie behind it all.” - -Julius squeezed my arm; the flush had left his skin; he was listening -eagerly. - -“You may later come across a good many thinking people, too,” said -the master, “who play your Memory Game, or think they do, and some -among them who claim to have carried it to an extraordinary degree of -perfection. There are ways and means, it is said. I do not deny that -their systems may be worthy of investigation; I merely say it is a good -plan to approach the whole thing with caution and common sense.” - -He glanced down first at one, then the other of us, with a grave and -kindly expression in the eyes his glasses magnified so oddly. - -“And most who play it,” he added dryly, “remember so much of their -wonderful past that they forget to do their ordinary duties in their -very commonplace present.” He chuckled a little, while Julius again -gripped my flesh so hard that I only just prevented crying out. - -“I’ll remember him in a minute--if only I can get down far enough,” he -managed to whisper in my ear. “We were together----” - -We had reached the gate, and were walking down the road towards the -house. It was very evident that Hurrish understood more than he cared -to admit about our wonderful game, and was trying to guide us rather -than to deride instinctive beliefs. - -That night in our bedroom, when Goldingham was asleep and snoring, -I felt a touch upon my pillow, and looking up from the edge of -unconsciousness, saw the white outline of Julius beside the bed. - -“Come over here,” he whispered, pointing to a shaded candle on the -chest of drawers, “I’ve got something to show you. Something Hurrish -gave me--something out of a book.” - -We peered together over a page of writing spread before us. Julius -was excited and very eager. I do not think he understood it much -better than I myself did, but it was the first time he had come across -anything approaching his beliefs in writing. The discovery thrilled -him. The authority of print was startling. - -“He said it was somebody or other of importance, an Authority,” -Julius whispered as I leaned over to read the fine handwriting. “It’s -Hurrish’s,” I announced. “Rather,” Julius answered. “But he copied it -from a book. _He_ knows right enough.” - -Oddly enough, the paper came eventually into my hands, though how I -know not; I found it many years later in an old desk I used in those -days. I have it now somewhere. The name of the author, however, I quite -forget. - -“The moral and educational importance of the belief in metempsychosis,” -it ran, as our fingers traced the words together in the uncertain -candle-light, “lies in the fact that it is a manifestation of the -instinct that we are not ‘complete,’ and that one life is not enough to -enable us to reach that perfection whither we are urged by the inmost -depths of our being, and also an evidence of the belief that all human -action will be inevitably rewarded or punished----” - -“Rewards or punishes _itself_,” interrupted Julius; “it’s not -punishment at all really.” - -“And this is an importance that must not be underestimated,” the -interrupted sentence concluded. “In so far,” we read on together, -somewhat awed, I think, to tell the truth, “as the theory is based upon -the supposition that a personal divine power exists and dispenses this -retributive justice----” - -“Wrong again,” broke in Julius, “because it’s just the law of natural -results--there’s nothing personal about it.” - -“--and that the soul must climb a long steep path to approach this -power, does metempsychosis preserve its religious character.” - -“He means going back into animals as well--which _never_ happens,” -commented the excited boy beside me once again. We read to the end then -without further interruption. - -“This, however, is not all. The Theory is also the expression of -another idea which gives it a philosophical character. It is the -earliest intellectual attempt of man, when considering the world -and his position in it, to conceive that world, not as alien to -him, but as akin to him, and to incorporate himself and his life -as an indispensable and eternal element in the past and future of -the world with which it forms one comprehensive totality. I say -an eternal element, because, regarded philosophically, the belief -in metempsychosis seems a kind of unconscious anticipation of the -principle now known as ‘Conservation of Energy.’ Nothing that has ever -existed can be lost, either in life or by death. All is but change; and -hence souls do not perish, but return again and again in ever-changing -forms. Moreover, later developments of metempsychosis, especially as -conceived by Lessing, can without difficulty be harmonised with the -modern idea of evolution from lower to higher forms.” - -“That’s all,” Julius whispered, looking round at me. - -“By George!” I replied, returning his significant stare. - -“I promised Hurrish, you know,” he added, blowing out the candle. -“Promised I’d read it to you.” - -“All right,” I answered in the dark. - -And, without further comment or remark, we went back to our respective -beds, and quickly so to sleep. - -Before taking the final plunge, however, into oblivion, I heard the -whisper of Julius, sharply audible in the silence, coming at me across -the darkened room: - -“It’s all rot,” he said. “The chap who wrote that was simply thinking -with his brain. But it’s not the brain that remembers; it’s the other -part of you.” There was a pause. And then he added, as though after -further reflection: “Don’t bother about it. There’s lots of stuff like -that about--all tommy-rot and talk, that’s all. Good night! We’ll dream -together now and p’raps remember.” - - - - -CHAPTER V - - “_We have no right whatever to speak of really unconscious - Nature, but only of uncommunicative Nature, or of Nature whose - mental processes go on at such different time-rates to ours that - we cannot easily adjust ourselves to an appreciation of their - inward fluency, although our consciousness does make us aware of - their presence.... Nature is a vast realm of finite consciousness - of which your own is at once a part and an example._”--Royce. - - -There was a great deal more in LeVallon, however, than the Memory Game: -he brought a strange cargo with him from these distant shores, where, -apparently, I--to say nothing of another--had helped to load it. Bit by -bit, as my own machinery of recovery ran more easily, I tapped other -layers also in myself. Our freight was slowly discharged. We examined -and discussed each bale, as it were, but I soon became aware that -there was a great deal he kept back from me. This secrecy first piqued -and then distressed me. It brought mystery between us; there stood a -shadowy question-mark in our relationship. - -I divined the cause, and dreaded it--that is, I dreaded the revelation -he would sooner or later make. For I guessed--I _knew_--what it -involved and whom. I asked no questions. But I noticed that at a -certain point our conversations suddenly stopped, he changed the -subject, or withdrew abruptly into silence. And something sinister -gripped my heart. Behind it, closely connected in some undiscovered -manner, lay two things I have already mentioned: the woman, and the -worship. - -This reconstruction of our past together, meanwhile, was--for a pair -of schoolboys--a thrilling pursuit that never failed to absorb. Stone -by stone we built it up. After often missing one another, sometimes by -a century, sometimes by a mere decade or so, our return at last had -chimed, and we found ourselves on earth again. We had inevitably come -together. There was no such thing as missing eventually, it seemed. -Debts must be discharged between those who had incurred them. And, -chief among these mutual obligations, I gathered, were certain dealings -we had together in connection with some form of Nature worship, during -a section he referred to as our “Temple Days.” - -The character of these dealings was one of those secret things that he -would not disclose; he knew, but would not speak of it; and alone I -could not “dig it up.” Moreover, the effect upon me here was decidedly -a mixed one, for while there was great beauty in these Temple Days, -there lurked behind this portion of them--terror. We had not been alone -in this. Involved somehow or other with us was “the woman.” - -Julius would talk freely of certain aspects of this period, of various -practices, physical, mental, spiritual, and of gorgeous ceremonies -that were stimulating as well as true, pertaining undoubtedly to -some effective worship of the sun, that resulted in the obtaining of -enormous energy by the worshippers; but after a certain point he would -say no more, and would deliberately try to shift back to some other -“layer” altogether. And it was sheer cowardice in me that prevented my -forcing a declaration. I burned to know, yet was afraid. - -“I do wish I could remember better,” I said once. - -“It comes gradually of itself,” he answered, “and best of all when -you’re not thinking at all. The top part gets thin, and suddenly you -see down into clear deep water. The top part, of course, is recent; it -smothers the older things.” - -“Like thick sand, mine is,” I said, “heaps and heaps of it.” - -He shrugged his shoulders and laughed. - -“The pictures of To-day hide those of Yesterday,” he explained. “You -can’t remember two things at once. If your head is stuffed with what’s -happening at the moment, you can’t expect to remember what happened a -month ago. Dig back. It’s trying that starts it moving.” - -Ancient as the stars themselves appeared the origins of our friendship -and affection of to-day. - -“Then I didn’t get as far as you--in those Temple Days?” I asked. - -He glanced sharply at me beneath his long dark eyelids. He hesitated a -moment. - -“You began,” he answered presently in a low voice, “but got -caught later by--something in the world--fighting, or money, or a -woman--something sticky like that. And you left me for a time.” - -Any temptation that enticed the soul from “real knowledge” he described -as “sticky.” - -“For several sections you fooled with things that counted for the -moment, but were not carried over through the lot. You came back to -the real ones--but too late.” His voice sank down into a whisper; his -face was grave and troubled. Shrinking stole over me. There was the -excitement that he was going to tell me something, yet the dread, too, -that I should hear it. “But now,” he went on, half to himself and half -to me, “we can put that right. Our chance--at last--is coming.” These -last words he uttered beneath his breath. - -And then he abruptly shifted the subject, leaving me with a strangely -disquieting emotion that I should be drawn against my will into -something that I dreaded yet could not possibly avoid. The expression -of his face chilled my heart. He pulled me down upon the grass beside -him. “You’ve got to burrow down inside yourself,” he went on earnestly, -raising his voice again to its normal pitch, “that’s where it all lies -buried. Once you get it up by yourself, you’ll understand. Then you can -help me.” - -His own excitement ran across the air to me. I felt grandeur in his -wonderful conception--this immense river of our lives, the justice of -inevitable cause and effect, the ultimate importance of every action, -word and thought, and, what appealed to me most of all, the idea -that results depended upon one’s own character and will without the -hiring of exalted substitutes to make it easy. Even as a boy this all -appealed strongly to me, probably to the soldier fighting-instinct that -was my chief characteristic.... - -Of these Temple Days with their faint, flying pictures I retain -fascinating recollections. In them was nothing to suggest any country -I could name, certainly neither Egypt, Greece nor India. Julius spoke -of some great civilisation in which primitive worship of some true kind -combined with accomplishments we might regard to-day as the result of -trained and accurate science. It involved union somehow with great -“natural” forces. There was awe in it, but an atmosphere, too, of -wonder, power and aspiration of a genuinely lofty type. - -It left upon me the dim impression that it was not on the earth at -all. But, for me it was too thickly veiled for detailed recovery, -though an invincible instinct whispered that it was here “the woman” -first intruded upon our joint relationship. I saw, with considerable -sharpness, however, delightful pictures of what was evidently -sun-worship, though of an intelligent rather than a superstitious -kind. We seemed nearer to the sun than we are to-day, differently -constituted, aware of greater powers; there was vast heat, there were -gigantic, mighty winds. In this heat, through these colossal winds, -came deity. The elemental powers were its manifestation. The sun, the -planets, the entire universe, in fact, seemed then alive; we knew it -was alive; we were kin with every point in it; and worship of a sun, -a planet, or a tree, as the case might be, somehow drew their beings -into definite relationship with our own, even to the point of leaving -the characteristics of their particular Powers in our systems. A human -being was but _one_ living detail of a universe in which all other -details were equally living and equally--possibly more--important. -Nature was a power to be experienced, shared, and natural objects had -a meaning in their own right. We read the phenomena of Nature as signs -and symbols, clear as the black signs of writing on a printed page. - -Out of many talks together, Julius and I recovered all this. Alone -I could not understand it. Julius, moreover, believed it still -to-day. Though nominally, and in his life as well, a Christian, he -always struck me as being intensely religious, yet without a definite -religion. It was afterwards, of course, I realised this, when my -experience of modern life was larger. He was unfettered by any little -dogmas of man-made creeds, but obeyed literally the teaching of the -Sermon on the Mount, which he knew by heart. It was essential spiritual -truth he sought. His tolerance and respect for all the religions of -to-day were based upon the belief that each contained a portion of -truth at least. His was the attitude of a perfect charity--of an -“old soul,” as he phrased it later, who “had passed through all the -traditions.” His belief included certainly God and the gods, Nature and -Christ, temples of stone and hills and woods and that temple of the -heart which is the Universe itself. True worship, however, was _with_ -Nature. - -A vivid picture belongs to this particular “layer.” I saw the light -of a distant planet being used, apparently in some curative sense, by -human beings. It took place in a large building. Long slits in the roof -were so arranged that the planet shone through them exactly upon the -meridian. Dropping through the dusky atmosphere, the rays were caught -by an immense concave mirror of polished metal that hung suspended -above an altar where the smoke of incense rose; and, since a concave -mirror forms at its focus in the air before it an image of whatever is -reflected in its depths, a radiant image of the planet stood shining -there in the heart of the building. It was a picture of arresting -beauty and significance. Gleaming overhead, hung a mirror of still -mightier proportions that caught the reflected rays and poured them -down in a stream of intensified light upon the backs of men and women -who lay naked on the ground, waiting to receive them. - -“The quality of that particular planet is what they need,” whispered -Julius, as we watched together; “the light-cures of that age have -hardly changed,” he laughed; “the principle, at least, remains the -same.” - -There was another scene as well in which I saw motionless, stretched -figures. I could never see it clearly, though. Darkness invariably -rolled down and hid it; and I had the idea that LeVallon tried to -prevent its complete recovery--just then. Nor was I sorry at this, for -beyond it lay something that seemed the source of the shrinking dread -that haunted me. If I saw all, I should see also--_her_. I should know -the secret thing Julius kept back from me, the thing we three had -somehow to “set right again.” And once, when this particular scene was -in my mind and Julius, I felt sure, was seeing it too, as he lay beside -me on the grass, there passed into me a sudden sensation of a kind I -find it difficult to describe. There was yearning in it, but there was -anguish too, and a pain as of deep, unfathomable regret wholly beyond -me to account for. It swept into me, I think, from him. - -I turned suddenly. He lay, I saw, with his face hidden in his hands; -his shoulders shook as though he sobbed; and it seemed that some -memory of great poignancy convulsed him. For several minutes he lay -speechless in this way, yet an air of privacy about him, that forbade -intrusion. Once or twice I surprised him under these curious attacks; -they were invariably connected with this particular “inner scenery”; -and sometimes were followed by bouts of that nameless and mysterious -illness that kept him in the sick-room for several days. But I asked no -questions, and he vouchsafed no explanation. - -On this particular point, at least, I asked no questions; but on the -general subject of my uneasiness I sometimes probed him. - -“This sense of funk when I remember these old forgotten things,” I -asked, “what is it? Why does it frighten me?” - -Gazing at me out of those strange eyes that saw into so huge a -universe, he answered softly: - -“It’s a faint memory too--of the first pains and trials you suffered -when you began to learn. You feel the old wrench and strain.” - -“It hurt so----?” - -He nodded, with that smile of yearning that sometimes shone so -beautifully on his face. - -“At first,” he replied. “It seemed like losing your life--until you got -far enough to know the great happiness of the bigger way of living. -Coming back to me like this revives it. We began to learn together, you -see.” - -I mentioned the extraordinary feelings of the playground when first I -spoke with him, and of the class-room when first we saw each other. - -“Ah,” he sighed, “there’s no mistaking it--the coming together of old -friends or enemies. The instant the eyes meet, the flash of memory -follows. Only, the tie must have been real, of course, to make it -binding.” - -“How can it ever end?” I asked. “Each time starts it all going again.” - -“By starting the opposite. Love dissolves the link. Understand why you -hate--and at once it lessens. Sympathy follows, feeling-with--that’s -love; and love sets you both free. It’s not thinking, but feeling that -makes the strongest chains.” - -And it was speaking of “feeling” that led to his saying things I -have never forgotten. For thinking, in those older days, seemed of -small account. It was an age of feeling, chiefly. Feeling was the -way to knowledge: here was the main difference between To-day and -those far-off Yesterdays. The way to know an object was to feel -it--feel-with it. The simplicity of the method was as significant as -its--impossibility! Yet a fundamental truth was in it. - -To know a thing was not to enumerate merely its qualities. To state the -weight, colour, texture of a stone, for instance, was merely to mention -its external characteristics; whereas to think of it till it became -part of the mind, seen from its own point of view, was to know it as -it actually is. The mind felt-with it. It became a part of yourself. -Knowledge, as Julius understood the word, was identifying himself with -the object: it became part of the substance of the mind: it was known -from within. - -Communion with inanimate objects, with Nature itself, was in this way -actually possible. - -“Dwell upon anything you like,” he said, “to the point where you feel -it, and you get it all exactly as it _is_, not merely as _you_ see it. -Its quality, its power, becomes a part of yourself. Take trees, rivers, -mountains, take wind and fire in this way--and you feel their power in -you. You can use them. That was the way of worship--then.” - -“The sun itself, the planets, anything?” I asked eagerly, recognising -something that seemed once familiar to me. - -“Anything,” he replied quietly. “Copy their own movements too, and -you’ll get nearer still. Imitate the attitude and gestures of a -stranger and you begin to understand what he’s up to, his point of -view--what he’s feeling. You begin to know him. All ceremonies began -that way. On that big plain where the worship of the sun was held, the -smaller temples represented the planets, the distances all calculated -in proper ratio from the heavens. We copied their movements exactly, -as we moved, thousands and thousands of us, in circular form about the -centre. We felt-with them, got all joined up to the whole system; by -imitating their gestures, we understood them and absorbed a portion of -their qualities and powers. Our energy became as theirs. Acting the -ceremony brought the knowledge, don’t you see? Oh, it’s scientific, -right enough,” he added. “It’s not going backwards--instinctive -knowledge. It’s a pity it’s forgotten now.” - -“How do you know all this?” I asked. - -“I’ve done it so often. You’ve done it with me. Alone, of course, it’s -difficult to get results; but when a lot together do it--a crowd--a -nation--the whole world--you could shift Olympus into the Ægean, or -bring Mars near enough to throw a bridge across!” - -We burst out laughing together, though his face instantly again grew -grave and earnest. - -“It will come,” he said, “it will come again in time. When the idea of -brotherhood has spread, and the separate creeds have merged, and the -whole world feels the same thing together--it will come. It’s another -order of consciousness, that’s all.” - -His passionate conviction certainly stirred joy and wonder in me -somewhere. It was stupendous, yet so simple. The universe was knowable; -its powers assimilable by human beings. Here was true Nature Magic, the -elements co-operating, the stars alive, the sun a deity to be known and -felt. - -“And that’s why concentration gives such power,” he added. “By feeling -anything till you _feel-with_ it and become it, you know every blessed -thing about it from inside. You have instinctive knowledge of it. -Mistakes become impossible. You live and act with the whole universe.” - -And, as I listened, it seemed a kind of childish presumption that had -shut us off from the sun, the stars, the numerous other systems of -space, and that reduced knowledge to the meagre statement of a people -dwelling upon one unimportant globe of comparatively recent matter in -one of the smaller solar systems. - -Our earth, indeed, was not the centre of the universe; it was but -a temporary point in the long, long journey of the River of Lives. -The soul would eventually traverse a million other points. It was so -integral a part of everything, so intimately akin to every corner and -aspect of the cosmos, that a “human” being’s relative position to -the very stars, the angle at which he met their light and responded -to the tension of their forces, must necessarily affect his inmost -personality. If the moon could raise the tides, she could assuredly -cause an ebb and flow in the fluids of the human body, and how could -men and women expect to resist the stress and suction of those -tremendous streams of power that played upon the earth from the network -of great distant suns? Times and seasons, now known as feast-days -and the like, were likewise of significance. There were moments, for -instance, in the “ceremony” of the heavens when it was possible to see -more easily in one direction than in another, when certain powers, -therefore, were open and accessible. The bridges then were clear, the -channels open. A revelation of intenser life--from the universe, from a -star, from mountains, rivers, winds or forests--could then steal down -and leave their traces in the heart and passion of a human being. For, -just as there is a physical attitude of prayer by which the human body -invites communion, so times and seasons were attitudes and gestures -of that greater body of Nature when results could be most favourably -expected. - -It was all very bewildering, very big, very curious; but if I protested -that it merely meant a return to the unreasoning superstitious days of -Nature Magic, there was something in me at the same time that realised -vital, forgotten truth behind it all. Cleansed and scientific, Julius -urged, it must return into the world again. What men formerly knew by -feeling, an age now coming would justify and demonstrate by brain and -reason. Touch with the universe would be restored. We should go back to -Nature for peace and power and progress. Scientific worship would be -known. - -Yet by worship he meant not merely kneeling before an Ideal and praying -eagerly to resemble it; but approaching a Power and acquiring it. What -heat in itself may be we do not know; only that without it we collapse -into inert particles. What lies behind, beyond the physicist’s account -of air as a gas, remains unknown; deprived of it, however, we cease to -breathe and be conscious in matter. Each moment we feel the sun, take -in the air, we live; and the more we accomplish this union, the more we -are alive. In addition to these physical achievements, however, their -essential activities could be known and acquired spiritually. And the -means was that worship which is union--feeling-with. - -To Julius this achievement was a literal one. The elements were an -expression of spiritual powers. To be in touch with them was to be -in touch with a Whole in which the Earth or Sirius are, after all, -but atoms. Moreover, it was a conscious Whole. In atoms themselves he -found life too. Chemical affinity involved intelligence. Certain atoms -refuse to combine with certain other atoms, they are hostile to each -other; while others rush headlong into each other’s arms. How do the -atoms know? - -Here lay hints of powers he sought to reclaim for human use and human -help and human development. - -“For they were known once,” he would cry. “We knew them, you and I. -Their nature is not realised to-day; consciousness has lost touch -with them. We recall a broken fragment, but label it superstition, -ignorance, and the like. And, being incomplete, these remnants of -necessity seem childish. Their meaning cannot come through the brain, -and that other mode of consciousness which understood has left us now. -The world, pursuing a lesser ideal, denies its forgotten greatness with -a sneer!” - -A great deal of this he said to me one day while we were walking home -from church, whose “service” had stirred him into vehement and eager -utterance. His language was very boyish, and yet it seemed to me that I -listened to someone quite as old as Dr. Randall, the Headmaster who had -preached. I can see the hedges, wet and shining after rain; the dull -November sky; ploughed fields and muddy lanes. I can hear again the -plover calling above the hill. Nothing could possibly have been more -uninspiring than the dreary hop-poles, the moist, depressing air, the -leafless elms, and the “Sunday feeling” amid which the entire scene was -laid. - -The boys straggled along the road in twos and threes, hands in pockets, -points of Eton jackets sticking out behind. Hurrish, the nice master, -was just in front of us, walking with Goldingham. I saw the latter turn -his face up sideways as he asked some question, and I suddenly wondered -whether he knew how odd he looked, or, indeed, what he looked like at -all. I wondered what sort of “sections” and adventures Goldingham, -Hurrish, and all these Eton-jacketed boys had been through before they -arrived at _this;_ and next it flashed across me what a grotesque -result it was for LeVallon to have reached after so many picturesque -and stimulating lives--an Eton jacket, a mortar-board, and tight -Wesleyan striped trousers. - -And now, as I recall these curious recollections of years ago, it -occurs to me as remarkable that, although a sense of humour was not -lacking in either of us, yet neither then nor now could the spirit of -the comic, and certainly never of the ludicrous, rob by one little -jot the reality, the deep, convincing actuality of these strange -convictions that LeVallon and I shared together when at Motfield Close -we studied Greek and Latin, while remembering a world before Greeks or -Latins ever existed at all. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - “_There seems nothing in pre-existence incompatible with any - of the dogmas which are generally accepted as fundamental to - Christianity._”--Prof. M’Taggart. - - -By my last half-year at Motfield Close, when I was Head of the school, -LeVallon had already left, but the summer term preceding his departure -is the one most full of delightful recollections for me. He was Head -then--which proves that he was sufficiently normal and practical to -hold that typically English position, and to win respect in it--and I -was “Follow-on Head,” as we called it. - -I suppose he was verging on eighteen at the time, for neither -of us was destined for a Public School later, and we stayed on -longer than the general run of boys. We still shared the room with -Goldingham--“Goldie,” who went on to Wellington and Sandhurst, and -afterwards lost his life in the Zulu War--and we enjoyed an unusual -amount of liberty. The “triumvirate” the masters called us, and I -remember that we were proud of topping Hurrish by half an inch, each -being over six feet in his socks. - -With peculiar pleasure, too, I recall the little class we formed by -ourselves in Greek, and the hours spent under Hurrish’s sympathetic and -enthusiastic guidance, reading Plato for the first time. Hurrish was -an admirable scholar, and myself and Goldie, though unable to match -LeVallon’s singular and intuitive mastery of the language, made up -for our deficiency by working like slaves. The group was a group of -enthusiasts, not of mere plodding schoolboys. But Julius it undoubtedly -was who fed the little class with a special subtle fire of his own, -and with a spirit of searching interpretative insight that made the -delighted Hurrish forget that he was master and Julius pupil. And in -the “Sympathetic Studies” the former published later upon Plotinus and -some of the earlier Gnostic writings, I certainly traced more than -one illuminating passage to its original inspiration in some remark -let fall by LeVallon in those intimate talks round Hurrish’s desk at -Motfield Close. - -But what comes back to me now with a kind of veritable haunting wonder -that almost makes me sorry such speculations are no longer possible, -were the talks and memories we enjoyed together in our bedroom. For -there was a stimulating excitement about these whispered conversations -we held by the open window on summer nights--an atmosphere of stars -and scented airs and hushed silent spaces beyond the garden--that -comes back to me now with an added touch of mystery and beauty both -compelling and suggestive. When I think of those bedroom hours I step -suddenly out of the London murk and dinginess, out of the tedium -of my lecturing and teaching, into a vast picture gallery of vivid -loveliness. The scenery of mighty dreams usurps the commonplace -realities of the present. - -Ten o’clock was the hour for lights out, and by ten-fifteen Goldie, -with commendable regularity, was asleep and snoring. We thanked him -much for that, as somebody says in “Alice,” and Julius, as soon as the -signal of Goldie’s departure became audible, would creep over to my -bed, touch me on the shoulder, and give the signal to drag the bolsters -from a couple of unused beds and plant ourselves tailor-wise in our -dressing-gowns before the window. - -“It’s like the old, old days,” he would say, pointing to the sky. -“The stars don’t change much, do they?” He indicated the dim terraces -of lawn with the tassel of his dressing-gown. “Can’t you imagine it -all? _I_ can. There were the long stone steps--don’t you see?--below, -running off into the plain. Behind us, all the halls and vestibules, -cool and silent, veil after veil hiding the cells for meditation, and -over there in the corner the little secret passages down to the crypts -below ground where the tests took place. Better put a blanket round -you if you’re cold,” he added, noticing that I shivered, though it was -excitement and not cold that sent the slight trembling over my body. -“And there”--as the church clock sounded the hour across the Kentish -woods and fields--“are the very gongs themselves, I swear, the great -gongs that swung in the centre of the dome.” - -Goldie’s peaceful snoring, and an occasional closing of a door as one -master after another retired to his room in the house below, were the -only sounds that reminded me of the present. Julius, sitting beside me -in the starlight, his eyes ashine, his pale skin gleaming under the mop -of tangled dark hair, whispered words that conjured up not only scenes -and memories, but the actual feelings, atmosphere and emotions of -days more ancient than any dreams. I smelt the odour of dim, pillared -aisles, tasted the freshness of desert air, heard the high rustle -of other winds in palm and tamarisk. The Past that never dies swept -down upon us from sky and Kentish countryside with the murmur of the -night-breeze in the shrubberies below. It enveloped us completely. - -“Not the stars we knew together _first_--not the old outlines we once -travelled by,” he whispered, describing in the air with his finger the -constellations presumably of other skies. “That was earlier still. -Yet the general look is the same. You can feel the old tinglings -coming down from some of them.” And he would name the planet that was -in ascension at the moment, with invariable correctness I found out -afterwards, and describe the particular effect it produced upon his -thoughts and imagination, the moods and forces it evoked, the mental -qualities it served--in a word its psychic influence upon the inner -personality. - -“Look,” he whispered, but so suddenly that it made me start. He pointed -to the darkened room behind us. “Can’t you almost see the narrow slit -in the roof where the rays came through and fell upon the metal discs -swinging in mid-air? Can’t you see the rows of dark-skinned bodies on -the ground? Can’t you feel the minute and crowding vibrations of the -light on your flesh, as the disc swung round and the stream fell down -in a jolly blaze all over you?” - -And, though I saw nothing in the room but faintly luminous patches -where the beds stood, and the two tin baths upon the floor, a vivid -scene rose before my mind’s eye that stirred poignant emotions I was -wholly at a loss to explain. The consciousness of some potent magical -life stirred in my veins, a vaster horizon, and a larger purpose than -anything I had known hitherto in my strict and conventional English -life and my quaint worship in a pale-blue tin tabernacle where all was -ugly, cramped, and literally idolatrous. - -“And the gongs so faintly ringing,” I cried. - -Julius turned quickly and thrust his face closer into mine. Then he -stood up beside the open window and drew in a deep breath of the June -night air. - -“Ah, you remember that?” he said, with eyes aglow. “The gongs--the big -singing gongs! There you had a bit of clean, deep memory right out of -the centre. No wonder you feel excited...!” - -And he explained to me, though I scarcely recognised the voice or -language, so strongly did the savour of shadowy past days inform them, -how it was in those old temples when the world was not cut off from -the rest of the universe, but claimed some psychical kinship with all -the planetary and stellar forces, that each planet was represented by -a metal gong so attuned in quality and pitch as to vibrate in sympathy -with the message of its particular rays, sound and colour helping and -answering one another till the very air trembled and pulsed with the -forces the light brought down. No doubt, Julius’s words, vibrating -with earnestness, completed my confusion while they intensified my -enjoyment, for I remember how carried away I was by this picture of the -temples acting as sounding-boards to the sky, and by his description -of the healing powers of the light and sound thus captured and -concentrated. - -The spirit of comedy peeped in here and there between the entr’actes, -as it were, for even the peaceful and studious Goldie was also -included in these adventures of forgotten days, sometimes consciously, -sometimes unconsciously. - -“By the gods!” Julius exclaimed, springing up, “I’ve an idea! We’ll try -it on Goldie, and see what happens!” - -“Try what?” I whispered, catching his own excitement. - -“Gongs, discs and planet,” was the reply. - -I stared at him through the gloom. Then I glanced towards the -unconscious victim. - -“There’s no harm. We’ll imagine this is one of the old temples, and -we’ll do an experiment!” He touched me on the back. Excitement ran -through me. Something caught me from the past. I watched him with an -emotion that was half amazement, half alarm. - -In a moment he had the looking-glass balanced upon the window-ledge at -a perilous angle, reflecting the faint starlight upon the head of the -sleeping Goldingham. Any minute I feared it would fall with a crash -upon the lawn below, or break into smithereens upon the floor. Julius -fixed it somehow with a hair-brush and a towel against the sash. - -“Get the disc,” he whispered, and after a moment’s reflection I -understood what he meant; I emptied one bath as quietly as possible -into the other, then dragged it across the carpet to the bedside of the -snoring Goldie who was to be “healed.” The ridiculous experiment swept -me with such a sense of reality, owing to the intense belief LeVallon -injected into it, that I never once felt inclined to laugh. I was only -vaguely afraid that Goldingham might somehow suffer. - -“It’s Venus,” exclaimed Julius under his breath. “She’s in the -ascendant too. That’s the luck of the gods, isn’t it?” - -I whispered something in reply, wondering dimly what Goldie might think. - -“You bang the bath softly for the sound,” said he, “while I hold it -up for you. We _may_ hit the right note--the vibrations that fit in -with the rate of the light, I mean--though it’s a bit of a chance, I -suppose!” - -I obeyed, thinking of masters sleeping down below in the silent -building. - -“Louder!” exclaimed Julius peremptorily. - -I obeyed again, with a dismal result resembling tin cans in orgy. And -the same minute the good-natured and studious Goldingham awoke with a -start and stretched out a hand for his glasses. - -“Feel anything unusual, Goldie?” asked LeVallon at once, tremendously -in earnest, as he lowered the tin bath. - -“Oh, it’s only _you!_” exclaimed the victim, awakened out of his first -sleep and blinking in the gloom, “and _you!_” he added, catching sight -of me, my fist still upraised to beat; “rotten brutes, both of you! -You _might_ let a fellow sleep a bit. You know I’m swotting up for an -exam.!” - -“But do you _feel_ anything, Goldie?” insisted LeVallon, as though it -were a matter of life and death. “It was Venus, you know....” - -“Was it?” spluttered the other, catching sight of the big bath between -him and the open window. “Well, Venus is beastly cold. Who opened the -window?” The sight of the bath apparently unnerved him. He hardly -expected it before seven in the morning. - -Further explanations were cut short by the sudden collapse of the -mirror with a crash of splintering glass upon the floor. The noise of -the bath, that pinged and boomed as I balanced it against the bed, -completed the uproar. Then the door opened, and there stood--Martin. - -It was an awkward moment. Yet it was not half as real, half as vivid, -half as alive with the emotion of actual life, as that other memory so -recently vanished. Martin, at first, seemed the dream; that other, the -reality. - -He entered with a lighted candle. The noise of the opening window and -the footsteps had, no doubt, disturbed him for some time. Yet, quickly -as he came, Goldie and I were “asleep” even before he had time to cross -the threshold. Julius stood alone to face him in the middle of the -floor. It was characteristic of the boy. He never shirked. - -“What’s the meaning of all this noise?” asked Martin, obviously pleased -to find himself in a position of unexpected advantage. “LeVallon, why -are you not in bed? And why is the window open?” - -Secretly ashamed of myself, I lay under the sheets, wondering what -Julius would answer. - -“We always sleep with the window open, sir,” he said quietly. - -“What was that crash I heard?” asked the master, coming farther into -the room, and holding the candle aloft so that it showed every particle -of the broken glass. “Who did this?” He glanced suspiciously about him, -knowing of course that Julius was not the only culprit. - -LeVallon stood there, looking straight at him. Martin--as I think of -the incident to-day--had the appearance of a weasel placed by chance in -a position of advantage, yet afraid of its adversary. He winced, yet -exulted. - -“Do you realise that it’s long after eleven,” he observed frigidly, -“and that I shall be obliged to report you to Dr. Randall in the -morning....” - -“Yes, sir,” said Julius. - -“It’s very serious,” continued Martin, more excitedly, and -apparently uncertain how to drive home his advantage, “it’s very -distressing--er--to find you, LeVallon, Head of the School, guilty of -mischief like a Fourth-Form boy--at this hour of the night too!” - -The reference to the lower form was, of course, intended to be -crushing. But Julius in his inimitable way turned the tables -astonishingly. - -“Very good, sir,” he said calmly, “but I was only trying to get the -light of Venus, and her sound, into Goldingham’s head--into his -system, that is--by reflecting it in the looking-glass; and it fell -off the ledge. It’s an experiment of antiquity, as you know, sir. I’m -exceedingly sorry....” - -Martin stared. He was a little afraid of LeVallon; the boy’s knowledge -of mathematics had compelled his admiration as often as his questions, -sometimes before the whole class, had floored him. - -“It’s an old experiment,” the boy added, his pale face very grave, -“healing, you know, sir, by the rays of the planets--forgotten -star-worship--like the light-cures of to-day----” - -Martin’s somewhat bewildered eye wandered to the flat tin bath still -propped against Goldingham’s bedside. - -“... and using gongs to increase the vibrations,” explained Julius -further, noticing the glance. “We were trying to make it do for a -gong--the scientists will discover it again before long, sir.” - -The master hardly knew whether to laugh or scold. He stood there in his -shirt-sleeves looking hard at LeVallon who faced him with tumbled hair -and shining eyes in his woolly red dressing-gown. Erect, dignified, -for all the absurdity of the situation, the flush of his strange -enthusiasm emphasising the delicate beauty of his features, I remember -feeling that even the stupid Martin must surely understand that there -was something rather wonderful about him, and pass himself beneath the -spell. - -“I was the priest,” he said. - -“But I did the gong--I mean, the bath-part, please sir,” I put in, -unable any longer to let Julius bear all the blame. - -There was a considerable pause, during which grease dripped audibly -upon the floor from the master’s candle, while Goldingham lay blinking -in bed in such a way that I dared not look at him for fear of laughter. -I have often wondered since what passed through the mind of Tuke -Martin, the senior Master of Mathematics, during that pregnant interval. - -“Get up, all of you,” he said at length, “and pick up this mess. -Otherwise you’ll cut your feet to pieces in the morning. Here, -Goldingham, you help too. You’re no more asleep than the others.” He -tried to make his tone severe. - -“Goldingham only woke when the glass fell off the ledge, sir,” -explained LeVallon. “It was all my doing, really----” - -“And mine,” I put in belatedly. - -Martin watched us gather up the fragments, Goldie, still dazed and -troubled, barking his shins against chairs and bedposts, unable to find -his blue glasses in the excitement. - -“Put the pieces in the bath,” continued Martin shortly, “and ring for -William in the morning to clear it away. And pay the matron for a new -looking-glass,” he added, with something of a sneer; “Mason half, and -you, LeVallon, the other half.” - -“Of course, sir,” said Julius. - -“And don’t let me hear any further sounds to-night,” said the master -finally, closing the window, and going out after another general look -of suspicion round the room. - -Which was all that we ever heard of the matter! For the Master of -Mathematics did not particularly care about reporting the Head of the -School to Dr. Randall, and incurring the dislike of the three top boys -into the bargain. I got the impression, too, that Tuke Martin was as -glad to get out of that room without loss of dignity as we were to see -him go. LeVallon, by his very presence even, had a way of making one -feel at a disadvantage. - -“Anything particular come to you?” he asked Goldie, as soon as we were -alone again, and the victim’s temper was restored by finding himself -the centre of so much general interest. “I suppose there was hardly -time, though----” - -“Queer dream’s all I can remember,” he replied gruffly. - -“What sort?” - -“Nothing much. I seemed to be hunting through a huge lexicon for verbs, -but every time I opened the beastly thing it was like opening the lid -of a box instead of the cover of a book; and, in place of pages, I saw -rows of people lying face downwards, and streaks of light dodging about -all over their skins. Rotten nightmare, that’s all!” - -Julius and I exchanged glances. - -“And then,” continued Goldie, “that bally tin bath banged like thunder -and I woke up to see you two rotters by my bed.” - -“If there had been more time----” Julius observed to me in an aside. - -“I’m jolly glad it’s your last term,” Goldingham growled, looking at -LeVallon, or LeValion, as he usually called him; “you’re as mad as a -March hare, anyhow!”--which was the sentence I took into dreamland with -me. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - “_The blue dusk ran between the streets: my love was winged within - my mind, - It left to-day and yesterday and thrice a thousand years behind. - To-day was past and dead for me, for from to-day my feet had run - Through thrice a thousand years to walk the ways of ancient - Babylon._”--A. E. - - -It was another time, very early in the morning, that LeVallon called -me from the depths of dreamless sleep with a whisper that seemed to -follow me out of some vast place where I had been lying under open -skies with the winds of heaven about my face and the stars as close as -flowers. It was no dream; I brought back no single detail of incident -or person--only this keen, sweet awareness of having been somewhere -far away upon an open plain or desert of enormous stretch, waiting for -something, watching, preparing--and that I had been awakened. Great -hands drew back into the stars; eyes that were mighty closed; heads of -majestic aspect turned away; and Presences of some infinite demeanour -grandly concealed themselves as when mountains become veiled by the -hood of hurrying clouds. I had the feeling that the universe had -touched me, then withdrawn. - -The room was dark, but shades of tender grey, stealing across the walls -and ceiling, told that the dawn was near. Our windows faced the east; a -flush of delicate light was in the sky; and, between me and this sky, -something moved very softly and came close. It touched me. - -Julius, I saw, was bending down above my pillow. - -“Are you ready?” he whispered, as I felt his hand upon my hair. “The -sun is on the way!” - -The words, however, at first, seemed not in English, but in some -other half-familiar language that I instantly translated into my own -tongue. They drifted away from me like feathers into space. I grew -wide awake and rubbed my eyes. It startled me a little to find myself -in this modern room and to see his pale visage peering so closely into -mine. I surely had dropped from a height, or risen from some hollow of -prodigious depth; for it flashed across me that, had I waked a moment -sooner, I must have caught a glimpse of other faces, heard other voices -in that old familiar language, remembered other well-known things, all -of which had fled too suddenly away, plunging with swiftness into the -limbo of forgotten times and places.... It was very sweet. There was -yearning desire in me to know more. - -I sat up in bed. - -“What is it?” I asked, my tongue taking the words with a certain -curious effort. “What were you saying...? A moment ago ... just now?” I -tried to arrest the rout of flying sensations. Dim, shadowy remoteness -gathered them away like dreams. - -“I’m calling you to see the sunrise,” he whispered softly, taking my -hand to raise me; “the sunrise on the Longest Day upon the plain. Wake -up and come!” - -Confusion vanished at his touch and voice. Yet a fragment of words just -vanished dropped back into my mind. Something sublime and lovely ran -between us. - -“But you were saying--about the Blue Circle and the robes--that it was -time to----” I went on, then, with the effort to remember, lost the -clue completely. He _had_ said these other things, but already they had -dipped beyond recovery. I scrambled out of bed, almost expecting to -find some robe or other in place of my old grey dressing-gown beside -the chair. Strong feelings were in me, awe, wonder, high expectancy, -as of some grand and reverent worship. No mere bedroom of a modern -private school contained me. I was elsewhere, among imperial and august -conditions. I was aware of the Universe, and the Universe aware of me. - -I spoke his name as I followed him softly over the carpet. But to my -amazement, my tongue refused the familiar “Julius” of to-day, and -framed instead another sound. Four syllables lay in the name. It was -“Concerighé” that slipped from my lips. Then instantly, in the very -second of utterance, it was gone beyond recovery. I tried to repeat the -name, and could not find it. - -Julius laughed softly just below his breath, making no reply. I saw his -white teeth shine in the semi-darkness. He moved away on tiptoe towards -the window, while I followed.... - -The lower sash was open wide as usual. I heard Goldingham breathing -quietly in his sleep. Still with the mistiness of slumber round me, -I felt bewildered, half caught away, as it seemed, into some web of -ancient, far-off things that swung earthwards from the stars. In this -net of other times and other places, I hung suspended above the world I -ordinarily knew. I was not Mason, a Sixth-Form boy at a private school -in Kent, yet I was indubitably myself. A flood of memories rose; my -soul moved among more spacious conditions; all hauntingly alive and -real, yet never recoverable completely.... - -We stood together by the open window and looked out. The country lay -still beneath the fading stars. A faint breath of air stirred in the -laurel shrubberies below. The notes of awakening birds, marvellously -sweet, came penetratingly from the distant woods. I smelt the night, -I smelt the coolness of very early morning, but there was another -subtler, wilder perfume, that came to my nostrils with a deep thrill of -happiness I could not name. It was the perfume of another day, another -time, another land, all three as familiar to me as this Kentish hill -where now I lived, yet gone otherwise beyond recall. Deep emotion -stirred in me the sense of recognition, as though smell alone had the -power to reconstruct the very atmosphere of those dim days by raising -the ghosts of feelings that once accompanied them.... - -To the right I saw the dim cricket-field with hedge of privet and -hawthorn that ran away in a dark and undulating line towards the -hop-poles standing stiffly in the dusk; and, farther off, to the -left, loomed the oast-houses, peaked and hooded, their faces turned -the other way like a flock of creatures that belonged to darkness. The -past seemed already indistinguishable from the present. I stood upon -shifting sands that rustled beneath my feet.... The centuries drove -backwards.... - -And the eastern sky, serene and cloudless, ran suddenly into gold and -crimson near to the horizon’s rim. It became a river of fire that -flashed along the edge of the world with high, familiar speed. It -broke the same instant into coloured foam far overhead, with shafts -of reddish light that swept the stars and put them out. And then this -strange thing happened: - -For, as my sight passed from the shadowy woods beyond, the scene before -me rose like a lifted map into the air; changed; trembled as though -it were a sheet shaken from the four corners, and--disclosed another -scene below it, most exquisitely prepared. The world I knew melted and -disappeared. I looked a second time. It was gone. - -And with it vanished the entire little bundle of thoughts and feelings -I was accustomed to regard as John Mason.... I smelt the long and windy -odours of the open world. The stars bent down and whispered. Rivers -rolled through me. Forests and grass grew thickly in my thoughts. And -there was dew upon my face.... It was all so natural and simple. It was -divine. The Universe was conscious. I was not separate from it at any -point.... More, I was conscious with it. - -Far off, as an auditorium seen with a bird’s-eye view from some -gigantic height, yet with the distinctness of a map both scaled and -raised, I saw a treeless plain of vast dimensions, grey in the shadows -just before the dawn. In the middle distance stood a domed white -building upon the summit of a mound, with broad steps of stone in -circles all about it, leading to a pillared door that faced the east. -On all sides round it, covering the plain like grass, there was a -concourse, many thousands strong, of people, upright and motionless, -arranged in wide concentric rings, each one a hundred to two hundred -deep. Each ring was dressed in coloured robes, from blue to red, -from green to a soft pale yellow, purple, brown and orange, and the -outermost of all a delicate and tender green that merged into the tint -of the plain itself at a distance of a mile beyond the central building. - -These concentric rings of colour, this vast living wheel of exquisitely -merging tints, standing motionless and silent about the hub of that -majestic temple, formed a picture whose splendour has never left my -mind; and a sense of intoxicating joy and awe swept through me as -something whispered that long ago, I, too, had once taken my appointed -place in those great circles, and had felt the power of the Deity of -Living Fire pass into me in the act of worship just about to begin. The -courage and sweetness of the sun stole on me; light, heat and glory -burned in my heart; I knew myself akin to earth, sea and sky, as also -to every human unit in the breathing wheel; and, knowing this, I knew -the power of the universe was in me because the universe was my Self. - -Imperceptibly at first, but a moment later with measurable speed, a -movement ran quivering round the circles. They began to turn. The -immense, coloured wheel revolved silently upon the plain. The rings -moved alternately, the first to the right, the second to the left, -those at the outer rim more swiftly, and those within more slowly, each -according to its distance from the centre, so that the entire mass -presented the appearance of a single body rotating with a uniform and -perfect smoothness. There rose a deep, muffled sound of myriad feet -that trampled down the sand. The mighty shuffling of it paced the air. -No other sound was audible. The sky grew swiftly brighter. The shafts -of light shot out like arms towards the paling zenith. There came a -whir of cool, delicious wind that instantly died down again and left -the atmosphere more still and empty than before. - -And then the sun came up. With the sudden rush of an eastern clime, -it rose above the world. One second it was not there, the next it -had appeared. The wheel blazed into flame. The circles turned to -coloured fire. And a roaring chant burst forth instantaneously--a -prodigious sound of countless voices whose volume was as the volume -of an ocean. This wind of singing swept like a tempest overhead, each -circle emitting the note related to its colour, the total resulting in -a chord whose magnificence shook the heart with an ecstasy of joyful -worship.... I was aware of the elemental power of fire in myself.... - -How long this lasted, or how long I listened is impossible to tell -... the dazzling glory slowly faded; there came a moment when the -brilliance dimmed; a blur of coloured light rose like a sheet from the -surface of the wheeling thousands, floating off into the sky as though -it were a separate shining emanation the multitude gave off. I seemed -to lose my feet. I no longer stood on solid earth. There came upon me -a curious sense of lightness, as of wings, that yet left my body far -below.... I was charged with a deific power, energy.... Long shafts of -darkness flashed across the sea of light; the pattern of interwoven -colour was disturbed and broken; and, suddenly, with a shock as though -I fell again from some great height, I remembered dimly that I was no -longer--that my name was---- - -I cannot say. I only know confusion and darkness sponged the entire -picture from the world; and my sight, I suddenly realised, went groping -with difficulty about a little field, a rough, uneven hedge, a strip of -ribboned whiteness that was a road, and some ugly, odd-shaped things -that I recognised as--yes, as oast-houses just beyond. And a pale, -sad-looking sun then crawled above the horizon where the hop-poles -stood erect. - -“You saw...?” whispered someone beside me. - -It was Julius. His voice startled me. I had forgotten his very presence. - -I nodded in reply; no words came to me; there was still a trembling in -me, a sense of intolerable yearning, of beauty lost, of power gone -beyond recall, of pain and littleness in the place of it. - -Julius kept his eyes upon my face, as though waiting for an answer. - -“The sun ...” I said in a low and shaking voice. - -He bent his head a moment, leaning down upon the window-sill with his -face in his hands. - -“As we knew it then,” he said with a deep-drawn sigh, raising himself -again. “To-day----!” - -He pointed. Across the fields I saw the tin roof of the conventicle -where we went to church on Sunday, lifting its modern ugliness beyond -the playground walls. The contrast was somehow dreadful. A revulsion of -feeling rose within me like a storm. I stared at the meagre building -beneath whose roof of corrugated iron, once a week, we knelt and -groaned that we were “miserable sinners”--begging another to save us -from “punishment” because we were too weak to save ourselves. I saw -once more in memory the upright-standing throng, claiming with joy -the powers of that other Deity of whom they knew they formed a living -portion. And again this intolerable yearning swept me. My soul rose up -in a passionate protest that vainly sought to express itself in words. -Language deserted me; tears dimmed my eyes and blurred my sight; I -stretched my hands out straight towards that misty sunrise of To-day.... - -And, when at length I turned again to speak to Julius, I saw that he -had already left my side and gone back to bed. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - “_Not unremembering we pass our exile from the starry ways: - One timeless hour in time we caught from the long night of - endless days._”--A. E. - - -And so, in due course, the period of our schooldays came to its -appointed end without one single further reference to the particular -thing I dreaded. Julius had offered no further word of explanation, and -my instinctive avoidance of the subject had effectively prevented my -asking pointed questions. It remained, however; it merely waited the -proper moment to reveal itself. It was real. No effort on my part, no -evasion, no mere pretence that it was fantasy or imagination altered -_that_. The time would come when I should know and understand; evasion -would be impossible. It was inevitable as death. - -During our last term together it lay in almost complete abeyance, only -making an appearance from time to time in those vivid dreams which -still presented themselves in sleep. It hid; and I pretended bravely to -ignore it altogether. - -Meanwhile our days were gloriously happy, packed with interest, and -enlivened often with experiences as true and beautiful as the memory -of our ancient sun-worship I have attempted to describe. No doubt -assailed me; we _had_ existed in the past together; those pictures of -“inner scenery” were memories. The emotions that particular experience, -and many others, stirred in me were as genuine as the emotions I -experienced the last term but one, when my mother died; and, whatever -my opinion of the entire series may be to-day, on looking back, honesty -compels me to admit this positive character of their actuality. There -was no make-believe, no mere imagination. - -Our intimacy became certainly very dear to me, and I felt myself linked -to Julius LeVallon more closely than to a brother. The knowledge that -much existed he could not, or would not, share with me was pain, the -pain of jealousy and envy, or possibly the deeper pain that a barrier -was raised. Sometimes, indeed, he went into his Other Places almost -for days together where I could not follow him, and on these occasions -the masters found him absent-minded and the boys avoided him; he went -about alone; if games or study compelled his attention, he would give -it automatically--almost as though his body obeyed orders mechanically -while the main portion of his consciousness seemed otherwise engaged. -And, while it lasted, he would watch me curiously, as from a distance, -expecting apparently that I would suddenly “remember” and come up to -join him. His soul beckoned me, I felt, but half in vain. I longed to -be with him, to go where he was, to see what he saw, but there was -something that effectually prevented. - -And these periods of absence I rather dreaded for some reason. It was -uncanny, almost creepy. For I would suddenly meet his glowing eyes -fixed queerly, searchingly on my own, gazing from behind a veil at me, -asking pregnant questions that I could not catch. I would see him lying -there beneath the larches of the cricket-field alone, rapt, far away, -deep in his ancient recollections, and apart from me; or I would come -upon him suddenly in the road, in a sunny corner of the playground, -even in the deserted gymnasium on certain afternoons, when he would -start to see me, and turn away without a word, but with an expression -of unhappy yearning in his eyes as though he shared my pain that he -dwelt among these Other Places which, for the moment, I might not know. - -Many, many, indeed, are the details of these days that I might -mention, but their narration would prove too long. One, however, may -be told. He had, for instance, a kind of sign-language that was quite -remarkable. On the sandy floor of a disused gravel-pit, where we lay -on windy days for shelter while we talked, he would trace with a twig -a whole series of these curious signs. They were for him the alphabet -of a long-forgotten language--some system of ideograph or pictorial -representation that expressed the knowledge of the times when it was -used. He never made mistakes; the same sign invariably had the same -meaning; and it all existed so perfectly in his inner vision that he -used it even in his work, and kept a book in which the Greek play of -the moment was written out entirely in this old hieroglyphic side by -side with the original. He read from it in class, even under the eagle -eye of the Head, with the same certainty as he read from the Greek -itself. - -There were characteristic personal habits, too, that struck me later -as extraordinary for a boy of eighteen--in England; for he led an -inner life of exceeding strictness, not to say severity, and was for -ever practising mental concentration with a view to obtaining complete -control of his feelings, thoughts and, therefore, actions. Upright as -a rod of steel himself, he was tolerant to the failings of others, -lenient to their weaknesses, and forgiving to those who wronged him. He -bore no malice, cherished no ill-feeling. “It’s as far as they’ve got,” -he used to say, “and no one can be farther than he is.” Indeed, his -treatment of others implied a degree of indifference to self that had -something really big about it. And, even on the lowest grounds, to bear -a grudge meant only casting a net that must later catch the feet. - -His wants in the question of food were firmly regulated too; for at -an age when most boys consider it almost an aim in life to devour -all they can possibly get and to spend half of their pocket-money on -tempting eatables, Julius exercised a really Spartan control over these -particular appetites. Not only was his fare most frugal in quantity, -but he avoided the eating of meat almost entirely, alcohol completely, -and sometimes would fast for a period that made me wonder for his -health. He never spoke of this. I noticed it. Nor ever once did he use -his influence to persuade me to like habits. No boy was ever less a -prig than LeVallon. Another practice of his was equally singular. In -order to increase control of the body and develop tenacity of will, I -have known him, among other similar performances, stand for hours at a -time on winter nights, clad only in a nightshirt, fighting sleep, cold, -hunger, movement--stand like a statue in the centre of the room, as -though the safety of the world depended upon success. - -Most curious of all, however, seemed to me his habit of--what I can -only call--communing with inanimate things. “You only remember the -sections where we were together,” he explained, when once I asked the -meaning of what he did; “and as you were little with me when this was -the way of getting knowledge, it is difficult for you to understand.” -This fact likewise threw light upon the enormous intervals between -remembered sections. We recalled no recent ones at all. We had not come -back together in them. - -This communing with inanimate things had chiefly to do, of course, with -Nature, and I may confess at once that it considerably alarmed me. To -read about it comfortably in an armchair over the fire is one thing; -to see it done is another. It alarmed me, moreover, for the reason -that somewhere, somehow, it linked on to the thing I dreaded above all -others--the days when he and I and _she_ had made some wrong, some -selfish use of it. This, of course, remained an intuition of my own. -I never asked; I never spoke of it. Only in my very bones I felt sure -that the thing we three must come together to put right again somehow -involved, and involved unpleasantly, this singular method of acquiring -knowledge and acquiring power. We had abused it together; we had yet to -put it right. - -To see Julius practising this mysterious process with a stone, a -flower, a tree, and to hear him then talk about these three different -objects, was like listening to a fairy tale told with the skill of a -great imaginative artist. He personified them, gave their life history, -rendered their individual experiences, moods, sensations, qualities, -adventures--anything and everything that could ever happen to a stone, -a flower, a tree. I realised their existence from their own point of -view; felt-with them; shared their joys and sufferings, and understood -that they were living things, though with a degree of life so far below -our own. Communion with Nature was, for him, communion with the very -ground of things. All this, though exquisitely wonderful, was within -the grasp of sympathetic comprehension. It was natural. - -But when he dealt with things less concrete--and his favourites were -elemental forces such as air and heat, or as he preferred to call them, -wind and fire--the experience, though no whit less convincing owing to -the manner of his description, was curiously disturbing, because of the -results produced upon himself. I can describe it in two words, though I -can give no real idea of it in two thousand. He rushed, he flamed. It -was almost as if, in one case, his actual radiation became enormous, -and in the other, some power swept, as in the form of torrential -enthusiasm, from his very person. _I_ remember my first impression in -the class-room--that a great wind blew, and that flaming colours moved -upon the air. - -When he was “feeling-with” this pair of elemental forces he seemed to -draw their powers into his own being so that I, being in close sympathy -with him, caught some hint of what was going forward in his heart. -Sometimes on drowsy summer afternoons when no air stirred through -the open windows of the room, there would come a sudden change in my -surroundings, an alteration. I would hear a faint and distant sound of -roaring; something invisible drove past me. Julius, at the desk beside -me, had finished work, and closed his books. His head in his hands, he -sat motionless, an intent expression on both face and body, wrapped -deep in concentrated effort of some kind. He was practising.... And -once, too, I remember being waked out of sleep in the early morning -with an impression of a stimulating heat about me which amounted to an -intensification of life almost. There he stood beside the window, arms -folded, head bent down upon his breast, and an effect about him that -can only be described as glowing. The air immediately round him seemed -to shine with a faint, delicate radiance as of tropical starlight, or -as though he stood over a dying fire of red-hot coals. It was a half -fascinating, half terrifying sight; the light pulsed and trembled with -distinct vibrations, the air quivered so as to increase his bodily -appearance. He looked taller, vaster. And not once I saw this thing, -but many times. No single dream could possibly explain it. In both -cases, with the wind as with the fire, his life seemed magnified as -though he borrowed from these elemental forces of Nature their own -special qualities and powers. - -“All the elements,” I remember his saying to me once, “are in our -bodies. Do you expect Nature to be less intelligent than the life that -she produces?” For him, certainly, there was the manifestation of -something deeper than physics in the operations of so-called natural -laws. - -For here, let me say now in conclusion of this broken record of -our days at school together, was the rock on which our intercourse -eventually suffered interruption, and here was that first sign of the -parting of our ways. It frightened me.... Later, in our university -days, the cleavage became definite, causing a break in our friendship -that seemed at the moment final. For a long time the feeling in me had -been growing that his way and mine could not lie much farther together. -Julius attributed it to my bringing up, which I was not independent -enough to shake off. I can only say that I became conscious uneasily -that this curious intercourse with Nature--“communing” as he termed -it--led somehow away from the Christianity of my childhood to the gods -and deification of the personal self. I did not see at the time, as he -insisted, that _both_ were true, being different aspects of the central -fact that God is the Universe, and that man, being literally part of -it, must eventually know Him face to face by actually becoming Him. All -this lay far beyond me at the time. - -It seemed to me then, and more as I grew older, an illegitimate, -dangerous traffic; for paganism, my father taught me sternly, was the -Devil, and that the Universe could actually be alive was a doctrine of -heathenish days that led straight to hell and everlasting burning. I -could not see, as Julius saw, that here was teaching which might unify -the creeds, put life into the formal churches, inspire the world with -joy and hope, and bring on the spirit of brotherhood by helping the -soul to rediscover its kinship with a living cosmos. - -One certainty, however, my schooldays with this singular boy bequeathed -to me, a certainty I have never lost, and a very gorgeous and inspiring -one--that life is continuous. - -LeVallon lived in eternal life. He knew that it stretched infinitely -behind his present “section,” and infinitely ahead into countless other -“sections.” The results of what lay behind he must inevitably exhaust. -Be that harvest painful or pleasant, he must reap what he had sown. But -the future lay entirely in his own hands, and in his power of decision; -chance or caprice had no word to say at all. And this consciousness -of being in eternal life now, at the present moment, master of fate, -potentially at least deific--this has remained a part of me, whether -I will or no. To Julius LeVallon I owe certainly this unalterable -conviction. - -Another memory of that early intercourse that has remained with me, -though too vaguely for very definite description, is the idea that -personal life, even in its smallest details, is part of a cosmic -ceremony, that to perform it faithfully deepens the relationship man -bears to the Universe as a living whole, and is therefore of ultimate -spiritual significance. An inspiring thought, I hold, even in the -vagueness of my comprehension of it. - -Yet above and beyond such notions, remained the chief memory of all: -that in some such ancient cosmic ceremony, Julius, myself and one other -had somehow abused our privileges in regard to Nature Powers, and that -the act of restoration still awaiting fulfilment at our hands, an -act involving justice to the sun and stars as well as to our lesser -selves, could not be accomplished until that “other” was found on earth -together with himself and me. And that other was a woman. - - - - -Book II - -EDINBURGH - - - - - “_We do not know where sentient powers, in the widest sense of - the term, begin or end. And there may be disturbances and moods - of Nature wherein the very elemental forces approach sentient - being, so that, perhaps, mythopœic man has not been altogether a - dreamer of dreams. I need not dwell on the striking reflections - to which this possibility gives rise; enough that an idealistic - dynamism forces the possibility on our view. If the life of - Nature is from time to time, and under special conditions, - raised to the intense requisite level, we are in the presence of - elemental forces whose character primitive man has not entirely - misunderstood._”--“Individual and Reality” (E. D. Fawcett). - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -There was an interval of a year and a half before we met again. No -letters passed between us, and I had no knowledge of where LeVallon -was or what he did. Yet while in one sense we had gone apart, in -another sense I knew that our relationship suffered no actual break. -It seemed inevitable that we should come together again. Our tie was -of such a kind that neither could shake the other off. In the meantime -my soldier’s career had been abandoned; loss of money in the family -decreed a more remunerative destiny; and the interval had been spent -learning French and German abroad with a view to a less adventurous -profession. At the age of nineteen, or thereabouts, I found myself at -Edinburgh University to study for a Bachelor of Science degree, and the -first face I saw in Professor Geikie’s lecture room for geology was -that of my old school-friend of the “Other Places,” Julius LeVallon. - -I stood still and stared, aware of two opposing sensations. For -this unexpected meeting came with a kind of warning upon me. I felt -pleasure, I felt dread: I cannot determine which came first, only that, -mingled with the genuine gratification, there was also the touch of -uneasiness, the sinking of the heart I knew so well. - -And I remember saying to myself--so odd are the tricks of memory--“Why, -he’s as pale as ever! Always that marble skin!” As though during -the interval he ought somehow to have acquired more colour. He was -tall, over six feet, thin, graceful as an Oriental; an expression of -determination in his face had replaced the former dreaminess. The eyes -were clear and very strong. There was an expression of great intensity -about him. - -His greeting was characteristic: he showed eager pleasure, but -expressed no surprise. - -“Old souls like ours are bound to meet again,” he said with a smile as -he shook my hand. “We have so much to do together.” - -I recalled the last time I had seen him, waiting on the school platform -as the train went out, and I realised that there were changes in him -that left me standing still, as it were. Perhaps he caught my thought, -for his face took on a touch of sadness; he gazed into my eyes, making -room for me beside him on the bench. “But you’ve been dawdling on the -way a bit,” he added. “You’ve been after other things, I see.” - -It was true enough. I had fallen in love, for one thing, besides -devoting myself with the ardour of youth to literature, music, sport, -and other normal interests of my age. From his point of view, of -course, I had not advanced, whereas he obviously had held steadily -to the path he had chosen for himself, following always one main -thing--this star in the east of his higher knowledge. His attitude -to me, I felt moreover, had undergone a change. The old sympathy and -affection had not altered, but a strain of pity had crept in, a regret -that I suffered the attractions of the world to interfere with my -development. - -A delay, as he called it, in our relationship there had certainly been, -though the instant we met I realised that something bound us together -fundamentally with a power that superficial changes or external -separation could never wholly dissolve. - -Yet, on the whole, I saw little enough of him during these Edinburgh -days, far less certainly than at Motfield Close. I was older, for one -thing, more of the world for another. As a boy, of course, the idea -that we renewed an eternal friendship, faithful to one another through -so many centuries, made a romantic appeal that was considerable. But -the glamour had evaporated; I was a man now, I considered, busy with -the things of men. At the same time I was aware that these other -tendencies were by no means dead in me, and that very little would be -required to revive them. Buried by other interests, they were yet ready -to assert themselves again. - -And LeVallon, for his part, though he saw less of me, and I think cared -to see less of me than before, kept deliberately in touch, and of set -purpose would not suffer us to go too far apart. We did not live in -the same building, but he came often to my rooms, we took great walks -together over the Pentland Hills, and once or twice wandered down the -coast from Musselburgh to the cliffs of St. Abbs Head above the sea. -Why he came to Edinburgh at all, indeed, puzzled me a little; but I am -probably not far wrong in saying that two things decided the choice: -He wished to keep me in sight, having heard somehow of my destination; -and, secondly, certain aspects of Nature that he needed were here -easily accessible--the sea, hills, woods, and lonely places that his -way of life demanded. Among the lectures he took a curious selection: -geology, botany, chemistry, certain from the Medical Course, such -as anatomy and materia medica, and, above all, the advanced mental -classes. He attended operations, post-mortems, and anything in the -nature of an experiment, while the grim Dissecting Room knew him as -well as if his living depended upon passing the examination in anatomy. - -Of his inner life at this period it was not so easy to form an -estimate. He worked incessantly, but at something I never could quite -determine. At school he was for ever thinking of this “something”; now -he was working at it. It seemed remote from the life of the rest of us, -students and others, because its aim was different. Pleasure, as such, -and the usual forms of indulgence, he left on one side; and women, -though his mysterious personality, his physical beauty, and his cold -indifference attracted them, he hardly admitted into his personal life -at all; to his intimacy, never. His habits were touched with a singular -quality of selflessness, very rare, very exquisite, sincere as it was -modest, that set him apart in a kind of divine loneliness, giving to -all, yet asking of none. My former feeling that his aims were tinged by -something dark and anti-spiritual no longer held good; it was due to a -partial and limited judgment, to ignorance, even to misunderstanding. -His aims were undeniably lofty, his life both good and pure. Respect -grew with my closer study of him, for his presence brought an uplifting -atmosphere of intenser life whose centre of activity lay so high above -the aims of common men as to constitute an “other-worldliness” of a -very unusual kind indeed. - -I observed him now as a spectator, more critically. No dreams or -imaginative visions--with one or two remarkable exceptions--came -to bewilder judgment. I saw him from outside. If not sufficiently -unaffected by his ideas to be quite a normal critic, I was certainly -more prosaic, and often sceptical. None the less the other deeper -tendency in me was still strong; it easily wakened into life. This deep -contradiction existed. - -The only outward change I noticed, apart from the greater maturity -and decision in the features, was a look of sadness he habitually -wore, that altered when he spoke of the things he cared about, into an -expression of radiant joy. The thought of his great purpose then lit -flames in his eyes, and brought into the whole countenance a certain -touch of grandeur. It was not often, evidently, that he found anyone -to talk with; and arguing, as such, he never cared about. He knew. He -was one of those fortunate beings who never had felt doubt. Perfect -assurance he had. - -Julius, at that time, occupied a suite of rooms at the end of Princes -Street, where Queensferry Road turns towards the Forth. They were, I -think, his only extravagance, for the majority of students were content -with a couple of rooms, or a modest flat on the Morningside. This suite -he furnished himself, and there was one room in it that no one but -himself might enter. It had, I believe, no stick of furniture in it, -and required, therefore, no dusting apparently; in any case, neither -landlady, friend nor servant ever passed its door. - -My curiosity concerning it was naturally considerable, though never -satisfied. He needed a place, it seems, where absolute solitude was -possible, an atmosphere uncoloured by others. He made frequent use of -it, but whether for that process of “feeling-with” already mentioned, -or for some kind of secret worship, ceremonial, or what not, is -more than I can say. Often enough I have sat waiting for him in the -outer room when he was busy within this mysterious sanctum; no sound -audible; no movement; a bright light visible beneath the crack of the -door; a sense of hush, both deep and solemn, about the entire place. -Though it may sound ridiculous to say so, there was a certain air of -sanctity that hung like a veil about that inner chamber, the silence -and stillness evoked a hint of reverence. I waited with something -between awe and apprehension for the handle to turn, aware that behind -the apparent stillness something intensely active was going forward, -of which faint messages reached my mind outside. Certainly, while -sitting with book or newspaper, waiting for his footstep, my thoughts -would glow and burn within me, rushing with energy along unaccustomed -channels, and I remember the curious feeling that behind those panels -of painted deal there lay a space far larger than the mere proportions -of a room. - -As in the fairy-tale, that door opened into outer space; and I suspect -that Julius used the solitude for “communing” with those Nature Powers -he seemed always busy with. Once, indeed, when he at length appeared, -after keeping me waiting for a longer period than usual, I was aware -of two odd things about him: he brought with him a breath of open air, -cool, fresh and scented as by the fragrance of the forest; about him, -too, a faintly luminous atmosphere that lent to his face a kind of -delicate radiance almost shining. My sight for a moment wavered; the -air between us vibrated as he came across the room towards me. There -was a strangeness round about him. There was power. And when he spoke, -his voice, though low as always, had a peculiar resonance that woke -echoes, it seemed, beyond the actual walls. - -The impressions vanished as curiously as they came; but their -reality was beyond question. And at times like these, I confess, -the old haunting splendour of his dream would come afresh upon me -as at Motfield Close. My little world of ambition and desire seemed -transitory and vain. The magic of his personality stole sweetly, -powerfully upon me; I was swept by gusts of passionate yearning to -follow where he led. For his purpose was not selfish. The knowledge and -powers he sought were for the ultimate service of the world. It was the -permanent Self he trained rather than the particular brain and body of -one brief and transient “section,” called To-day. - -These moods with me passed off quickly, and the practical world in -which I now lived brought inevitable reaction; I mention them to -show that in me two persons existed still: an upper, that took life -normally like other people, and a lower, that hid with Julius LeVallon -in strange “Other Places.” For in this duality lies the explanation of -certain experiences I later shared with him, to be related presently. - -Our relations, meanwhile, held intimate and close as of old--up to a -certain point. There was this barrier of my indifference and the pity -that it bred in him. Though never urging it, he was always hoping that -I would abandon all and follow him; but, failing this, he held to me -because something in the future made me necessary. Otherwise the gulf -between us had certainly not widened. - -I see him as he stood before me in those Edinburgh lodgings: young, -in the full tide of modern life, with good faculties, health, means, -looks, high character, and sane as a policeman! All that men hold dear -and the world respects was his. Yet, without a hint of insincerity or -charlatanism, he seemed conscious only of what he deemed the long, -sweet prizes of the soul, difficult of attainment, and to the majority -mere dreams. His was that rare detachment which sees clear to the end, -not through avoiding the stress of perilous adventure by the way, -but through refusing the conclusion that the adventures were ends in -themselves, or could have any other significance than as items in -development, justifying all suffering. - -Eternal life for him was _now_. He sought the things that once acquired -can never be forgotten, since their fruits are garnered by the Self -that persists through all the series of consecutive lives. Through -all the bewildering rush and clamour of the amazing world he looked -ever to the star burning in the depths of his soul. And for a tithe of -his certainty, as of the faith and beauty of living that accompanied -it, I sometimes felt tempted to give all that I possessed and follow -him. The scale at any rate was grand. The fall of empires, the crash -of revolutions, the destiny of nations, all to him were as nothing -compared with the advance or retreat of a single individual soul in the -pursuit of what he deemed “real knowledge.” - -Yet, while acknowledging the seduction of his dream, and even half -yielding to it sometimes, ran ever this hidden thread of lurking -dread and darkness that, for the life of me, I could never entirely -get rid of. It was lodged too deeply in me for memory to discover, or -for argument to eject. Ridicule could not reach it, denial made no -difference. To ignore it was equally ineffective. Even during the long -interval of our separation it was never quite forgotten. Like something -on the conscience it smouldered out of sight, but when the time was -ripe it would burst into a blaze. - -At school I merely “funked” it; I would not hear about it. Now, -however, my attitude had changed a little. The sense of responsibility -that comes with growing older was involved--rather to my annoyance -and dismay. Here was something I must put right, or miss an important -object of my being. It was inevitable; the sooner it was faced and done -with, the better. - -Yet the time, apparently, was not quite yet. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - “_Instead of conceiving the elements as controlled merely by - blindly operative forces, they may be imagined as animated - spiritual beings, who strive after certain states, and offer - resistance to certain other states._”--Lotze. - - -In connection with LeVallon’s settled conviction that the Universe was -everywhere alive and one, and that only the thinnest barriers divided -animate from so-called inanimate Nature, I recall one experience -in particular. The world men ordinarily know is limited to a few -vibrations the organs of sense respond to. Though science, with her -delicate new instruments, was beginning to justify the instinctive -knowledge of an older time, and wireless marvels and radio-activity -were still unknown (at the time of which I write), Julius spoke of -them as the groundwork of still greater marvels by which thought would -be transmissible. The thought-current was merely a little higher than -the accepted wave lengths; moreover, powers and qualities were equally -transmissible. Unscientifically, he was aware of all these things, -and into this beyond-world he penetrated, apparently, though with the -effort of a long-forgotten practice. He linked the human with the -non-human. He knew Saturn or the Sun in the same way that he knew a -pebble or a wild flower--by feeling-with them. - -“It’s coming back into the world,” he said. “Before we leave this -section it will all be known again. The ‘best minds,’” he laughed, -“will publish it in little primers, and will label it ‘extension of -consciousness,’ or some such laboured thing. And they will think -themselves very wonderful to have discovered what they really only -re-collect.” - -He looked up at me and smiled significantly, as we sat side by side -in the Dissecting Room, busily tracing the nerves and muscles in a -physical “instrument” some soul had recently cast aside. I use his -own curious phraseology, of course. He laid his pointed weapon down a -moment upon the tangle of the solar plexus that resembled the central -switch-board of a great London telegraph office. - -“There’s the main office,” he pointed, “not _that_,” indicating the -sawn-off skull where the brain was visible. “Feeling is the clue, not -thinking.” - -And, then and there, he described how this greatest nerve-centre of the -human system could receive and transmit messages and powers between its -owner and the entire universe. His quiet yet impassioned language I -cannot pretend at this interval to give; I only remember the conviction -that his words conveyed. It was more wonderful than any fairy-tale, for -it made the fairy-tale come true. For this “beyond-world” of Julius -LeVallon contained whole hierarchies of living beings, whose actuality -is veiled to-day in legend, folk-lore, and superstition generally--some -small and gentle as the fairies, some swift and radiant as the biblical -angels, others, again, dark, powerful and immense as the deities of -savage and “primitive” races. But all knowable, all obedient to the -laws of their own being, and, furthermore, all accessible to the -trained will of the human who understood them. Their great powers -could be borrowed, used, adapted. Herein lay for him a means to deeper -wisdom, richer life, the recovery of true worship, powers that must -eventually help Man to that knowledge of the universe which is, more -simply put, the knowledge of one God. At present Man was separate, cut -off from all this bigger life, matter “inanimate” and Nature “dead.” - -And I remember that in this remarkable outburst he touched very nearly -upon the origin of my inner dread. Again I felt sure that it was in -connection with practices of this nature that he and I and _she_ -had involved ourselves in something that, as it were, disturbed the -equilibrium of those forces whose balance constitutes the normal -world, but something that could only be put right again by the three of -us acting in concert and facing an ordeal that was somehow terrible. - -One afternoon in October I always associate particularly with this talk -about elemental Nature Powers being accessible to human beings, for it -was the first occasion that I actually witnessed anything in the nature -of definite results. And I recall it in detail; the memory of such an -experience could never fade. - -We had been walking for a couple of hours, much of the time in silence. -My own mind was busy with no train of thought in particular; rather I -was in a negative, receptive state, idly reviewing mental pictures, -and my companion’s presence obtruded so little that I sometimes almost -forgot he was beside me. On the Pentlands we followed the sheep tracks -carelessly where they led, and presently lay down among the heather -of the higher slopes to rest. Julius flung himself down first, and, -pleasantly tired, I imitated him at once. In the distance lay the -mosaic of Edinburgh town, her spires rising out of haze and mist. -Across the uninspiring strip of modern houses called the Morningside, -the Castle Rock stood on its blunt pedestal, carved out by the drive of -ancient glaciers. At the end of the small green valley where immense -ice-chisels once had ploughed their way, we saw the Calton Hill; beyond -it, again, the line of Princes Street with its stream of busy humanity; -and further still, the lovely dip over the crest of the hill where the -Northern ocean lay towards the Bass Rock and the sea-birds. - -The autumn air drew cool and scented along the heathery ridges, and -while Julius lay gazing at the cirrus clouds, I propped myself upon one -elbow and enjoyed the scene below. It was my pleasure always to know a -thing by name and recognise it--the different churches, the prison, the -University buildings, the particular house where my own lodgings were; -and I was searching for Frederick Street, trying to pick out the actual -corner where George Street cut through it, when I became aware that, -across the great dip of intervening valley, something equally saw me. -This was my first impression--that something watched me. - -I placed it, naturally enough, where my thought was fixed, across -the dip; but the same instant I realised my mistake. It was much -nearer--close beside me. Something was watching us intently. We were -no longer quite alone. And, with the discovery, there grew gradually -about me a sense of indescribable loveliness, a soft and tender beauty -impossible to define precisely. It came like one of those enveloping -moods of childhood, when everything is alive and anything may happen. -My heart, it seemed, expanded. It turned wild. - -I looked round at Julius. He still lay on his back as before, with the -difference that his hands now were folded across his eyes and that his -body was motionless and rigid as a log. He hardly breathed. He seemed -part and parcel of the earth, merged in the hill-side as naturally as -the heather. - -Yet something had happened, or was in the act of happening, to him. The -forgotten schoolday atmosphere of Other Places stole over me as I gazed. - -I made no sound; I did not speak; my eyes passed quickly from the -panorama of town and sea to a flock of mountain sheep that nibbled -the patches of coarse grass not far away. The feeling that something -invisible yet conscious approached us from the empty spaces of the -afternoon became a certainty. My spirit lifted. There was a new and -vital relationship between my inner nature, so to speak, and my -material environment. My nerves were quivering, the sense of beauty -remained, but my questioning wonder changed to awe. Somewhere about me -on that bare hill-side Nature had become aggressively alive. - -Yet no one of my senses in particular conveyed the great impression; -it seemed wrought of them all in combination--a large, synthetic, -universal report sent forth by the natural things about me. Some -flooding energy, like a tide of unknown power, rose through my body. -But my brain was clear. One by one I ticked off the different senses; -it was neither sight, smell, touch, nor hearing that was individually -affected. There was vague uneasiness, it seems, as well, for I sought -instinctively what was of commonplace import in the landscape. I stared -at the group of nibbling sheep. My sight wandered to the larches on -my right, some thirty yards away. Next, seeking things more humanly -comforting still, I fixed my gaze upon my nailed and muddy boots. - -At the same moment Julius became suddenly alert. He sat erect. - -The change in his attitude startled me; he seemed intent upon something -in the nearer landscape that escaped me. He, like myself, was aware -that other life approached; he shared my strange emotion of delight -and power; but in him was no uneasiness, for whereas I questioned -nervously, he _knew_ with joy. Yet he was doing nothing definite, so -far as I could see. The change of attitude resulted in no act. His -face, however, was so intense, so animated, that I understood it was -the touch of his mind that had reached my own so stimulatingly, and -that what was coming--came through him. His eyes were fixed, I saw, -upon the little grove of larches. - -I made no movement, but watched the larches and his face alternately. -And what I can only call the childhood mood of make-believe enormously -increased. It extended, however, far beyond the child’s domain; it -seemed all-potent, irresistibly imperative. By the mere effort of my -will I could--create. Some power in me hidden, lost, unused, seemed -trying to assert itself. I merely had to say “Let there be a ball -before me in the air,” and by the simple fiat of this power it must -appear. I had only to will the heather at my feet to move, and it must -move--as though, in the act of willing, some intense, intermolecular -energy were set free. There was almost the sense that I had this power -in me now--that I had certainly once known how to use it. - -I can hardly describe intelligently what followed. It is so easy to -persuade myself that I was dreaming or deceived, yet so difficult -to prove that I was neither one nor other, but keenly observant and -wholly master of my mind. For by this time it was clear to me that the -sensation of being watched, of knowing another living presence close, -as also of sharing this tender beauty, issued primarily from the grove -of larches. My being and their own enjoyed some inter-relationship, -exquisite yet natural. There was exchange between us. And the wind, -blowing stiffly up the heather slopes, then lifted the lower branches -of the trees, so that I saw deep within the little grove, yet at -the same time behind and beyond them. Something that their veil of -greenness draped went softly stirring. The same minute it came out -towards me with a motion best described as rushing. The heart of the -grove became instinct with life, life that I could appreciate and -understand, each individual tree contributing its thread to form the -composite whole, Julius and myself contributing as well. This Presence -swam out through the afternoon atmosphere towards us, whirring, almost -dancing, as it came. There was an impression of volume--of gigantic -energy. The air in our immediate neighbourhood became visible. - -Yet to say that I saw something seems as untrue as to say that I -saw nothing. Form was indistinguishable from movement. The air, the -larches and ourselves were marvellously entangled with the sunshine -and the landscape. I was aware of an intelligence different from my -own, immensely powerful, but somehow not a human intelligence. Superb, -unearthly beauty touched the very air. - -“Hush!” I heard LeVallon whisper. “Feel-with it, but do not think.” - -The advice was unnecessary. I felt; but I had no time to think, no -inclination either. A long-forgotten “I” was active. My familiar, daily -self shrank out of sight. Vibrant, sensitive, amazingly extended, my -being responded in an _immediate_ fashion to things about me. Any -“thoughts” I had came afterwards. - -For the greenness whirled and flashed like sunlight upon water or on -fluttering silk. With an intricate and complex movement it appeared -to spin and revolve within itself; and I cannot dare to say from what -detail came the absolute persuasion that it was alive in the same -sense that I myself and Julius were alive, while of another order of -intelligence. - -Julius rose suddenly to his feet, and a fear came over me that he was -going to touch it; for he moved forwards with an inviting gesture that -caused me an exhilarating distress as when a friend steps too near the -edge of a precipice. But the next moment I saw that he was directing it -rather, with the immediate result that it swerved sharply to one side, -passed with swiftness up the steep hill-side, and--disappeared. It -raced by me with a soft and roaring noise, leaving a marked disturbance -of the air that was like a wind within a wind. I seemed pushed aside -by the fringe of a small but violent whirlwind. The booming already -sounded some distance up the slope. - -“I’ve lost it!” I remember shouting with a pang of disappointment. For -it seemed that the power and delight in me both ebbed and that energy -went with them. - -“Because you thought a moment instead of felt!” cried Julius. He -turned, holding up one hand by way of warning. His voice was more than -ordinarily resonant, his whole body charged with force. “Now--watch the -sheep,” he added in a lower tone. And, although the words surprised me -in one way, in another I anticipated them. There passed across his face -a momentary expression of intense effort, but even before the sentence -was finished I heard the rushing of the frightened animals, and -understood something of what was happening. There was panic in them. -The entire flock ran headlong down the steep slope of heather. The -thunder of their feet is in my ears to-day. I see their heaving backs -of dirty wool climbing in tumbling fashion one upon another as they -pressed tightly in a wedge-shaped outline. They plunged frantically -together down the steep place to some level turf below. But, even then, -I think they would not have stopped, had not a sound, half cry, half -word of command, from my companion brought them to a sudden halt again. -They paused in their wild descent. Like a single animal the entire -company of them--twenty or thirty, perhaps, all told--were arrested. -They looked stupidly about them, turned their heads in the opposite -direction, and with one accord began once more peacefully--eating grass. - -The incident had occupied, perhaps, three minutes. - -“The larches!” I heard, and the same instant that softly-roaring thing, -not wind, yet carried inside the wind, again raced past me, going this -time in the direction of the grove. There was just time to turn, when -I heard a clap--not unlike the sound of an open hand that strikes a -pillow, though on a far vaster scale--and it seemed to me that the -bodies of the trees trembled for a moment where they melted into one -another amid the general greenness of stems and branches. - -For the fraction of a second they shone and pulsed and quivered. -Something opened; something closed again. The enthralling sense of -beauty left my heart, the power sank away, the huge energy retired. -And, in a flash, all was normal once again; it was a cool October -afternoon upon the Pentland Hills, and a wind was blowing freshly from -the distant sea. - -I was lying on the grass again exactly as before; Julius, watching me -keenly beneath the lids of his narrowed eyes, had just flung himself -down to keep me company.... - -“The barriers, you see, are thin,” he said quietly. “There really are -no barriers at all.” - -This was the first sentence I heard, though his voice, it seemed, had -been speaking for some considerable time. I had closed my eyes--to -shut out a rising tide of wonderful and familiar pictures whose beauty -somehow I sought vigorously to deny. Yet there was this flare of vivid -memory: a penetrating odour of acrid herbs that burned in the clearing -of a sombre forest; a low stone altar, the droning of men’s voices -chanting monotonously as they drew near in robes of white and yellow -... and I seemed aware of some forgotten but exquisite ceremonial by -means of which natural forces were drawn upon to benefit the beings of -the worshippers.... - -“All is transmissible,” rose LeVallon’s voice out of the picture, “all -can be shared. That was the aim and meaning of our worship....” - -I opened my eyes and looked at him. The expansion of my consciousness -had been a genuine thing; the power and joy both real; the worship -authentic. Now they had left me and the shrinkage caused me pain; there -was a poignant sense of loss. I felt afraid again. - -“But it’s all gone,” I answered in a hushed tone, “and everything has -left me.” Reason began to argue and deny. I could scarcely retain the -memory of those big sensations which had offered a channel into an -extended world. - -Julius searched my face with his patient, inward-gazing eyes. - -“Your attitude prevented,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation; “it -became unsafe.” - -“You brought it?” I faltered. - -He nodded. “A human will,” he replied, “and a physical body--as -channel. Your resistance broke the rhythm and brought danger in.” And -after a pause he added significantly: “For the return--the animals -served well.” He smiled. “Ran down a steep place into the sea--almost.” - -And, abruptly then, the modern world came back, as though what I -had just experienced had been but some pictured memory, thrust up, -withdrawn. I was aware that my fellow student at Edinburgh University, -LeVallon by name, lay beside me in the heather, his face charged with -peace and happiness ... that the dusk was falling, and that the air was -turning chilly. - -Without further speech we rose and made our way down from the windy -ridge, and the chief change I noticed in myself seemed to be a marked -increase of vitality that was singularly exhilarating, yet included -the touch of awe already mentioned. The feeling was in me that life of -some non-human kind had approached us both. I looked about me, first at -Julius, then at the landscape, growing dim. The wind blew strongly from -the sea. Far in the distance rose the outline of the Forth Bridge, -then a-building, its skeleton, red in the sunset, rearing across the -water like a huge sea-serpent with ribs of gleaming steel. I could -almost hear the hammering of the iron.... And, at our feet, the first -lights of the Old Town presently twinkled through the veil of dusk and -smoke that wove itself comfortingly about the habitations of men and -women. - -My thoughts were busy, but for a long time no speech passed. -Occasionally I stole glances at my companion as we plodded downwards -through the growing dusk, and there seemed a curious glow about his -face that made him more clearly visible than the other objects about -us. The way he looked back from time to time across his shoulder -increased my impression--by no means a pleasant one just then--that -something followed us from those heathery hill-tops, kept close behind -us through the muddy lanes, and watched our movements across the fields -and hedges. - -I have never forgotten that walk home in the autumn twilight, nor -the sense of haunting possibilities that hung about it like an -atmosphere--the feeling that other life loomed close upon our steps. -Before Roslin Chapel was passed, and the welcome lights of the town -were near, this consciousness of a ghostly following suite became -a certainty, and I felt that every copse and field sent out some -messenger to swell the throng. We had established touch with another -region of life, of power, and the link was not yet fully broken. - -And the sentences Julius let fall from time to time, half to himself -and half to me, increased my nervousness instead of soothing it. - -“The gods, you see, are not dead,” he said, waving his hand towards -the hills, “but only distant. They are still accessible to all who can -feel-with their powers. In your self-consciousness a door stands open; -they can be approached--through Nature. Ages ago, when the sun was -younger, and you and I were nearer to the primitive beauty ...” - -A cat, darting silently across the road like a shadow from a cottage -door, gave me such a start that I lost the remainder of the sentence. -His arm was linked in mine as he added softly: - -“... Only, what is borrowed in this way must always be returned, for -otherwise the equilibrium is destroyed, and the borrower suffers -until he puts it right again. So utterly exact is the balance of the -universe....” - -I deliberately turned my head away, aware that something in me _would_ -not listen. The conviction grew that he had a motive in the entire -business. That inner secret dread revived. Yet, in spite of it, there -was a curiosity that refused to let me escape altogether. It was bound -to satisfy itself. The question seemed to force itself out of my lips: - -“They are unconscious, though, these Powers?” And, having asked it, -I would willingly have blotted out the words. I heard his low voice -answer so far away it seemed an echo from the hills behind us. - -“Of a different order,” he replied, “until they are part of you; and -then they share _your_ consciousness....” - -“Hostile or friendly?” I believed I thought this question only, but -apparently I spoke it out aloud. Julius paused a moment. Then he said -briefly: - -“Neither one nor other, of themselves. Merely that they resent an order -being placed upon them. It involves mastery or destruction.” - -The words sank into me with something like a shudder. It seemed that -everything I asked and everything he answered were as familiar as -though we spoke of some lecture of the day before. What I had witnessed -shared this familiarity, too, though more faintly. All belonged to this -incalculable past he for ever searched to bring to light. Yet of what -dim act of mine, of his, or of another working with us, this mysterious -shudder was born, I still remained in ignorance, though an ignorance -that seemed now slowly about to lift. - -Then, suddenly, the final question was out before I could prevent it. -It came irresistibly: - -“And if, instead of animals, it had been men...?” - -The effect was instantaneous, and very curious. I could have sworn he -had been waiting for that question. For he turned upon me with passion -that shone a moment in his pale and eager face, then died away as -swiftly as it came. His hand tightened upon my arm; he drew me closer. -He bent down. I saw his eyes gleam in the darkness as he whispered: - -“Such men would know themselves cut off from their own kind, a gulf -between humanity--and themselves. For the elemental powers may be -borrowed, but not kept. There would burn in them fires no human hands -could quench, because no human hands had lit them. Yet their vast -energies might lift our little self-seeking race into that grander -universal life where----” - -He stopped dead in the darkened road and fixed me with his eyes. He -said the next words with a vehement conviction that struck cold into my -very entrails: - -“He who retains within himself the elemental powers which are the -deities in Nature, is both above and below his kind.” - -A moment he hid his face in his hands; then, opening his arms wide -and throwing his head back to the sky, he raised his voice; he almost -cried aloud: “A man who has worshipped the Powers of Wind and the -Powers of Fire, and has retained them in himself, keeping them out of -their appointed places, is born of them. He is become their child. He -is a son of Wind and Fire. And though he break and flame with energies -that could regenerate the world, he must remain alien and outcast -from humanity, untouched by love or sorrow, stranger to joy, aloof, -impersonal, until by full and complete restitution, he restore the -balance in the surrender of his stolen powers.” - -It seemed to me he towered; that his stature grew; that the darkness -round his very head turned bright; and that a wind from nowhere went -driving down the sky behind him with a wailing violence. The amazing -outburst took me off my feet by its suddenness. An emotion from the -depths rose up and shook me. What happened next I hardly realised, only -that he caught my arm and hurried along the road at a reckless, half -stumbling speed, and that the lonely hills behind us followed in the -darkness.... - -A few moments afterwards we found ourselves among the busy lights and -traffic of the streets. His calm had returned as suddenly as it had -deserted him. Such moments with him were so rare, he seemed almost -unnatural, superhuman. And presently we separated at the corner of the -North Bridge, going home to our respective rooms. He made no single -reference to the storm that had come upon him in this extraordinary -manner; I likewise spoke no word. We said good night. He turned one -way, I another. But, as I went, his burning sentences still haunted -me; I saw his face like moonlight through the tangle of a wood; and I -_knew_ that all we had seen and heard and spoken that afternoon had -reference to a past that we had shared, yet also to a future, which he -and I awaited together for the coming of a--third. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - “_Strange as it may appear to the modern mind, whose one - ambition is to harden and formalise itself ... the ancient mind - conceived of knowledge in a totally different fashion. It did not - crystallise itself into a hardened point, but, remaining fluid, - knew that the mode of knowledge suitable to its nature was by - intercourse and blending. Its experience was ... that it could - blend with intelligence greater than itself, that it could have - intercourse with the gods._”--“Some Mystical Adventures” (G. R. - S. Mead). - - -An inevitable result of this experience was that, for me, a reaction -followed. I had no stomach for such adventures. Though carried away at -the moment by the enthralling character of the feelings roused that -afternoon, my normal self, my upper self as I had come to call it, -protested--with the result that I avoided Julius. I changed my seat in -the class-rooms, giving as excuse that I could not hear the lecturer; -I gave up attending post-mortems and operations where I knew that he -would be; and if I saw him in the street I would turn aside or dive -into some shop until the danger of our meeting passed. Ashamed of my -feebleness, I yet could not bring myself to face him and thrash the -matter out. - -Other influences also were at work, for my father, it so happened, and -the girl I was engaged to marry, her family too, were all of them in -Edinburgh just about that time, and some instinct warned me that they -and LeVallon must not meet. In the latter case particularly I obeyed -this warning instinct, for in the influence of Julius there hid some -strain of opposition towards these natural affections. I was aware of -it unconsciously, perhaps. It seemed he made me question the reality of -my love; made me doubt and hesitate; sometimes almost made me challenge -the value of these ties that meant so much to me. From his point of -view, I knew, these emotions belonged to transient relationships -of one brief section, and to become centred in them involved the -obliteration of the larger view. His attitude was more impersonal: Love -everyone, but do not lose perspective by focusing your entire self in -one or two. It was _au fond_ a selfish pleasure merely; it delayed the -development of the permanent personality; it destroyed--more important -still--the sense of kinship with the universe which was the basic -principle with him. It need not: but it generally did. - -For some weeks, therefore, our talks and walks were interrupted; I -devoted myself to work, to intercourse with those I loved, and led -generally the normal existence of a university student who was reading -for examinations that were of importance to his future career in life. - -Yet, though we rarely met, and certainly held no converse for some -time, interruption actually there was none at all. To pretend it were a -farce. The inner relationship continued as before. Physical separation -meant absolutely nothing in those ties that so strangely and so -intimately knit our deeper lives together. There was no more question -of break between us than there is question of a break in time when -light is extinguished and the clock becomes invisible. His presence -always stood beside me; the beauty of his pale, un-English face kept -ever in my thoughts; I heard his whisper in my dreams at night, and the -ideas his curious language watered continued growing with a strength I -could not question. - -There were two selves in me then as in our schooldays: one that -resisted, and one that yearned. When together, it was the former that -asserted its rights, but when apart, oddly enough, it was the latter. -There is little question, however, that the latter was the stronger of -the two. Thus, the moment I found myself alone again, my father and my -fiancée both gone, we rushed together like two ends of an elastic that -had been stretched too long apart. - -And almost immediately, as though the opportunity must not be lost, he -spoke to me of an experiment he had in view. - -By what network of persuasiveness he induced me to witness, if not -actually to co-operate in, this experiment, I cannot pretend at this -distance to remember. I think it is true that he used no persuasion -at all, but that at the first mention of it my deeper being met the -proposal with curious sympathy. At the horror and audacity my upper -self shrank back aghast; the thing seemed wholly impermissible and -dreadful; something unholy, as of blasphemy, lay in it too. But, as -usual, when this mysterious question of “Other Places” was involved, -in the end I followed blindly where he led. My older being held the -casting vote. And the reason--I admit it frankly--was that somewhere -behind the amazing glamour of it all lay--truth. While reason scoffed, -my heart remembered and believed. - -Moreover, in this particular instance, a biting curiosity had its -influence too. I was wholly sceptical of results. The thing was mad, -incredible, even wicked. It could never happen. Yet, while I said these -words, and more besides, there ran a haunting terror in me underground -that, after all ... that possibly ... I cannot even set down in words -the nature of my doubt. I can merely affirm that something in me was -not absolutely sure. - -“The essential thing,” he told me, “is to find an empty ‘instrument’ -that is in perfect order--young, vigorous, the tissues unwasted by -decay or illness. There must have been no serious deterioration of the -organs, muscles, and so forth.” - -I knew then that this new experiment was akin to that other I had -already witnessed. The experience on the Pentlands had also been -deliberately brought about. The only difference was that this second -one he announced beforehand. Further, it was of a higher grade. The -channel of evocation, instead of being in the vegetable kingdom, was in -the human. - -I understood his meaning, and suggested that someone in deep trance -might meet the conditions, for in trance he held that the occupant, or -soul, was gone elsewhere, the tenement of flesh deserted. - -But he shook his head. That was not, he said, legitimate. The owner -would return. He watched me with a curious smile as he said this. I -knew then that he referred to the final emptiness of a vacated body. - -“Sudden death,” I said, while his eyes flashed back the answer. “And -the Elemental Powers?” I asked quickly. - -“Wind and fire,” he replied. And in order to carry his plan into -execution he proposed to avail himself of his free access to the -students’ Dissecting Room. - -During the longish interval between the conception and carrying out -of this preposterous experiment I shifted like a weathercock between -acceptance and refusal. My doubts were torturing. There were times -when I treated it as the proposal of a lunatic that at worst could -work no injury to anyone concerned. But there were also times when a -certain familiar reality clothed it with a portentous actuality. I was -reminded faintly of something similar I had been connected with before. -Dim figures of this lost familiarity stalked occasionally across the -field of inner sight. Julius and I had done this thing together long, -long ago, “when the sun was younger,” and when we were “nearer to the -primitive beauty,” as he phrased it. In reverie, in dreams, in moments -when thinking was in abeyance, this odd conviction asserted itself. -It had to do with a Memory of some worship that once was mighty and -effective; when august Presences walked the earth in stupendous images -of power; and traffic with them had been useful, possible. The barrier -between the human and the non-human, between Man and Nature, was not -built. Wind and fire! It was always wind and fire that he spoke of. And -I remember one vivid and terrific dream in particular in which I heard -again a voice pronounce that curious name of “Concerighé,” and, though -the details were blurred on waking, I clearly grasped that certain -elemental powers had been evoked by us for purposes of our own and had -not been suffered to return to their appointed places; further, that -concerned with us in the awful and solemn traffic was--another. We had -been three. - -This dream, of course, I easily explained as due directly to my -talks with Julius, but my dread was not so easily dismissed, and -that I overcame it finally and consented to attend was due partly to -the extraordinary curiosity I felt, and partly to this inexplicable -attraction in my deeper self which urged me to see the matter through. -Something inevitable about it forced me. Yet, but for the settled -conviction that behind the abhorrent proposal lay some earnest purpose -of LeVallon’s, not ignoble in itself, I should certainly have refused. -For, though saying little, and not taking me fully into his confidence, -he did manage to convey the assurance that this thing was not to -be carried out as an end, but as a means to an end, in itself both -legitimate and necessary. It was, I gathered, a kind of preliminary -trial--an attempt that _might_ possibly succeed, even without the -presence of the third. - -“Sooner or later,” he said, aware that I hesitated, “it must be faced. -Here is an opportunity for us, at least. If we succeed, there is no -need to wait for--another. It is a question. We can but try.” - -And try accordingly we did. - -The occasion I shall never forget--a still, cold winter’s night towards -the middle of December, most of the students already gone down for -Christmas, and small chance of the room being occupied. For even in -the busiest time before examinations there were few men who cared to -avail themselves of the gruesome privilege of night-work, for which -special permission, too, was necessary. Julius, in any case, made his -preparations well, and the janitor of the grey-stone building on the -hill, whose top floor was consecrated to this grisly study of life in -death, had surrendered the keys even before we separated earlier in the -evening for supper at the door of the post-mortem theatre. - -“Upstairs at eleven o’clock,” he whispered, “and if I’m late--the -preparations may detain me--go inside and wait. Your presence is -necessary to success.” He laid his hand on my shoulder; he looked at -me searchingly a moment, almost beseechingly, as though he detected -the strain of opposition in me. “And be as sympathetic as you can,” he -begged. “At least, do not actively oppose.” Then, as he turned away, -“I’ll try to be punctual,” he added, smiling, “but--well, you know as -well as I do----!” He shrugged his shoulders and was gone. - -_You know!_ Somehow or other it was true: I did know. The interval of -several hours he would spend in his inner chamber concentrated upon -the process of feeling-with--evoking. He would have no food, no rest, -no moment’s pause. At the appointed hour he would arrive, charged with -the essential qualities of these two elemental powers which in dim past -ages, summoned by another audacious “experiment” from their rightful -homes, he now sought to “restore.” He would seek to return what had -been “borrowed.” He would attempt to banish them again. For they could -only be thus banished, as they had been summoned--through the channel -of a human organism. They were of a loftier order, then, than the -Powers for whose return the animal organisms of the sheep had served. - -I went my way down Frederick Street with a heart, I swear, already -palpitating. - -Of the many thrilling experiences that grew out of my acquaintance -with this extraordinary being, I think that night remains -supreme--certainly, until our paths met again in the Jura Mountains. -But, strangest of all, is the fact that throughout the ghastly horror -of what occurred was--beauty! To convey this beauty is beyond any -power that I possess, yet it was there, a superb and awful beauty that -informed the meanest detail of what I witnessed. The experiment failed -of course; in the accomplishment of LeVallon’s ultimate purpose, that -is, it failed; but the failure was due, apparently, to one cause alone: -that the woman was not present. - -It is most difficult to describe, and my pen, indeed, shrinks from -setting down so revolting a performance. Yet this curious high beauty -redeems it in my memory as I now recall the adventure through the -haze of years, and I believe the beauty was due to a deeper fact -impossible to convey in words. Behind the little “modern” experiment, -and parallel to it, ran another, older Memory that was fraught with -some significance of eternity. This parent memory penetrated and -overshadowed the smaller copy of it; it exalted what was ugly, uplifted -what seemed abominable, sublimated the distressing failure into an -image of what might have been magnificent. I mean, in a word, that -this experiment was a poor attempt to reconstruct an older ritual of -spiritual significance whereby those natural forces, once worshipped as -the gods, might combine with qualities similar to their own in human -beings. The memory of a more august and effective ceremony moved all -the time behind the little reconstruction. The beauty was derived from -my dim recollection of some transcendent but now forgotten worship. - - * * * * * - -At the appointed hour I made my way across the Bridge and towards the -Old Town where the University buildings stood. It was, as I said, a -bitter night. The Castle Rock and Cathedral swam in a flood of silvery -moonlight; frost sparkled on the roofs; the spires of Edinburgh shone -in the crystal wintry atmosphere. The air, so keen, was windless. -Few people were about at this late hour, and I had the feeling that -the occasional pedestrians, hurrying homewards in tightly-buttoned -overcoats, eyed me askance. No one of them was going in the same -direction as myself. They questioned my purpose, looked sharply over -their shoulders, then quickened their pace away from me towards the -houses where the fires burned in cosy human sitting-rooms. - -At the door of the great square building itself I hesitated a moment, -hiding in the shadow of the overhanging roof. It was easy to pretend -that moral disapproval warned me to turn back, but the simpler truth is -that I was afraid. At the best of times the Dissecting Room, with its -silent cargo of dreadful forms and faces, was a chamber of horrors I -could never become hardened to as the majority of students did; but on -this occasion, when a theory concerning life alien to humanity was to -be put to so strange a test, I confess that the prospect set my nerves -a-quivering and made the muscles of my legs turn weak. A cold sensation -ran down my spine, and it was not the wintry night alone that caused it. - -Opening the heavy door with an effort, I went in and waited a moment -till the clanging echo had subsided through the deserted building. My -imagination figured the footsteps of a crowd hurrying away behind the -sound down the long stone corridors. In the silence that followed I -slowly began climbing the steps of granite, hoping devoutly that Julius -would be waiting for me at the top. I was a little late; he might -possibly have arrived before me. Up the four flights of stairs I went -stealthily, trying to muffle my footsteps, putting my weight heavily -upon the balustrade, and doing all I could to make no sound at all. For -it seemed to me that my movements were both watched and heard, and that -those motionless, silent forms above were listening for my approach, -and knew that I was coming. - -On the landings at each turn lay a broad sweet patch of moonlight that -fell through the lofty windows, and but for these the darkness would -have been complete. No light, it seemed to me, had ever looked more -clean and pure and welcome. I thought of the lone Pentland ridges, -and of the sea, lying calm and still outside beneath the same sheet -of silver, the air of night all keen and fragrant. The heather slopes -came back to me, the larches and the flock of nibbling sheep. I thought -of these in detail, of my fire-lit rooms in Frederick Street, of the -vicarage garden at home in Kent where my boyhood had been spent; I -thought of a good many things, truth to tell, all of them as remote as -possible from my present surroundings; but when I eventually reached -the topmost landing and found LeVallon was not there, I thought of one -thing only--that I was alone. Just beyond me, through that door of -frosted glass, lay in its most loathsome form the remnant of humanity -left behind by death. - -In the daytime, when noisy students, callous and unimaginative, -thronged the room, the horror of it retreated, modified by the vigorous -vitality of these doctors of the future; but now at night, amid the -ominous silence, with darkness over the town and the cold of outer -space dropping down upon the world, as though linking forces with that -other final cold within the solemn chamber, it seemed quite otherwise. -I stood shivering and afraid upon the landing, angry that I could have -lent myself to so preposterous and abominable a scheme, yet determined, -so long as my will held firm, to go through with it to the end. - -He had asked me to wait for him--inside. - -Knowing that every minute of hesitation must weaken my powers of -resolve, I moved at once towards the door, then paused again. The -comforting roar of the traffic floated to my ears; I heard the distant -tinkle of a tramcar bell, the boom of Edinburgh, a confused noise -of feet and wheels and voices, far away, it is true, but distinctly -reassuring. - -Outside, the life of humanity rolled upon its accustomed way, recking -little of the trembling figure that stood on the top floor of this -silent building, one hand on the door upon whose further side so many -must one day come to final rest. For one hand already touched the -freezing knob, and I was in the act of turning it when another sound, -that was certainly not the murmur of the town, struck sharply through -the stillness and brought all movement in me to a sudden halt. - -It came from within, I thought at first; and it was like a wave of -sighs that rose and fell, sweeping against the glass door a moment, -then passing away as abruptly as it came. Yet it was more like wind -than sighs through human lips, and immediately, then, I understood that -it _was_ wind. I caught my breath again with keen relief. Wind was -rising from the hills, and this was its first messenger running down -among the roofs and chimney-pots. I heard its wailing echoes long after -it had died away. - -But a moment later it returned, louder and stronger than before, -and this time, hearing it so close, I know not what secret embassies -of wonder touched me from the night outside, deposited their -undecipherable messages, and were gone again. I can only say that the -key of my emotions changed, changed, moreover, with a swelling rush -as when the heavier stops are pulled out upon an organ-board. For, on -entering the building, the sky had been serenely calm, and keen frost -locked the currents of the air; whereas now that wind went wailing -round the walls as though it sought an entrance, almost as though its -crying voice veiled purpose. There seemed a note of menace, eager and -peremptory, in its sudden rush and drop. It knocked upon the stones -and upon the roof above my head with curious and repeated buffets of -sound that resembled the “clap” I had heard that October afternoon -among the larches, only a hundred times repeated and a hundred-fold -increased. The change in myself, moreover, was similar to the change -then experienced--the flow and drive of bigger consciousness that -helped to banish fear. I seemed to know about that wind, to feel its -life and being, indeed, to share it. No longer was I merely John Mason, -a student in Edinburgh, separate and distinct from all about me, but -was--I realised it amazingly--a bit of life in the universe, not -isolated even from the wind. - -The beauty of the sensation did not last; it passed through me, -linked to that insistent roar; but the fact that I had felt it gave -me courage. The stops were instantly pushed in again ... and the same -minute the swing-door closed behind me with a sullen thud. - -I stood within the chamber; Julius, I saw in a moment, was not there. -I moved through the long, narrow room, keeping close beside the wall, -taking up my position finally about halfway down, where I could command -the six tall windows and the door. The moon was already too high to -send her rays directly through the panes, but from the extensive -sky-lights she shed a diffused, pale glow upon the scene, and my eyes, -soon accustomed to the semi-darkness, saw everything quite as clearly -as I cared about. - -In front of me stretched the silent, crowded room, patchy in the -moonshine, but with shadows deeply gathered in the corners; and, row -after row upon the white marble slabs, lay the tenantless forms in -the grotesque, unnatural positions as the students had left them a -few hours before. The picture does not invite detailed description, -but I at once experienced the peculiar illusion that attacks new -students even in the daytime. It seemed that the sightless eyes turned -slowly round to stare at me, that the shrunken lips half opened as -in soundless speech, and that the heads with one accord shifted to -an angle whence they could observe and watch me better. There went a -rustling through that valley of dry bones as though life returned for a -moment to drive the broken machinery afresh. - -This sensible illusion was, of course, one I could easily dismiss. -More difficult, however, was the subtler attack that came upon me from -behind the sensory impressions. For, while I stood with my back against -the wall, listening intently for LeVallon’s step upon the stairs, I -could not keep from my mind the terror of those huddled sheep upon the -Pentland ridges; the whole weird force of his theories about “life” in -Nature came beating against my mind, aided, moreover, by some sympathy -in myself that could never wholly ridicule their possible truth. - -I gazed round me at the motionless, discarded forms, used for one -brief “section,” then cast aside, and as I did so my mind naturally -focused itself upon a point of dreadful and absorbing interest--which -one was to be the subject of the experiment? So short a time ago had -each been a nest of keenest activity and emotion, enabling its occupant -to reap its harvest of past actions while sowing that which it must -reap later again in its new body, already perhaps now a-forming. And -of these discarded vehicles, one was to be the channel through which -two elemental Powers, evoked in vanished ages, might return to their -appointed place. I heard that clamouring wind against the outer walls; -I felt within me the warmth of a strange enthusiasm rise and glow; -and it seemed to me just then that the whole proposal was as true and -simple and in the natural order of things as birth or death, or any -normal phenomenon to the terror and glory of which mankind has grown -accustomed through prolonged familiarity. To this point, apparently, -had the change in my feelings brought me. The dreadful novelty had -largely gone. Something would happen, nor would it be entirely -unfamiliar. - -Then, on a marble slab beside the door, the body of a boy, fresh, -white and sweet, and obviously brought in that very day, since it was -as yet untouched by knife or scalpel, “drew” my attention of its own -accord--and I knew at once that I had found it. - -Oddly enough, the discovery brought no increase of fearful thrill; it -was as natural as though I had helped to place it there myself. And, -again, for some reason, that delightful sense of power swept me; my -diminutive modern self slipped off to hide; I remembered that a million -suns surrounded me; that the earth was but an insignificant member of -one of the lesser systems; that man’s vaunted Reason was as naught -compared to the oceans of what might be known and possible; and that -this body I wore and used, like that white, empty one upon the slab, -was but a transient vehicle through which _I_, as a living part of the -stupendous cosmos, acted out my little piece of development in the -course of an eternal journey. This wind, this fire, that Julius spoke -of, were equally the vehicles of other energies, alive as myself, only -less tamed and cabined, yet similarly obedient, again, to the laws -of their own beings. The extraordinary mood poured through me like a -flood--and once more passed away. And the wind fled singing round the -building with a shout. - -I looked steadily at the beautiful but vacated framework that the soul -had used--used well or ill I knew not--lying there so quietly, so -calmly, the smooth skin as yet untouched by knife, unmarred by needle, -surrounded on all sides by the ugly and misshapen crew of older death; -and as I looked, I thought of some fair shell the tide had left among -the seaweed wrack, a flower of beauty shining ’mid decay. In the -moonlight I could plainly see the thin and wasted ribs, the fixed blue -eyes still staring as in life, the lank and tangled hair, the listless -fingers that a few hours before must have been active in the flush of -health, and passionately loved by more than one assuredly. For, though -I knew not the manner of the soul’s out-passing, this boy must have -suddenly met death that very day. And I found it odd that he should now -be lying here, since usually the students’ work is concerned to study -the processes of illness and decay. It confirmed my certainty that here -was the channel LeVallon meant to use. - -Time for longer reflection, however, there was none, for just then -another gust of this newly-risen wind fell against the building with a -breaking roar, and at the same moment the swing door opened and Julius -LeVallon stood within the room. - -Whether windows had burst, or the great skylights overhead been left -unfastened, I had no time, nor inclination either, to discover, but -I remember that the wind tore past him down the entire length of the -high-ceilinged chamber, tossing the hair uncannily upon a dozen heads -in front of me and even stirring the dust about my feet. It was almost -as though we stood upon an open plain and met the unobstructed tempest -in our teeth. - -Yet the rush and vehemence with which he entered startled me, for I -found myself glad of the support which a high student’s stool afforded. -I leaned against it heavily, while Julius, after standing by the door a -moment, turned immediately then to the left. He knew exactly where to -look. Simultaneously, he saw me too. - -Our eyes, in that atmosphere of shadow and soft moonlight, met also -across centuries. He spoke my name; but it was no name I answered to -To-day. - -“Come, Silvatela,” he said, “lend me your will and sympathy. Feel now -with Wind and Fire. For both are here, and the time is favourable. At -last, I shall perhaps return what has been borrowed.” He beckoned me -with a gesture of strange dignity. “It is not that time of balanced -forces we most desire--the Equinox--but it is the winter solstice,” he -went on, “when the sun is nearest. That, too, is favourable. We _may_ -transcend the appointed boundaries. Across the desert comes the leaping -wind. Both heat and air are with us. Come!” - -And, having vaguely looked for some kind of elaborate preparation -or parade, this sudden summons took me by surprise a little, though -the language somehow did not startle me. I sprang up; the stool fell -sideways, then clattered noisily upon the concrete floor. I made my -way quickly between the peering faces. It seemed no longer strange, -this abrupt disturbance of two familiar elements, nor did I remark -with unusual curiosity that the wind went rushing and crying about the -room, while the heat grew steadily within me so that my actual skin was -drenched with perspiration. All came about, indeed, quickly, naturally, -and without any pomp of dreadful ceremonial as I had expected. Julius -had come with power in his hands; and preparation, if any, had already -taken place elsewhere. He spoke no further word as I approached, but -bent low over the thin, white form, his face pale, stern and beautiful -as I had never seen it before. I thought of a star that entered the -roof of those Temple Memories, falling beneficently upon the great -concave mirrors where the incense rose in a column of blue smoke. -His entire personality, when at length I stood beside him, radiated -an atmosphere of force as though charged with some kind of elemental -activity that was intense and inexhaustible. The wonder and beauty -of it swept me from head to foot. The air grew marvellously heated. -It rose in beating waves that accompanied the rushing wind, like a -furnace driven by some powerful, artificial draught; in his immediate -neighbourhood it whirled and roared. It drew me closer. I, too, found -myself bending down above the motionless, stretched form, oblivious of -the other crowded slabs about us. - -So familiar it all seemed suddenly. Some such scene I had witnessed -surely many a time elsewhere. I knew it all before. Upon success hung -issues of paramount importance to his soul, to mine, to the soul of -another who, for some reason unexplained, was not present with us, and, -somehow, also, to the entire universe of which we formed, with these -two elements, a living, integral portion. A weight of solemn drama lay -behind our little show. It seemed to me the universe looked on and -waited. The issue was of cosmic meaning. - -Then, as I entered the sphere of LeVallon’s personality, a touch of -dizziness caught me for an instant, as though this running wind, this -accumulating heat, emanated directly from his very being; and, before -I quite recovered myself, the moonlight was extinguished like a lamp -blown out. Across the sky, apparently, rushed clouds that changed the -spreading skylights into thick curtains, while into the room of death -came a blast of storm that I thought must tear the windows from their -very sockets in the stone. And with the wind came also a yet further -increase of heat that was like a touch of naked fire on some inner -membrane. - -I dare not assert that I was wholly master of myself throughout the -swift, dramatic scene that followed in darkness and in tumult, nor can -I claim that what I witnessed in the gloom, shot with occasional gleams -of moonlight here and there, was more than the intense visualisation -of an over-wrought imagination. It well may be that what I expected to -happen dramatised itself as though it actually did occur. I can merely -state that, at the moment, it seemed real and natural, and that what I -saw was the opening scene in a ceremony as familiar to me as the Litany -in my father’s church. - -For, with the pouring through the room of these twin energies of -wind and fire, I saw, sketched in the dim obscurity, one definite -movement--as the body of the boy rose up into a sitting posture close -before our faces. It instantly then sank back again, recumbent as -before upon the marble slab. The upright movement was repeated the same -second, and once more there came the sinking back. There were several -successive efforts before the upright position was maintained; and -each time it rose slowly, gradually, all of one piece and rigidly, -until finally these tentative movements achieved their object--and the -boy sat up as though about to stand. Erect before us, the head slightly -hanging on one side, the shoulders squared, the chest expanded as with -lung-drawn air, he rose steadily above his motionless companions all -around. - -And Julius drew back a pace. He made certain gestures with his arms -and hands that in some incalculable manner laid control upon the -movements. I saw his face an instant as the moon fell on it, pale, -glorious and stately, wearing a glow that was _not_ moonlight, the lips -compressed with effort, the eyes ablaze. He looked to me unearthly and -magnificent. His stature seemed increased. There was an air of power, -of majesty about him that made his presence beautiful beyond words; and -yet, most strange of all, it was familiar to me, even this. I had seen -it all before. I knew well what was about to happen. - -His gesture changed. No word was spoken. It was a Ceremony in which -gesture was more significant than speech. There was evidence of -intense internal struggle that yet did not include the ugliness of -strain. He put forth all his power merely--and the body rose by jerks. -Spasmodically, this time, as though pulled by wires, yet with a kind -of terrible violence, it floated from that marble slab into the air. -With a series of quick, curious movements, half plunge, half jerk, -it touched the floor. It stood stiffly upright on its feet. It rose -again, it turned, it twisted, moving arms and legs and head, passing me -unsupported through the atmosphere some four feet from the ground. The -wind rushed round it with a roar; the fire, though invisible, scorched -my eyes. This way and that, now up, now down, the body of this boy -danced to and fro before me, silent always, the blue eyes fixed, the -lips half parted, more with the semblance of some awful marionette than -with human movement, yet charged with a colossal potency that drove -it hither and thither. Like some fair Ariel, laughing at death, it -flitted above the yellow Calibans of horror that lay strewn below. - -Yet, from the very nature of these incompleted movements, I was -aware that the experiment was unsuccessful, and that the power was -insufficient. Instead of spasmodic, the movements should have been -rhythmical and easy; there should have been purpose and intention in -the performance of that driven body; there should have been commanding -gestures, significant direction; there should have been spontaneous -breathing and--a voice--the voice of Life. - -And instead--I witnessed an unmeaning pantomime, and heard the wailing -of the dying wind.... - -A voice, indeed, there was, but it was the voice of Julius LeVallon -that eventually came to me across the length of the room. I saw him -slowly approaching through the patches of unequal moonlight, carrying -over his shoulder the frail, white burden that had collapsed against -the further wall. And his words were very few, spoken more to himself -apparently than to me. I heard them; they struck chill and ominous upon -my heart: - -“The conditions were imperfect, the power insufficient. Alone we cannot -do it. We must wait for _her_.... And the channel must be another’s--as -before.” - -The strain of high excitement passed. I knew once again that small -and pitiful sensation of returning to my normal consciousness. The -exhilaration all was gone. There came a dwindling of the heart. I -was “myself” again, John Mason, student at Edinburgh University. It -produced a kind of shock, the abruptness of the alteration took my -strength away. I experienced a climax of sensation, disappointment, -distress, fear and revolt as well, that proved too much for me. I ran. -I reeled. I heard the sound of my own falling. - -No recollection of what immediately followed remains with me ... -for when I opened my eyes much later, I found myself prone upon the -landing several floors below, with Julius bending solicitously over -me, helping me to rise. The moonlight fell in a flood through a -window on the stairs. My recovery was speedy, though not complete. I -accompanied him down the remaining flight, leaning upon his arm; and in -the street my senses, though still dazed, took in that the night was -calm and cloudless, that the moonlight veiled the stars by its serene -brightness, and that the clock above the University buildings pointed -to the hour of two in the morning. - -The cold was bitter. There was no wind! - -Julius came with me to my door in Frederick Street, but the entire -distance of a mile neither of us spoke a word. - -At the door of my lodging-house, however, he turned. I drew back -instinctively, hesitating, for my desire was to get upstairs into my -own room with the door locked safely behind me. But he caught my hand. - -“We failed to-night,” he whispered, “but when the real time comes we -shall succeed. _You_ will not--fail me then?” - -In the stillness of very early morning, the moon sinking towards the -long dip of the Queensferry Road, and the shadows lying deep upon the -deserted streets, I heard his voice once more come travelling down the -centuries to where I stood. The atmosphere of those other days and -other places came back with incredible appeal upon me. - -He drew me within the chilly hall-way, the sound of our feet echoing -up the spiral staircase of stone. Night lay silently over everything, -sunrise still many hours away. - -I turned and looked into his eager, passionate face, into his eyes -that still shone with the radiance of the two great powers, at the -mouth and lips which now betrayed the exhaustion that had followed -the huge effort. And something appealing and personal in his entire -expression made it impossible to refuse. I shook my head, I shrank -away, but a voice I scarcely recognised as my own gave the required -answer. My upper and my under selves conflicted; yet the latter gave -the inevitable pledge: “Julius ... I promise you.” - -He gazed into my eyes. An inexpressible tenderness stole into his -manner. He took my hand and held it. The die was cast. - -“She is now upon the earth with us,” he said. “I soon shall find her. -We three shall inevitably be drawn together, for we are linked by -indestructible ties. There is this debt we must repay--we three who -first together incurred it.” - -There was a pause. Far away I heard a cart rumbling over the cobbles -of George Street. In another world it seemed, for the gods were still -about us where we stood. Julius moved from me. Once more I saw his eyes -fixed pleadingly, almost yearningly upon my own. Then the street door -closed upon him and he was gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - “_Love and pity are pleading with me this hour. - What is this voice that stays me forbidding to yield, - Offering beauty, love, and immortal power, - Aeons away in some far-off heavenly field?_”--A. E. - - -The actual beginnings of a separation are often so slight that they -are scarcely noticed. Between two friends, whose acquaintance is of -several years’ standing, sure that their tie will stand the ordinary -tests of life, some unexpected and trivial incident first points to the -parting of the ways; each discovers suddenly that, after all, the other -is not necessary to him. An emotion unshared is sufficient to reveal -some fundamental lack of sympathy hitherto concealed, and they go their -different ways, neither claim debited with the least regret. Like the -scarce perceptible mist of evening that divides dusk from night, the -invisible chill has risen between them; each sees the other through a -cloud that first veils, then distorts, and finally obliterates. - -For some weeks after the “experiment” I saw LeVallon through some -such risen mist, now thin, now thick, but always there and invariably -repelling. I remember distinctly, however, that our going apart was to -me not without a sense of regret both keen and poignant. I owed him -something impossible to describe; a yearning sense of beauty touched -common things about me at the sight of him, even at the mention of his -name in the University class-rooms; he had given me an awareness of -other possibilities, an exhilarating view of life that held immense -perspectives; a feeling that justice determined even the harshest -details; above all, a sense of kinship with Nature that combined to -form a tie of a most uncommon order. - -Yet I went willingly from his side; for his prospectus of existence led -me towards heights where I could not comfortably breathe. His entire -scheme I never properly grasped, perhaps; the little parts we shared -I saw, possibly, in wrong proportion, uncorrelated to the huge map -his mind contained so easily. My own personality was insignificant, -my powers mediocre; above all I had not always his strange conviction -of positive memory to support me. I lagged behind. I left him. The -seductive world that touched him not made decided claims upon my -heart--love, passion, ambition and adventure called me strongly. I -would not give up all and follow where he led. Yet I left him with -the haunting consciousness that I surrendered a system of belief that -was logical, complete and adequate, its scale of possible achievement -wonderful, and its unselfish ideal, if immensely difficult, at least -noble and inspiring. For all his mysticism, Julius, it seems to me, was -practical and scientific. - -Yet, the plausibility of his audacious theories would sometimes return -questioningly upon me. Man was an integral part of Nature, not alien to -it. What was there, after all, so impossible in what he claimed? And -what amongst it might not the science of to-morrow, with its X rays, N -rays, its wireless messages, its radium, its inter-molecular energy, -and its slowly-formulating laws of telepathy and the dynamic character -of Thought, not come eventually to confirm under new-fangled names? - -So far as I reflected concerning these things at all, I kept an open -mind; my point was simply that I preferred the ordinary pursuits of -ordinary men. He was evidently aware of the change in me, while yet he -made no effort to prevent my going. Nor did he make, so far as I can -recall, any direct reference to the matter. Once only, in a lecture -room, with a hand upon my shoulder while we jostled out together in the -stream of other students, he bent his face towards me and said with the -tender, comprehending smile that never failed to touch me deeply: “Our -lives are far too deeply knit for any final separation. Out of the Past -we come, and that Past is not exhausted yet.” The crowd had carried us -apart before I could reply, but through me like a flash of lightning -rose the certainty that this was literally true, and that while my -upper, modern Self went off, my older, hidden Self was with him to the -end. We merely took two curves that presently must join again. - -But, though we saw little of one another all these weeks, I can never -forget the scene of our actual leave-taking, nor the extraordinary -incidents that led up to it. Now that I set it down on paper such -phrases as “imaginative glamour” and the like may tempt me, but at the -time it was as real and actual as the weekly battles with my landlady, -or the sheaves of laborious notes I made at lecture-time. In some -region of my consciousness, abnormal or otherwise, this scene most -certainly took place. - -It was one late evening towards the close of the session--March or -April, therefore--that I had occasion to visit LeVallon’s house for -some reason in itself of no importance; one of those keen and blustery -nights that turn Edinburgh into a scene of unspeakable desolation, -Princes Street, a vista of sheeted rain where shop-windows glistened -upon black pavements; the Castle smothered in mist; Scott’s Monument -semi-invisible with a monstrous air about it in the gloom; and the -entire deserted town swept by a wind that howled across the Forth with -gusts of quite thunderous energy. Even the cable-cars blundered along -like weary creatures blindly seeking shelter. - -I hurried through the confusion of the tempest, fighting my way at -every step, and on turning the corner past the North British Railway -Station, the storm carried me with a rush into the porch of the -house, whipping the soaked macintosh with a blow across my face. The -rain struck the dripping walls down their entire height, then poured -splashing along the pavement in a stream. Night seemed to toss me into -the building like some piece of wreckage from the crest of a great wave. - -Panting and momentarily flustered, I paused in the little hall to -recover breath, while the hurricane, having flung me into shelter, -went roaring and howling down the sloping street. I wiped the rain -from my face and put straight my disordered clothes. My mind just then -was occupied with nothing but these very practical considerations. The -impression that followed the next instant came entirely unbidden: - -For I became aware of a sudden and enveloping sense of peace, beyond -all telling calm and beautiful--an interior peace--a calm upon the -spirit itself. It was a spiritual emotion. There drifted over me -and round me, like the stillness of some perfect dawn, the hush of -something serene and quiet as the stars. All stress and turmoil of -the outer world passed into an exquisite tranquillity that in some -nameless way was solemn as the spaces of the sky. I felt almost as if -some temple atmosphere, some inner Sanctuary of olden time, where the -tumult of external life dared not intrude, had descended on me. And the -change arrested every active impulse in my being; my hurrying thoughts -lay down and slept; all that was scattered in me gathered itself softly -into an inner fold; unsatisfied desires closed their eyes. It seemed -as if all the questing energies of my busy personality found suddenly -repose. Life’s restlessness was gone. I even forgot momentarily the -purpose for which I came. - -So abrupt a change of key was difficult to realise; I can only say that -the note of spiritual peace seemed far more true and actual than the -physical relief due to the escape from wind and rain. Moreover, as I -climbed the spiral staircase to the second floor where Julius lived, it -deepened perceptibly--as though it emanated from his dwelling quarters, -pervading the entire building. It brought back the atmosphere of what -at school we called our “Temple Days.” - -I went on tiptoe, fearful of disturbing what seemed solemn even to -the point of being sacred, for the mood was so strong that I felt no -desire to resist or criticise. Whatever its cause, this subjective -state of mind was soothing to the point of actual happiness. A hint of -bliss was in it. And it did not lessen either, when I discovered the -landlady, Mrs. Garnier, white of face in the little hall-way, showing -signs of nervousness that she made no attempt whatever to conceal. - -She was all eagerness to speak. Before I could ask if Julius was at -home, she relieved her burdened mind: - -“Oh, it’ll be you, Mr. Mason! And I’m that glad ye’ve come!” - -Her round, puffy visage plainly expressed relief, as she came towards -me with a shambling gait, looking over her shoulder across the dim-lit -hall. “Mr. LeVallion,” she whispered, “has been in there without a -sound since mornin’, and I’m thinkin’, maybe, something would ha’ -happened to him.” And she stared into my face as though I could -instantly explain what troubled her. Where I felt spiritual peace, she -felt, obviously, spiritual alarm. - -“He is engaged?” I inquired. Then--though hardly aware why I put the -question--I added: “There is someone with him?” - -She peered about her. - -“He’ll be no engaged to you, sir,” she replied. Plainly, it was not her -lodger’s instructions that prompted the words; by the way she hung back -I discerned that she dreaded to announce me; she hoped I would go in -and explore alone. - -“I’ll wait in the sitting-room till he comes out,” I said, after a -moment’s hesitation. And I moved towards the door. - -Mrs. Garnier, however, at once made an involuntary gesture to -prevent me. I can still hear her slippered tread shuffling across -the oil-cloth. The gesture became a sort of leap when she saw that I -persisted. It reminded me of a frightened animal. - -“There’ll be twa gentlemen already waiting,” she mumbled thickly, her -face turning a shade paler. - -And, hearing this, I paused. The old woman, I saw, was trembling. I was -annoyed at the interruption, for it destroyed the sense of delightful -peace I had enjoyed. - -“Anyone I know?” - -I was close to the door as I asked it, the terrified old woman close -beside me. She thrust her grey face up to mine; her eyes shone in the -gleam of the low-turned gas jet above our heads; and her excitement -communicated itself suddenly to my own blood. A distinct shiver ran -down my back. - -“I dinna ken them,” she whispered behind a hand she held to her mouth, -“for, ye see, I dinna let them in.” - -I stared at her, wondering what was coming next. The slight trepidation -I had felt for a moment vanished, but I kept my voice at a whisper for -fear of disturbing Julius in his inner chamber on the other side of the -wall. - -“What do you mean? Tell me plainly what’s the matter.” I said it with -some sharpness. - -She replied at once, only too glad to share her anxiety with another. - -“They came in by themselves,” she whispered with a touch of -superstitious awe; “wonderfu’ big men, the twa of them, and -dark-skinned as the de’il,” and she drew back a pace to watch the -effect of her words upon me. - -“How long ago?” I asked impatiently. I remembered suddenly that Julius -had friends among the Hindu students. It was more than possible that he -had given them his key. - -Mrs. Garnier shook her head suggestively. “I went in an hour ago,” she -told me in a low tone, “thinkin’ maybe he would be eatin’ something, -and, O Lord mercy, I ran straight against the pair of them, settin’ -there in the darkness wi’oot a word.” - -“Well?” I said, seeing that she was likely to invent, “and what of it?” - -“Neither of them moved a finger at me,” she continued breathlessly, -“but they looked all over me, and they had eyes like a flame o’ fire, -and I all but let the lamp fall and came out in a faintin’ condeetion, -and have been prayin’ ever since that someone would come in.” - -She shuffled into the middle of the hall-way, drawing me after her by -my sleeve. She pointed towards a corner of the ceiling. A small square -window was let into the wall of the little interior room where Julius -sought his solitude, and where at this moment he was busy with his -mysterious occupations. - -“And what’ll be that awfu’ licht, then?” she inquired, plucking me by -the arm. - -A gleam of bright white light, indeed, was visible through the -small dusty pane above us, and again a curious memory ran like -sheet-lightning across my mind that I had seen this kind of light -before and that it was familiar to me. It vanished instantly before I -could seize the fleeting picture. The light certainly was of peculiar -brightness, coming from neither gas nor candle, nor from any ordinary -light that I could have named off-hand. - -“It’ll be precisely that kind of licht that’s in their eyes,” I heard -her whisper, as she jerked her whole body rather than her head alone -towards the sitting-room I was about to enter. She wiped her clammy -hands upon the striped apron that hung crooked from her angular hips. - -“Mrs. Garnier,” I said with authority, “there’s nothing to be afraid -of. Mr. LeVallon makes experiments sometimes, that’s all. He wouldn’t -hurt a hair of your head----” - -“Nae doot,” she interrupted me, backing away from the door, “for his -bonny face is a face to get well on, but the twa others in there, the -darkies--aye, and that’ll be another matter, and not one for me to be -meddlin’ with----” - -I cut her short. “If you feel frightened,” I said, smiling, “go to your -room and pray. You needn’t announce me. I’ll go in and wait until he’s -ready to come out and see me.” - -Her face went white as linen, showing up an old scar on the cheek in -an ugly reddish pattern, while I pushed past her and turned the handle -of the door. I heard the breath catch in her throat. The next minute, -lamp in hand, I was in the room, slamming the door literally in her -face lest she might follow and do some foolish thing. I set the lamp -down upon the table in the centre. I looked quickly about me. No living -person but myself was there--certainly no Hindu gentlemen with eyes -of flame. Mrs. Garnier’s Celtic imagination had run away with her -altogether. I sat down and waited. A line of that same bright, silvery -light shone also beneath the crack of the door from the inner chamber. -The wind and rain trumpeted angrily at the windows. But the room was -undeniably empty. - -Yet it is utterly beyond me to describe the sense of exaltation that at -once rose over me like some influence of perfect music; “exaltation” -_is_ the right word, I think, and “music” conveys best the uplifting -and soothing effect that was produced. For here, at closer quarters, -the sensation of exquisite peace was doubly renewed. The nervous -alarm inspired by the woman fled. This peace flooded me; it stirred -the bliss of some happy spiritual life long since enjoyed and long -since forgotten. I passed instantly, as it were, under the sway of -some august authority that banished the fret and restlessness of the -extraneous world; and compared to which the strife and ambition of my -modern life seemed, indeed, well lost. - -Behind it, however, and behind the solemnity that awed, was at the same -time the faint presage of something vaguely disquieting. The memory -of some afflicting incompleteness gripped me; the anguish of ideals -too lofty for attainment; the sweet pain and passion of some exquisite -long suffering; the secret yearning of a soul that had dared sublime -accomplishment, then plunged itself and others in the despair of -failure--all this lay in the apprehension that stood close behind the -bliss. - -But, above all else, was the certainty that I remembered definite -details of those Temple Days, and that I was upon the verge of still -further and more detailed recollection.... That faintness stealing -over me was the faintness of immeasurable distance, the ache of dizzy -time, the weariness that has no end and no beginning. I felt what -Julius LeVallon felt--the deep sickness of eternity that knows no -final rest, either of blessed annihilation or of non-existence, until -the journey of the soul comes to its climax in the Deity. And, feeling -this--realising it--for the first time, I understood, also for the -first time, LeVallon’s words at Motfield Close two years ago--“If the -soul remembered all, it would lose the courage to attempt. Only the -vital things are worth recalling, because they guide.” - -This flashed across me now, as I sat in that Edinburgh lodging-house, -waiting for him to come. I knew myself, beyond all doubt or question, -caught away in that web of wonderful, far-off things; there revived -in me the yearnings of memories exceedingly remote; poignant still -with life, because they were unexhausted still, and terrible with -that incompleteness which sooner or later _must_ find satisfaction. -And it was this sense of things left undone that brought the feeling -of presentiment. Julius, in that inner chamber, was communing as of -old. But also--he was searching. He was hard upon the trail of ancient -clues. He was seeking _her_. I knew it in my bones. - -For I felt some subtle communication with that other mind beyond the -obstructing door--not, however, as it was to-day, but as it was in the -recoverable centuries when the three of us had committed the audacious -act which still awaited its final readjustment at our hands. Julius, -searching by some method of his own among the layers of our ancient -lives, reconstructed the particular scenes he needed. Involuntarily, -unwittingly, I shared them too. I had stepped into his ancient mood.... - -My mind grew crowded. The pictures rose and passed, and rose again.... - -But it was always one in particular that returned, staying longer than -the others. He concentrated upon one, then. In his efforts to find -_her_ soul in its body of to-day, he went back to the source of our -original relationship, the immensely remote experience when he and I -and she had sown the harvest we had now come back to reap together. -Thence, holding the clue, he could trace the thread of her existences -down to this very moment. He could find her where she stood upon the -earth--to-day. - -This seemed very clear to me, though how I realised it is difficult to -say. I remember a curious thought--which proves how real the conviction -was in me. I asked myself: “Does _she_ feel anything now, as she goes -about her business on this earth, perhaps in England, perhaps not far -removed from us, as distance goes? And is she, too, wherever she stands -and waits, aware perhaps of some queer presentiment that haunts her -waking or her sleeping mind--the presentiment of something coming, -something about to happen--that someone waits for her?” - -The one persistent picture rose and captured me again.... - -In blazing sunlight stood the building of whitened stone against -the turquoise sky; and, a little to the left, the yellow cliffs, -precipitous and crumbling. At their base were mounds of sand the wind -and sun had chiselled and piled up against their feet. The soft air -trembled with the heat; fierce light bathed everything--from the small -white figures moving up and down the rock-hewn steps, to the Temple -hollowed out between the stone paws of an immense outline half animal, -half human. To the right, and towards the east, stretched the abundant -desert, shimmering grey and blue and green beneath the torrid sun. I -smelt the empty leagues of sand, the delicate perfume that gathers -among the smooth, baked hollows of a million dunes; I felt the breeze, -sharp and exhilarating, that knew no interruption of broken surfaces to -break its journey of days and nights; and behind me I heard the faint, -sharp rustle of trees whose shadows flickered on the burning ground. -This heat and air grew stealthily upon me; fire and wind were here the -dominating influences, the natural methods which furnished vehicles for -the manifestation of particular Powers. Here was the home of our early -worship of the Sun and space, of Fire and Wind. Yet, somehow, it seemed -not of this present planet we call Earth, but of some point nearer to -the centre. - -Beside those enormous paws, where the air danced and shimmered in -the brilliant glare, I saw the narrow flight of steps leading to -the crypts below--the retreats for solitude. And then, suddenly, -with a shock of poignant recognition, I saw a figure that I knew -instantly to be myself, the Sower of my harvest of To-day. It slowly -moved down the steps behind another figure that I recognised with -equal conviction--some inner flash of lightning certainty--as Julius -LeVallon, the soul I knew to-day in Edinburgh, the soul that, in -another body, now stood near me in a nineteenth century lodging-house. -The bodies, too, were lighter, less dense and material than those we -used to-day, the spirit occupier less hampered and restricted. That too -was clear to me. - -I was aware of both times, both places simultaneously. That is, I was -not dreaming. The peace, moreover, that stole round me in this modern -building was but a faint reflection of the peace once familiar to me -in those far-off Temple Days. And somehow it was the older memory that -dominated consciousness. - -About me the room held still as death, the battle of that earthly -storm against the walls and windows half unreal, or so remote as to -be not realised. Time paused a moment. I looked back. I lived as I -had been then--in another type of consciousness, it seemed. It was -marvellous, yet natural as in a dream. Only, as in a dream, subsequent -language fails to retain the searching, vivid reality. The living -_fact_ is not recaptured. I felt. I understood. Certain tendencies -and characteristics that were “me” to-day I saw explained--those that -derived from this particular period. What must be conquered, and why, -flashed sharply; also individuals whom to avoid would be vain shirking, -since having sown together we must reap together--or miss the object of -our being. - -I heard strange names--Concerighé, Silvatela, Ziaz ... and a surge of -passionate memories caught at my heart. Yet it was not Egypt, it was -not India or the East, it was not Assyria or old Chaldea even; this -belonged to a civilisation older than them all, some dim ancient -kingdom that antedated all records open to possible research to-day.... - -I was in contact with the searching mind within that inner chamber. -His effort included me, making the deeps in me give up their dead. -I saw. He sought through many “sections.”... I followed.... There -was confusion--the pictures of recent days breaking in upon others -infinitely remote. I could not disentangle.... - -Very sharply, then, and with a sensation of uneasiness that was almost -pain, another figure rose. I saw a woman. With the same clear certainty -of recognition the face presented itself. Hair, lips, and eyes I saw -distinctly, yet somehow through a haze that veiled the expression. -About the graceful neck hung a soft cloth of gold; dark lashes screened -a gaze still starry and undimmed; there was a smile of shining teeth -... the eyes met mine.... - -With a diving rush the entire picture shifted, passing on to another -scene, and I saw two figures, her own and his, bending down over -something that lay stretched and motionless upon an altar of raised -stones. We were in shadow now; the air was cool; the perfume of the -open desert had altered to the fragrance that was incense.... The -picture faded, flashed quickly back, faded again, and once again was -there. I could not hold it for long. Larger, darker figures swam -between to confuse and blur its detail, figures of some swarthier -race, as though layers of other memories, perhaps more recent, mingled -bewilderingly with it. The two passed in and out of one another, -sometimes interpenetrating, as when two slides appear upon the -magic-lantern sheet together; yet, peering at me through the phantasmal -kaleidoscope, shone ever this woman-face, seductively lovely, haunting -as a vision of stars, mask of a soul even then already “old,” although -the picture was of ages before the wisdom of Buddha or the love of -Christ had stolen on the world.... - -Then came a moment of clearer sight suddenly, and I saw that the -objects lying stretched and motionless in the obscurity, and over -one of which they bent in concentrated effort, were the bodies of -men not dead, but temporarily vacated. And I knew that we stood in -the Hall of the Vacated Bodies, an atmosphere of awe and solemnity -about us. For these were the advanced disciples who in the final -initiation lay three days and nights entranced, while their souls -acquired “elsewhere and otherwise” the knowledge no brain could attain -to in the flesh. During the interval there were those who watched the -empty tenements--Guardians of the Vacated Bodies--and two of these I -now saw bending low--the woman and a man. The body itself I saw but -dimly, but an overmastering curiosity woke in me to see it clearly--to -recognise----! - -The intensity of my effort caused a blur, it seemed. Across my inner -sight the haze thickened for a moment, and I lost the scene. But this -time I understood. The dread of something they were about to consummate -blackened the memory with the pain of treachery. Guardians of the -Vacated Bodies, they had been faithless to their trust: they had used -their position for some personal end. Awe and terror clutched my soul. -Who was the leader, who the led, I failed utterly to recover, nor what -the motive of the broken trust had been. A sublime audacity lay in it, -that I knew. There was the desire for knowledge not yet properly within -their reach; there was the ambition to evoke the elemental powers; -and there was an “experiment,” using the instrument at hand as the -channel for an achievement that might have made them--one of them, at -any rate--as the gods. But there was about it all an entanglement of -personalities and motives I was helpless to unravel. The whole deep -significance I could not recover. My own part, the part he played, and -the part the woman played, seemed woven in an involved and inextricable -knot. It belonged, I felt, to an order of consciousness which is not -the order of to-day. I, therefore, failed to understand completely. -Only that we three were together, closely linked, emerged absolutely -clear. - -For one moment the scene returned again. I remember that something -drove forcibly against me in that ancient place, that it flung itself -roaring like a tempest in my face, that a great burning sensation -passed through me, while sheets of what I can only describe as black -fire tore through the air about us. There was fire and there was wind -... that much I realised. - -I rocked--that is my present body rocked. I reeled upon my chair. The -entire memory plunged down into darkness with a speed of lightning. I -seemed to rise--to emerge from the depths of some sea within me where I -had lain sunk for ages. In one sense--I awoke. But, before the glamour -passed entirely, and while the reality of the scene hung about me -still, I remember that a cry for help escaped my lips, and that it was -the name of our leader that I called upon: - -“Concerighé...!” - -With that cry still sounding in the air, I turned, and saw him whom I -had called upon beside me. With a kind of splendid, dazzling light he -came. He rested one hand upon my shoulder; he gazed down into my eyes; -and I looked into a face that was magnificent with power, radiant, -glorious. The atmosphere momentarily seemed turned to flame. I felt a -wind of strength strike through me. The old temptation and the sin--the -failure--all were clear at last. - -I remembered.... - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -The brilliance of the figure dimmed and melted, as though the shadows -ate it from the edges inwards; there came a rattling at the handle of -that inner chamber door; it opened suddenly; and Julius LeVallon, this -time in his body of To-day, stood framed against the square of light -that swirled behind him like clouds of dazzlingly white steam. The door -swung to and closed. He moved forward quickly into the room. - -By this time I was more in possession of my normal senses again. Here -was no question of memory, vision, or imagination’s glamour. Beyond -any doubt or ambiguity, there stood beside me in this sitting-room of -the Edinburgh lodging-house two figures of Julius LeVallon. I saw them -simultaneously. There was the normal Julius walking across the carpet -towards me, and there was his double that stood near me in a body of -light--now fading, yet unquestionably wearing the likeness of that -Concerighé whom I had seen bending with the woman above the vacated -body. - -They moved together swiftly. Almost the same moment they met; they -intermingled, much as two outlines of an object slip one into the other -when the finger’s pressure on the eyeball is removed. They became one -person. Julius was there before me in the lamp-lit room, just come -from his inner chamber that blazed with brilliance. This light now -disappeared. No line showed beneath the crack of the door. I heard the -wind and rain shout drearily past the windows with the dying storm. - -I caught my breath. I stood up to face him, taking a quick step -backwards. And I heard Julius laugh a little. He told me afterwards I -had assumed an attitude of defence. - -He was speaking--in his ordinary voice, no sign of excitement in him, -nor about his presence anything unusual. - -“You called me,” he said quietly; “you called for help. But I could not -come at once; I could not get back; it was such a long way off.” He -looked at me and smiled. “I was searching,” he added, as though he had -been merely turning the pages of a book. - -“Our old Memory Game. I know. I felt it--even out here.” - -He nodded gravely. - -“You could hardly help it,” he replied, “being so close,” and indicated -that inner room with a gesture of his head. “Besides, you were in it -all the time. And she was in it too. Oh,” he said with a touch of swift -enthusiasm, “I have recovered nearly all. I know exactly now what -happened. I was the leader, I the instigator; you both merely helped -me; you with your faithful friendship, even while you warned; she with -her passionate love that asked no questions, but obeyed.” - -“She loved you so?” I asked faintly, but with an uncontrollable -trembling of the voice. An amazing prescience seized me. - -“You,” he said calmly. “It was you she loved.” - -What thrill of romance, deathless and enthralling, stirred in me as -I heard these words! What starry glory stepped down upon the world! -A memory of bliss poured into me; the knowledge of an undying love -constant as the sun itself. Then, hard upon its heels, flashed back -the Present with a small and insignificant picture--of my approaching -union--with another. An extraordinary revulsion caught me. I remember -steadying myself against the chair in front of me. - -“For it was your love,” Julius went on quietly, “that made you so -necessary. You two were a single force together. I had the knowledge, -but you together had the greatest power in the world. We were three--a -trinity--the strongest union possible. And the temptation was too much -for me----” - -He turned away a moment so that I could not see his face. He broke off -suddenly. There was a new and curious quality in his voice, as though -it dwindled in volume and grew smaller, yet was not audibly lowered. - -What caused the old sense of dread to quicken in me? What brought this -sudden sinking of the heart as he turned again from the cabinet where -he stood, and our eyes met steadily through the lamp-lit room? - -“I borrowed love, but knew not how to use it,” he went on slowly, -solemnly. “I had evoked the Powers successfully; through the channel -of that vacated body I had drawn them into my own being. Then came the -failure----” - -“I--we failed you!” I faltered. - -“The failure,” he replied, still fixing me with his glowing eyes, “was -mine, and mine alone. The power lent me I did not understand. It was -not my own, and without great love these things cannot be accomplished. -I must first know love. What I had summoned I was too weak to banish. -The owner of the vacated body returned.” Then, after a pause, he added -half below his breath: “The Powers, exiled from their appointed place, -are about me to this very day. But it is the owner of that body whose -forgiveness I need most. And only with your help--with the presence, -the sympathetic presence of yourself and her--can this be effected.” - -Past, present, and future seemed strangely intermingled as I heard, for -my thoughts went groping forward, and at the same time diving backwards -among desert sands and temples. The passion of an immense love-story -caught me; I was aware of intense yearning to resume my place in it -all with him, with her, with all the reconstructed conditions of -relationships so ancient and so true. It swept over me like a storm -unchained. That scene in the cool and sunless crypt flamed forth again, -reality in each smallest detail. The meaning of his words I did not -wholly grasp, however; there was something lacking in my mind of -To-day that withheld the final clue. My present consciousness was not -as then. From brain and reason all this seemed so utterly divorced, and -I had forgotten how to understand by _feeling_ in the way that Julius -did. Those last words, however, brought a sudden question to my lips. -Almost unconsciously I gave it utterance: - -“Through the channel of a body?” I asked, and my voice was lower than -his own. - -“Through the channel of a human system,” was his answer, “an organism -that uses consciously both heat and air, and that, therefore, knows the -nature of them both. For the Powers can be summoned only by those who -understand them; and understanding, being worship, depends ultimately -upon _sharing_ their natures, though it be in little.” - -There came a welcome break, then, in the strain of this extraordinary -conversation, as Julius, using no bridge to transpose our emotions -from one key to the other, walked quietly over to the cupboard. It was -characteristically significant of his attitude to life in general, -that the solemn things we had been speaking of were yet no more sacred -than the prosaic detail of to-day that now concerned him--a student’s -supper. All was “one” to him in this rare but absolutely genuine way. -He was unconscious of any break in the emotional level of what had -been--for him there was, indeed, no break--and, watching him, it almost -seemed that I still saw that other figure of long ago striding across -the granite, sun-drenched slabs. - -The voice rose unbidden within me, choked by the stress of some -inexplicable emotion: - -“Concerighé...!” I cried aloud involuntarily; “Concerighé ... Ziaz.... -We are all together still ... my help is yours ... my unfailing -help....” - -Julius, loaf and marmalade jar in hand, turned from the cupboard as -though he had been struck. For a moment he stood and stared. The -customary expression melted from his face, and in its place a look of -tenderest compassion shone through the strength. - -“You do remember, then!” he said very softly; “even the names!” - -“And Silvatela,” I murmured, moisture rising unaccountably to my eyes. -I saw the room in mist. - -Julius stood before me like a figure carved in stone. For a long -time he spoke no word. Gradually the curious disturbance in my own -breast sank and passed. The mist lifted and disappeared. I felt myself -slipping back into To-day on the ebb of some shattering experience, -already half forgotten. - -“You remember,” he repeated presently, his voice impassioned but firmly -quiet, “the temptation--and--the failure...?” - -I nodded, almost involuntarily again. - -“And still hold to you--both,” I murmured. - -He held me with his eyes for quite a minute. Though he used no word or -gesture, I felt his deep delight. - -“Because we must,” he answered presently; “because we must.” - -He had moved so close to me that I felt his breath upon my face. I -could have sworn for a second that I gazed into the shining eyes of -that other and audacious figure, for it was the voice of Concerighé, -yet the face of Julius. Past and present seemed to join hands, mingling -confusedly in my mind. Cause and effect whispered across the centuries, -linking us together. And the voice continued deeply, as if echoing down -hollow aisles of stone. - -I heard the words in the shadowy spaces of that old-world crypt, rather -than among the plush furniture of these Edinburgh lodgings. - -“We three are at last together again, and must bring the Balance to a -final close. As the stars are but dust upon the pathway of the gods, so -our mistakes are but dust upon the pathway of our lives. What we let -fall together, we must together remove.” - -Then, with an abruptness that pertained sometimes to these curious -irruptions from the past, the values shifted. He became more and more -the Julius LeVallon whom I knew to-day. Speech changed to a modern -and more usual key. And the effect upon myself was of vague relief, -for while the impression of great drama did not wholly pass, the -uneasiness lightened in me, and I found my tongue again. I told my -own experience--all that I had seen and felt and thought. Brewing the -cocoa, and setting out the bread and marmalade upon the table, Julius -listened to every word without interruption. Our intimacy was complete -again as though no separation, either of lives or days, had been -between us. - -“Inside me, of course,” I concluded the recital; “in some kind of -interior sight I saw it all----” - -“The only true sight,” he declared, “though what you saw was but the -reflection at second-hand of memories I evoked in there.” He pointed to -the inner room. “In there,” he went on significantly, “where nothing -connected with the Present enters, no thought, no presence, nothing -that can disturb or interrupt,--in there you would see and remember -as vividly as I myself. The room is prepared.... The channels all are -open. As it was, my pictures flashed into you and set the great chain -moving. For no life is isolated; all is shared; and every detail, -animate or so-called inanimate, belongs inevitably to every other.” - -“Yet what I saw was so much clearer than our schoolday memories,” I -said. “Those pictures, for instance, of the pastoral people where we -came together first.” - -An expression of yearning passed into his eyes as he answered. - -“Because in our Temple Days you led the life of the soul instead of the -body merely. The soul alone remembers. There lies the permanent record. -Only what has touched the soul, therefore, is recoverable--the great -joys, great sorrows, great adventures that have reached it. You _feel_ -them. The rest are but fugitive pictures of scenery that accompanied -the spiritual disturbances. Each body you occupy has a different brain -that stores its own particular series. But true memory is in, and of, -the Soul. Few have any true soul-life at all; few, therefore, have -anything to remember!” - -His low voice ran on and on, charged with deep earnestness; his very -atmosphere seemed to vibrate with the conviction of his words; about -his face occasionally were flashes of that radiance in which his body -of light--his inmost being--dwelt for ever. I remember moving the -marmalade pot from its precarious position on the table edge, lest his -gestures should send it flying! But I remember also that the haunting -reality of “other days and other places” lay about us while we talked, -so that the howling of the storm outside seemed far away and quite -unable to affect us. We knew perfect communion in that dingy room. We -_felt_ together. - -“But it is difficult, often painful, to draw the memories up again,” -he went on, still speaking of recovery, “for they lie so deeply coiled -about the very roots of joy and grief. Things of the moment smother the -older pictures. The way of recovery is arduous, and not many would deem -the sacrifice involved worth while. It means plunging into yourself as -you must plunge below the earth if you would see the starlight while -the sun is in the sky. To-day’s sunlight hides the stars of yesterday. -Yet all is accessible--the entire series of the soul’s experiences, and -real forgetting is not possible.” - -A movement as of wind seemed to pass between us over the faded carpet, -bearing me upwards while he spoke, sweeping me with his own conviction -of our eternal ancestry and of our unending future. - -“We have made ourselves exactly what we are. We are making our future -at this very minute--_now!_” I exclaimed. The justice of the dream -inspired me. Great courage, a greater hope awoke. - -He smiled, opening his arms with a gesture that took in the world. - -“Your aspirations, hopes and fears, all that has ever burned -vitally at your centre, every spiritual passion that uplifted or -enticed, each deep endeavour that seeded your present tendencies -and talents--everything, in fact, strong enough to have touched -your Soul--sends up its whirling picture of beauty or dismay at the -appointed time. The disentangling may be difficult, but all are -there, for you yourself are their actual, living Record. Feeling, -not thinking, best unravels them--the primitive vision as of -children--the awareness of kinship with everything about you. The -sense of separateness and isolation vanishes, and the soul recovers -the consciousness of sharing all the universe. There is no loneliness; -there is no more fear.” - - * * * * * - -Ah, how we talked that night of tempest through! What thoughts and -dreams and possibilities Julius sent thundering against my mind as -with the power of the loosed wind and rain outside. The scale of life -became immense, each tiniest detail of act and thought important with -the sacredness of some cosmic ceremonial that it symbolised. Yet to his -words alone this power was not due, but rather to some force of driving -certitude in himself that brought into me too a similar conviction. The -memory of it hardened in the sands of my imagination, as it were, so -that the result has remained, although the language by which he made it -seem so reasonable has gone. - -I smoked my pipe; and, as the smoke curled upwards, I watched his face -of pallid marble and the mop of ebony hair that set off so well the -brilliance of the eyes. He looked, I thought to myself, like no human -being I had ever seen before. - -“And sometimes,” I remember hearing, “the memories from a later section -may suddenly swarm across an earlier one--confusing the sight, perhaps, -just when it is getting clear. A few hours ago, for instance, my -search was interrupted by an inrush of two more recent layers--Eastern -ones--which came to obliterate with their vividness the older, dimmer -ones I sought.” - -I mentioned what the frightened woman imagined she had seen. - -“She caught a reflected fragment too,” he said. “So strong a picture -was bound to spread.” - -“Then was Mrs. Garnier with us too before?” I asked, as we burst out -laughing. - -“Not in that sense, no. It was the glamour that touched her -only--second-sight, as she might call it. She is sensitive to -impressions, nothing more.” - -He came over and sat closer to me. The web of his language folded -closer too. The momentum of his sincerity threw itself against all my -prejudices, so that I, too, saw the serpentine vista of these previous -lives stretching like a river across the ages. To this day I see his -tall, slim figure, his face with the clear pale skin, the burning eyes; -now he leaned across the table, now stood up to emphasise some phrase, -now paced the floor of that lamp-lit students’ lodging-house, while he -spoke of the long battling of our souls together, sowing thoughts and -actions whose consequences must one day be reaped without evasion. The -scale of his Dream was vast indeed, its prospect austere and merciless, -yet the fundamental idea of justice made it beautiful, as its inclusion -of all Nature made it grand. - -To Julius LeVallon the soul was indeed unconquerable, and man master -of his fate. Death lost its ugliness and terror; the sense of broken, -separated life was replaced by the security of a continuous existence, -whole, unhurried, eternal, affording ample time for all development, -accepting joy and suffering as the justice of results, but never as of -reward or punishment. There was no caprice; there was no such thing as -chance. - -Then, as the night wore slowly on, and the wind died down, and the -wonderful old town lay sleeping peacefully, we talked at last of that -one thing towards which all our conversation tended subconsciously: our -future together and the experiment that it held in store for us--with -her. - -I cannot hope to set down here the words by which this singular -being led me, half accepting, to the edge of understanding that his -conception might be right. To that edge, however, I somehow felt my -mind was coaxed. I looked over that edge. I saw for a moment something -of his magnificent panorama. I realised a hint of possibility in -his shining scheme. But it is beyond me to report the persuasive -reasonableness of all I heard, for the truth is that Julius spoke -another language--a language incomprehensible to my mind to-day. His -words, indeed, were those of modern schools and books, but the spirit -that ensouled them belonged to a forgotten time. Only by means of some -strange inner sympathy did I comprehend him. Another, an older type of -consciousness, perhaps, woke in me. As with the pictures, this also -seemed curiously familiar as I listened. Something in me old as the -stars and wiser than the brain both heard and understood. - -For the elemental forces he held to be Intelligences that share the -life of the cosmos in a degree enormously more significant than -anything human life can claim. Mother Earth, for him, was no mere -poetic phrase. There was spiritual life in Nature as there was -spiritual life in men and women. The insignificance of the latter was -due to their being cut off from the great sources of supply--to their -separation from Nature. Under certain conditions, and with certain -consequences, it was possible to obtain these powers which, properly -directed, might help the entire world. This experiment we had once -made--and failed. - -The method I already understood in a certain measure; but the rest -escaped my comprehension. Memory failed to reconstruct it for me; -vision darkened; his words conveyed no meaning. It was beyond me. -Somewhere, somehow, personal love had entered to destroy the effective -balance that ensured complete success. Yet, equally, the power of love -which is quintessential sympathy, _was_ necessary. - -What, however, I did easily understand was that the object of that -adventure was noble, nothing meanly personal in it anywhere; and, -further, that to restore the damaged equilibrium by returning these -particular powers to their rightful places, there must be an exact -reproduction of the conditions of evocation--that is, the three -original participants must be together again--a human system must serve -again as channel. - -And the essential fact of all that passed between us on this occasion -was that I gave again my promise. When the necessary conditions were -present--I would not fail him. This is the memory I have carried with -me through the twenty years of our subsequent separation. I gave my -pledge. - - * * * * * - -The storm blew itself to rest behind the hills; the rain no longer set -the windows rattling; the hush of early morning stole down upon the -sleeping city. We had talked the night away. He seemed aware--I know -not how--that we stood upon the brink of going apart for years. There -was great tenderness in his manner, his voice, his gestures. Turning -to me a moment as the grey light crept past the curtains, he peered -into my face as though he would revive lost centuries with the passion -of his eyes. He took my hand and held it, while a look of peace and -trust passed over his features as though the matter of the future were -already then accomplished. - -He led me silently across the room towards the door. I turned -instinctively; words rose up in me, but words that found no utterance. -A deep emotion held me dumb. Then, as I opened the door, I found the -old, familiar name again: - -“Concerighé ... Friend of a million years...!” - -But no sentence followed it. He touched my arm. A cold wind seemed to -pass between us. I firmly believe that somehow he foresaw the long -interval of separation that was coming. Something about him seemed to -fade; I saw him less distinctly; my sight, perhaps, was blurred with -the strain of these long hours--hours the like of which I was not to -know again for many years. That magical name has many a time echoed -since in my heart away from him, as it echoed then across the darkened -little hall-way of those Edinburgh lodgings: “Concerighé! Friend of a -million years!” - -Side by side we went down the granite steps of the spiral staircase to -the street. Julius opened the big front door. I heard the rattling of -the iron chain. A breeze from the sea blew salt against our faces, -then ran gustily along the streets. Behind the Calton Hill showed a -crimson streak of dawn. A line of clouds, half rosy and half gold, -ran down the sky. No living being was astir. I heard only the noisy -whirling of the iron chimney-pots against the morning wind. - -And then his voice: - -“Good-bye---- Until we meet again....” - -He pressed my hands. I looked into his eyes. He stepped back into the -shadow of the porch. The door closed softly. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - “_Forgive? O yes! How lightly, lightly said! - Forget? No, never, while the ages roll, - Till God slay o’er again the undying dead, - And quite unmake my soul!_”--Mary Coleridge. - - -I stepped down, it seemed, into a lilliputian world where the grander -issues no longer drew the souls of men. The deep and simple things were -fled, the old Nature gods withdrawn. The scale of life had oddly shrunk. - -I saw the names above the shuttered shops with artificial articles for -sale--“11¾d. a yard”--on printed paper labels. The cheapness of a -lesser day flashed everywhere. - -I passed the closed doors of a building where people flocked to mumble -that no good was in them, while a man proclaimed in a loud voice things -he hardly could believe. A few streets behind me Julius LeVallon stood -in the shadows of another porch, solitary and apart, yet communing with -stars and hills and seas, survival from a vital, vanished age when life -was realised everywhere and the elemental Nature Powers walked hand in -hand with men. - -Through the deserted streets I made my way across the town to my own -little student’s flat on the Morningside where I then lived. Gradually -the crimson dawn slipped into a stormy sunrise. I watched the Pentlands -take the gold, and the Castle rock turn ruddy; a gentle mist lay over -Leith below; a pool of deep blue shadow marked the slumbering Old Town. - -But about my heart at this magic hour stirred the dawn-winds of a -thousand ancient sunrises, and I felt the haunting atmosphere of -other days and other places steal up through the mists of immemorial -existences. I thought of the whole great series, each life rising and -setting like a little day, each with its dawn and noon and sunset, -each with its harvest of failure and success, of joy and sorrow, -of friendships formed and enemies forgiven, of ideals realised or -abandoned--pouring out of the womb of time and slowly bringing the -soul through the discipline of all possible experience towards that -perfection which proclaims it one with the entire universe--the Deity. - -And a profound weariness fell about my spirit as I went. I became -aware of my own meagre enthusiasm. I welcomed the conception of some -saviour who should do it all for me. I knew myself unequal to the -gigantic task. In that moment the heroic figure of Julius seemed remote -from reality, a towering outline in the sky, an austere embodiment -of legendary myth. The former passionate certainty that he was right -dwindled amid wavering doubts. The perplexities of life came back upon -me with tormenting power. I lost the coherent vision of consistent and -logical beauty that he inspired. It was all too vast for me. - -This reaction was natural enough, though for a long time mood chased -mood across my troubled mind, each battling for supremacy. The -materialism of the day, proudly strutting with its boundless assurance -and its cock-sure knowledge, regained possession of my thoughts. -The emptiness of scholastic theology no longer seemed so hideously -apparent. It was pain to let the other go, but go it did--though never, -perhaps, so completely as I then believed. - -By insignificant details the change revealed itself. I recalled that -I was due that very afternoon at a luncheon where “intellectual” folk -would explain away the soul with a single scientific formula, and -where learned heads would wag condescendingly as they murmured “But -there’s no evidence to prove _that_, you know ...” ... and Julius rose -before me in another light at once--Pagan, dreamer, monster of exploded -superstitions, those very hills where he evoked the sylvan deities, a -momentary hallucination.... - -Then again, quite suddenly, it was the chatterers at the luncheon party -who seemed unreal, and all their clever patter about the “movements” -of the day mere shallow verbiage. The hoardings of the town were blue -and yellow with gaudy election posters, but the sky was aflame with -the grand old message of the Sun God, written in eternal hieroglyphs -of gold and red upon the clouds that brushed the hills. The elemental -deities stormed thundering by. And, instead of scholars laying down the -letter of their little law, I heard the tones of Concerighé calling -across the centuries the names of great belief, of greater beauty. - -And the older pageantry stole back across the world. - -Almost it was in me to turn and seek ... with him ... that -soul-knowledge which ran through all the “sections.”... Yet the younger -fear oppressed me. The endless journey, the renunciation and suffering -involved, the incessant, tireless striving, with none to help but one’s -own unconquerable will--this, and a host of other feelings that lay -beyond expression, bore down upon me with their cold, glacier power. -I thought of Julius with something of reverence akin to terror.... I -despised myself. I also understood why the majority need priests and -creeds and formulæ to help them.... The will, divorced from Nature, was -so small a thing! - -When I entered my rooms the sunlight lay upon the carpet, and never -before had it seemed so welcome or so comforting. I could then and -there have worshipped the great body that sent it forth. But, instead, -in a state of exhaustion and weariness, I flung myself upon the bed. -Yet, while I slept, it seemed I left that little modern room and -entered the region of great, golden days “when the sun was younger.” -In very different attire, I took my place in the blue-robed circle, -a portion of some ancient, gorgeous ceremonial that was nearer to -the primitive beauty, when the “circles swallowed the sun,” and the -elemental Powers were accessible to every heart. - -It was not surprising that I slept till dusk, missing my lectures -and the luncheon party as well; but it was distinctly surprising to -find myself wakened by a knocking at the door for a telegram that -summoned me south forthwith. And only in the train, anxiously counting -the minutes in the hope that I might find my father still alive, did -the possible significance of LeVallon’s final words come back upon my -troubled mind: “Until we meet again.” - -For little did I guess that my father’s death was to prevent my -returning to the University, that my career would be changed and -hastened owing to an unexpected lack of means, that my occasional -letters to Julius were to be returned “unknown,” or that my next word -of him would be received twenty years later in a room overlooking the -Rhine at Bâle, where I have attempted to set down these difficult notes -of reminiscence.... - - - - -Book III - -THE CHÂLET IN THE JURA MOUNTAINS - - - - - “_He (man) first clothes the gods in the image of his own - innermost nature; he personifies them as modes of his own greater - consciousness. All this was native to him when he still felt - himself kin with Nature; when he felt rather than thought, when - he followed instinct rather than ratiocination. But for long - centuries this feeling of kinship with Nature has been gradually - weakened by the powerful play of that form of mind peculiar to - man; until he has at last reached a stage when he finds himself - largely divorced from Nature, to such an extent indeed that he - treats her as something foreign and apart from himself...._ - - “_He seems at present, at any rate in the persons of most of - the accredited thinkers of the West, to be absolutely convinced - that no other mode of mind can exist except his own mode.... - To say that Nature thinks, he regards as an entire misuse of - language.... That Nature has feelings even, he will not allow; to - speak of love and hate among the elements is for him a puerile - fancy the cultured mind has long outgrown._ - - “_The sole joy of such a mind would almost seem to be the delight - of expelling the life from all forms and dissecting their dead - bodies._”--“Some Mystical Adventures” (G. R. S. Mead). - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -For a long time that letter lay on my table like a challenge--neither -accepted nor refused. Something that had slumbered in me for twenty -years awoke. The enchantment of my youthful days, long since evaporated -as I believed, rose stealthily upon me at the sight of this once -familiar handwriting. LeVallon, of course, had found the woman. And my -word was pledged. - -To say that I hesitated, however, would be no more true than to say -that I debated or considered. The first effect upon me was a full-blown -amazement that I could ever have come under the spell of so singular a -kind or have promised co-operation in anything so wildly preposterous -as Julius had proposed. The second effect, however--and, as it turned -out, the deeper one--was different. I experienced a longing, a thrill -of anticipation, a sense even of joy--I know not what to call it; -while in its train came a hint, though the merest hint, of that vague -uneasiness I had known in my school and university days. - -Yet by some obscure mental process difficult to explain, I found -myself half caught already in consent. I answered the letter, asking -instructions how to reach him in his distant valley of the Jura -Mountains. Some love of adventure--so I flattered myself--long denied -by my circumscribed conditions of life, prompted the decision in part. -For in the heart of me I obviously wished to go; and, briefly, it was -the heart of me that finally went. - -I passed some days waiting for a reply, LeVallon’s abode being -apparently inaccessible to the ordinary service of the post--“poste -restante” in a village marked only upon the larger maps where, I -judged, he had to fetch his letters. And those days worked their due -effect upon me; they were filled with questions to which imagination -sought the answers. How would the intervening years have dealt with -him? What changes would have come upon him with maturity? And this -woman--what melancholy splendours brought from “old, forgotten, far-off -things” would she bring with her down into the prosaic conditions -of this materialistic century? What signs and evidences would there -be that she, like himself, was an adept at life, seeking eternal -things, discerning what was important, an “old soul” taught of the -gods and charged with the ideals of another day? I saw her already in -imagination--a woman of striking appearance and unusual qualities. And, -how had he found her? A hundred similar questions asked themselves, -but, chief among them, two: Would she--should I, _remember?_ - -The time passed slowly; my excitement grew; sometimes I hesitated, -half repented, almost laughed, but never once was tempted really to -change my mind. For in the deeper part of me, now so long ignored, -something of these ancient passions blew to flame again; symptoms of -that original dread increased; there rose once more the whisper “we -are eternally together; the thing is true!” And on the seventh day, -when the porter handed me the letter, it almost seemed that Julius -stood beside me, beckoning. I felt his presence; the old magic of -his personality tightened up a thousand loosened threads; belief was -unwillingly renewed. - -The instructions were very brief, no expression of personal feeling -accompanying them. Julius counted on my fidelity. It had never occurred -to him that I could fail. I left my heavy luggage in the care of the -hotel and packed the few things necessary for the journey. The notes of -our school and university days I have just jotted down I sent by post -to my London chambers. A spirit of recklessness seemed in me. I was off -into fairyland, mystery and wonder about me, possibly romance. Nothing -mattered; work could wait; I possessed a small competency of my own; -the routine of my life was dull and uninspiring. Also I was alone in -the world, for my early attachment had not resulted in marriage, and I -knew no other home than that of chambers, restaurants, and the mountain -inns where my holidays were usually spent. I welcomed the change with -its promise of adventure--and I went. This feeling of welcome owned -perhaps a deeper origin than I realised. - -Travelling via Bienne and Neuchâtel to a point beyond the latter -town, I took thence, according to instructions, a little mountain -railway that left the lake behind and plunged straight into the purple -valleys of the Jura range. Deep pine woods spread away on all sides -as we climbed a winding ravine among the folds of these soft blue -mountains that are far older than the Alps. Scarred cliffs and ridges -of limestone gleamed white against the velvet forests, now turning red -and yellow in the sunset, but no peaks were visible and no bare summits -pricked the sky. Thick and soft, the trees clothed all. Their feathery -presence filled the air. The clatter of the train seemed muffled, and -the gathering shadows below the eastern escarpments took on that rich -black hue that ancient forests lend to the very atmosphere above them. -We passed into a world where branches, moss and flowers muted every -sound with a sense of undisturbable peace. The softness of great age -reigned with delicious silence. The very engine puffed uphill on wheels -of plush. - -Occasional hamlets contributed a few wood-cutters by way of passengers; -strips of half-cleared valley revealed here and there a farm-house with -dark brown walls and spreading roof; little _sentiers_ slipped through -the pine trees to yet further recesses of unfrequented woods; but -nowhere did I see a modern building, a country house, nor any dwelling -that might be occupied by other than simple peasant folk. Suggestion of -tourists there was absolutely none; no trees striped blue and yellow by -Improvement Committees; no inns with central-heating and tin banners -stating that touring clubs endorsed them; no advertisements at all; -only this air of remote and kindly peace, the smoke of peat fires, and -the odour of living woods stealing upon the dusk. - -The feeling grew that I crossed a threshold into a region that lay -outside the common happenings of the world; life here must be very -gentle, wonderful, distinguished, and things might come to pass that -would be true yet hard to explain by the standards of the busy cities. -Those cities, indeed, seemed very far away, unreal, and certainly -unimportant. For the leisurely train itself was almost make-believe, -and the station officials mere uniformed automata. The normal world, in -a word, began to fade a little. I was aware once more of that bigger -region in which Julius LeVallon lived--the cosmic point of view. The -spell of our early days revived, worked on my nerves and thought, -altering my outlook sensibly even at this early stage of my return. - -The autumn afternoon was already on the wane when at length I -reached C----, an untidy little watch-making town, and according to -instructions left the train. I searched the empty platform in vain for -any sign of Julius. Instead of the tall, familiar figure, a little -dark-faced man stood abruptly before me, stared into my face with the -questioning eyes of a child or animal, and exclaimed bluntly enough -“_Monsieur le professeur?_” We were alone on the deserted platform, the -train already swallowed by the forest, no porter, of course, visible, -and signs of civilisation generally somewhat scanty. - -This man, sent by Julius, made a curious impression on me as I gave -him my bag and prepared to follow him to the cart I saw standing -outside the station. His mode of addressing me seemed incongruous. Of -peasant type, with black moustaches far too big for his features, and -bushy eyebrows reminding me of tree-lichen, there was something in his -simplicity of gesture and address that suggested a faithful animal. His -voice was not unlike a growl; he was delighted to have found me, but -did not accept me yet; he showed his pleasure in his honest smile and -in certain quick, jerky movements of the body that made me think how -a clever caricaturist could see the dog in him. Yet in his keen and -steady eyes there was another look that did not encourage levity; one -would not lightly trifle with him. There was something about the alert -little fellow that insisted on respect, and a touch of the barbaric -counteracted the comedy of the aggressive eyebrows and moustache. In -the eyes, unflinching yet respectful, I fancied to detect another -thing as well: a nameless expression seen sometimes in the eyes of men -who have known uncommon things--habitual amazement grown slowly to -unwilling belief. He was a man, certainly, who would serve his master -to the death and ask no questions. - -But also he would not answer questions; I could get nothing out of him, -as the springless cart drove slowly up the steep mountain road behind -the pair of sturdy horses. _Oui_ and _non_ and _peut-être_ summed -up his conversational powers, till I gave up trying and lapsed into -silence. Perhaps he had not “passed” me yet, not quite approved me. He -was just the sort of faithful, self-contained servant Julius required, -no doubt, and, as a conductor into mysterious adventure, a by no means -inadequate figure. Name, apparently, he had also none, for Julius, as -I learned later, referred to him as simply “he.” But my imagination -instantly christened him “The Dog-Man,” and as such the inscrutable -fellow lives in my memory to this day. He seemed just one degree above -the animal stage. - -But while thought was busy with a dozen speculations, the dusk had -fallen steadily, and the character of the country, I saw, had changed. -It was more rugged and inhospitable, the valleys narrower, the forests -very deep, with taller and more solemn trees, and no signs anywhere of -the axe. An hour ago we had left the main road and turned up a rough, -deep-rutted track that only the feet of oxen seemed to have used. We -moved in comparative gloom, though far overhead the heights shone still -with the gold of sunset. For a long time we had seen no peasant huts, -no sign of habitation, nor passed a single human being. Wood-cutters -and charcoal-burners apparently had not penetrated here, and the -track, I gathered, was used in summer only and led to some lonely farm -among the upper pastures. It was very silent; no wind stirred the sea -of branches; no animal life showed itself; and the only moving things -beside ourselves were the jays that now and again flew across the path -or announced their invisible presence in the woods by raucous screaming. - -Although the ceaseless jolting of the cart was severe, the long -journey most fatiguing, I was sensible of the deep calm that brooded -everywhere. After the bluster of the aggressive Alps, this peaceful -Jura stole on the spirit with a subtle charm. Something whispered that -I was not alone, but that a friendly touch of welcome pervaded the cool -recesses of these wooded hills. The sense of hostile isolation inspired -by the snowy peaks, that faint dismay one knows sometimes at the foot -of towering summits, was wholly absent here. I felt myself, not alien -to these rolling mountains, but akin. I was known and hospitably -admitted, not merely ignored, nor let in at my own grave risk. The -spirit of the mountains here was kind. - -Yet that I was aware of this at all made me realise the presence of -another thing as well: It was in myself, not in these velvet valleys. -For, while the charm of the scenery acted as a sedative, I realised -that something alert in me noted the calming influence and welcomed -it. _That_ did not go to sleep--it resolutely kept awake. A faint -instinct of alarm had been stimulated, if ever so slightly, from the -moment I left the train and touched the atmosphere of my silent guide, -the “Dog-Man.” It was, of course, that he brought his master nearer. -Julius and I should presently meet again, shake hands, look into each -other’s eyes--I should hear his voice and share again the glamour of -his personality. Also there would be--a third. - -It was an element, obviously, in a process of readjustment of my -being which had begun the moment I received his letter; it had -increased while I sat in the Bâle hotel and jotted down those early -recollections--an ingredient in the new grouping of emotions and -sensations constituting myself which received the attack, so to speak, -of what came later. My consciousness was slowly changing. - -Yet this, I think, was all I felt at the moment: a perfectly natural -anticipatory excitement, a stirring wonder, and behind them both a -hint of shrinking that was faint uneasiness. It was the thought of the -woman that caused the last, the old premonition that something grave -involving the three of us would happen. The potent influences of my -youth were already at work again. - -My entrance into the secluded spot Julius had chosen came unexpectedly; -we were suddenly upon it; the effect was almost dramatic. The last -farm-house had been left behind an hour or more, and we had been -winding painfully up a steep ascent that led through a tunnel of dark, -solemn trees, when the forest abruptly stopped, and a little, cup-like -valley lay before me, bounded on three sides by jagged limestone -ridges. Open to the sky like some lonely flower, it lay hidden and -remote upon this topmost plateau, difficult of access to the world. -I saw cleared meadows of emerald green beneath the peeping stars; a -stream ran gurgling past my feet; the surface of a little lake held the -shadows of the encircling cliffs; and at the further end, beneath the -broken outline of the ridges, lights twinkled in a peasant’s châlet. - -The effect was certainly of Fairyland. The stillness and cool air, -after the closeness of the heavy forest, seemed to bring the stars -much nearer. There was a clean, fresh perfume; the atmosphere crystal -clear, the calm profound. I felt a little private world about me, -self-contained, and impressive with a quiet dignity of its own. -Unknown, unspoilt, serene and exquisite, it lay hidden here for some -purpose that vulgar intrusion might not discover. If ever an enchanted -valley existed, it was here before my eyes. - -“So this is the chosen place--this isolated spot of beauty!” My heart -leaped to think that Julius stood already within reach of my voice, -possibly of my sight as well. No meeting-place, surely, could have -been more suitable. - -The cart moved slowly, and the horses, steam rising from their heated -bodies against the purple trees, stepped softly upon the meadow-land. -The sound of hoofs and wheels was left behind, we silently moved up the -gentle slope towards the lights. Night stepped with us from the hills; -the forest paused and waited at a distance; only the faint creaking -of the wheels upon damp grass and the singing of the little stream -were audible. The air grew sharp with upland perfumes. We passed the -diminutive lake that mirrored the first stars. And a curious feeling -reached me from the sky and from the lonely ridges; a nameless emotion -caught my heart a moment; some thrill of high, unearthly loveliness, -familiar as a dream yet gone again before it could be seized, mirrored -itself in the depths of me like those buried stars within the -water--when, suddenly, a figure detached itself from the background -of trees and cliffs, and towards me over the dew-drenched grass -moved--Julius LeVallon. - -He came like a figure from the sky, the forest, the distant ridges. -The spirit of this marvellous spot came with him. He seemed its -incarnation. Whether he first drew me from the cart, or whether I -sprang down to meet him, is impossible to say, for in that big moment -the thousand threads that bound us together with their separate -tensions slipped into a single cable of overwhelming strength. We stood -upon the wet meadow, close to one another, hands firmly clasped, eyes -gazing into eyes. - -“Julius--it’s really you--at last!” I found to say--then his reply in -the old, unchanging voice that made me tremble a little as I heard -it: “I knew you would come--friend of a million years!” He laughed a -little; I laughed too. - -“I promised.” It seemed incredible to me that I had ever hesitated. - -“Ages ago,” I heard his answer. It was like the singing of the stream -that murmured past our feet. “Ages ago.” - -I was aware that he let go my hand. We were moving through the dripping -grass, crossing and recrossing the little stream. The mountains rose -dark and strong about us. I heard the cart lumbering away with creaking -wheels towards the barn. Across the heavens the stars trailed their -golden pattern more and more thickly. I saw them gleaming in the -unruffled lake. I smelt the odour of wood-smoke that came from the -châlet chimney. - -We walked in silence. Those stars, those changeless hills, deep woods -and singing rivulet--primitive and eternal things--accompanied us. They -were the right witnesses of our meeting. And a night-wind, driving the -dusk towards the west, woke in the forest and came out to touch our -faces. Splendour and loneliness closed about us, heralding Powers of -Nature that were here not yet explained away. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - “_We cannot limit the types, superhuman or subhuman, that may - obtain. We can ‘set no bounds to the existence or powers of - sentient beings’--a consideration of the highest importance_, - as well, perhaps, practical as theoretical.... _The discovery - of Superhumans of an exalted kind may be only a question of - time, and the attainment of knowledge on this head one of the - most important achievements in the history of races that are to - come._”--“The Individual and Reality” (Fawcett). - - -Something certainly tightened in my throat as we went across that -soaking grass towards the building that was half châlet, half -farm-house, with steep, heavy roof and wide veranda. The lights -beckoned to us through the little windows. I saw a shadow slip across -the casement window on the upper floor. And my question was out of its -own accord before I could prevent it. My mind held in that moment no -other thought at all; my pulses quickened. - -“So, Julius, you have--found her?” - -And he answered as though no interval of years had been; as -though still we stood in the dawn upon the steps of the Edinburgh -lodging-house. The tone was matter of fact and without emotion: - -“She is with me here--my wife--eager to see you at last.” - -The words dropped down between us like lightning into the earth, and -a sense of chill, so faint I hardly recognised it, passed over me. -Emotion followed instantly, yet emotion, again, so vague, so odd, so -distant in some curious way, that I found no name for it. A shadow as, -perhaps, of disappointment fell on my thoughts. Yet, assuredly, I had -expected no different statement. He had said the right and natural -thing. He had found the woman of his dream and married her. What -lurked, I wondered nervously, behind my lame congratulations? Why was -I baffled and ashamed? What made my speech come forth with a slight -confusion between the thought and its utterance? For--almost--I had -been about to say another thing, and had stopped myself just in time. - -“And she--remembers?” I asked quickly--point-blank, and bluntly -enough--and felt mortified the same instant by my premature curiosity. -Before I could modify my words, or alter them into something less -aggressively inquisitive, he turned and faced me, holding my arm to -make me look at him. His skin wore the familiar marble pallor as of -old; I saw it shine against the dark building where the light from the -window caught it. - -“Me?” he asked quietly, “or--you?” - -“Anything,” I stammered, “anything at all of--of the past, I meant. -Forgive me for asking so abruptly; I----” - -The words froze on my lips at the expression that came into his face. -He merely looked at me and smiled. No more than that, so far as -accurate description goes, and yet enough to make my heart stop dead as -a stone, then start thumping against my ribs as though a paddle-wheel -were loose in me. For it was not Julius in that instant who looked at -me. His white skin masked another; behind and through his eyes this -other stared straight into my own; and this other was familiar to me, -yet unknown. The look disappeared again as instantaneously as it came. - -“You shall judge for yourself,” I heard, as he drew me on towards the -house. - -His tone made further pointed questioning impossible, rousing my -curiosity higher than ever before. Again I saw the woman in my -imagination; I pictured her as a figure half remembered. As the shadow -had slid past the casement of the upper floor, so her outline slipped -now across a rising screen of memory not entirely obliterated. - -The presentment was even vivid: she would be superb. I saw her of the -Greek goddess type, with calm, inscrutable eyes, majestic mien, the -suggestion of strange knowledge in her quiet language and uncommon -gestures. She would be genuinely distinguished, remarkable in mind -as well as in appearance. Already, as we crossed the veranda, the -thrill of anticipation caught me. She would be standing in the hall -to greet us, or, seated before an open fire of logs, would rise out -of the shadows to meet the friend of whom she had doubtless “heard so -much,” and with whom such strange things were now to be accomplished. -The words Julius next actually uttered, accordingly, reached me with -a sense of disappointment that was sharp, and the entire picture -collapsed like a house of cards. The reaction touched my sense of -comedy almost. - -“I think she is still preparing your room,” he said. “I had just taken -the water up when I heard your cart. We have little help, or need for -help. A girl from the farm in the lower valley brings butter sometimes. -We do practically everything ourselves.” I murmured something, courtesy -keeping a smile in check; and then he added, “We chose this solitude on -purpose, of course--she chose it, rather--and you are the first visitor -since we came here months ago. We were only just ready for you; it was -good that you were close--that it was so easy for you to get here.” - -“I am looking forward immensely to seeing Mrs. LeVallon,” I replied, -but such a queer confusion of times and places had fallen on my mind -that my tongue almost said “to seeing her again.” - -He smiled. “She will be with us in the morning,” he added quietly, “if -not to-night.” - -This simple exchange of commonplaces let down the tension of my -emotions pleasantly. He turned towards me as he spoke, and for the -first time, beneath the hanging oil lamp, I noted the signature of the -intervening years. There was a look of power in eyes and mouth that had -not been there previously. I was aware of a new distance between us, -and a new respect came with it. Julius had “travelled.” He seemed to -look down upon me from a height. But, at the same time, the picture his -brief words conveyed had the effect of restoring me to my normal world -again. For nothing more banal could have been imagined, and side by -side with the chagrin to my sense of the theatrical ran also a distinct -relief. It came as a corrective to the loneliness and grandeur of the -setting, and checked the suggestion lying behind the hint that they -were “only just ready” for my coming. - -My emotions sank comfortably to a less inflated level. I murmured -something politely as we passed into the so-called “sitting-room” -together, and for a moment the atmosphere of my own practical world -came in strongly with me. The sense of the incongruous inevitably was -touched. The immense fabric of my friend’s beliefs seemed in that -instant to tremble a little. That the woman he--_we_--had been waiting -for through centuries, this “old soul” taught of the ancient wisdom and -aware of august, forgotten worship, should be “making a bed upstairs” -woke in me a sense of healthy amusement. Julius took up the water! She -was engaged in menial acts! A girl brought butter from a distant farm! -And I could have laughed--but for one other thing that lay behind and -within the comedy. For that other thing was--pathos. There was a kind -of yearning pain at the heart of it: a pain whose origins were too -remote to be discoverable by the normal part of me. - -It touched the poetry in me, too. For after the first disturbing -effect--that it was not adequate--I felt slowly another thing: that -this commonplace meeting was far more likely to be _true_ than the -dramatic sort I had anticipated. It was natural, it was simple; all big -adventures of the soul begin in a quiet way. Obviously, as yet, the two -selves in me were not yet comfortably readjusted. - -I became aware, too, that Julius was what I can only call somewhere -less human than before--more impersonal. He talked, he acted, he even -looked as a figure might outside our world. I had no longer insight -into his being as before. His life lay elsewhere, expresses it best -perhaps. I can hardly present him as a man of flesh and blood. Emotion -broke through so rarely. - -And our talk that evening together--for Mrs. LeVallon put in no -appearance--was ordinary, too. Julius, of course, as ever, used phrases -that belonged to the world peculiarly his own, but he said nothing -startling in the sense I had expected. No dramatic announcement came. -He took things for granted in the way he always did, assuming my -beliefs and theories were his own, and that my scepticism was merely -due to the “mind” in me to-day. We had some supper together, a bowl of -bread and milk the man brought in, and we talked of the intervening -years as naturally as might be--but for this phraseology he favoured. -When the man said “good night,” Julius smiled kindly at him, and the -fellow made a gesture of delight as though the attention meant far more -to him than money. He reminded me again irresistibly, yet in no sense -comically, of a faithful and devoted animal. Julius had patted him! It -was delightful. An inarticulateness, as of the animal world, belonged -to him. His rare words came out with effort, almost with difficulty. -He looked his master straight in the eye, listened to orders with a -personal interest mere servants never have, and, without a trace of -servility in face or manner, hurried off gladly to fulfil them. The -distress in the eyes alone still puzzled me. - -“You have a treasure there,” I said. “He seems devoted to you.” - -“A young soul,” he said, “in a human body for the first time, still -with the innocence and simplicity of the recent animal stage about his -awakening self-consciousness. It is unmistakable....” - -“What sleeps in the vegetable, dreams in the animal, wakes in the man,” -I said, remembering Leibnitz. “I’m glad we’ve left the earlier stages -behind us.” His explanation interested me. “But that expression in his -eyes,” I asked, “that look of searching, almost of anxiety?” - -Julius replied thoughtfully. “My atmosphere acts upon him as a kind -of forcing-house, perhaps. He is dimly aware of knowledge that lies, -at present, too far beyond him--and yet he reaches out for it. -Instinctive, but not yet intuitional. The privilege brings terror. -Opportunities of growth so swift and concentrated involve bewilderment, -even pain.” - -“Pain?” I queried, interested as of old. - -“Development is nothing but a series of little deaths. The soul passes -so quickly to new stages.” He looked up searchingly into my face. “We -knew that privilege once,” he added significantly; “we, too, knew -special teaching.” - -And, though at the moment I purposely ignored this reference to our -“Temple Days,” I understood that this man’s neighbourhood might, -indeed, have an unusual and stimulating effect upon a simple, ignorant -type of mind. Even in my own case his presence gave me furiously to -think. The “Dog-Man,” the more I observed him, was little more than a -faithful creature standing on his hind legs with considerable surprise -and enjoyment that he was able to do so--that “little more” being quite -possibly _self_-consciousness. He showed his teeth when I met him -at the station, whereas, now that I was accepted by his master, his -approval was unlimited. He gave willing service in the form of love. - -While Julius continued speaking, as though nothing else existed at -the moment, I observed him carefully. My eyes assessed the changes in -the outward “expression” of himself. He was thinner, slighter than -before; there was an increased balance and assurance in his manner; a -poise not present in our earlier days; but to say that he looked older -seemed almost a misuse of language. Though the eyes were stronger, -steadier, the lines in the skin more deeply cut, the outline of the -features chiselled with more decision, these, even in combination, -added no signature of age to the general expression of high beauty that -was his. The years had not coarsened, but etherealised the face. Two -other things, moreover, impressed me: the texture of skin and flesh had -refined away, so that the inner light of his enthusiasm shone through; -and--there was a marked increase in what I must term the “feel” of his -immediate atmosphere or presence. Always electric and alive, it now -seemed doubly charged. Against that dark inner screen where the mind -visualises pictorially, he rose in terms of radiant strength. Immense -potency lay suppressed in him; Powers--spiritual or Nature Powers--were -in attendance. He had acquired a momentum that was in some sense both -natural and super-human. It was not unlike the sense of power that -great natural scenes evoke in those who are receptive--mountains, -landscapes, forests. It was elemental. I felt him immense, at the head -of an invisible procession, as it were, a procession from the sky, the -heights, the woods, the stars. - -And a touch of eeriness stole over me. I was aware of strange vitality -in this lonely valley; and I was aware of it--through him. I stood, as -yet, upon the outer fringe. Its remoteness from the modern world was -not a remoteness of space alone, but of--condition. - -There was, however, another thing impossible to ignore--that somewhere -in this building there moved a figure already for me mysterious -and half legendary. Upstairs, not many feet away from us, her step -occasionally audible by the creaking of the boards, she moved, -breathing, thinking, listening, hearing our voices, almost within -touching distance of our hands. There was a hint of the fabulous in it -somewhere. - -And, realising her near presence, I felt a curious emotion rising -through me as from a secret spring. Its character, veiled by interest -and natural anticipation, remained without a name. I could not describe -it to myself even. Each time the thought of meeting her, that she was -close, each time the sound of her soft footfall overhead was audible, -this emotion rose in me pleasurably, yet with dread behind it somewhere -lurking. I caught it stirring; the stream of it went out to this -woman I had never seen with the certain aim of intuitive direction; I -surprised it in the act. But always something blocked it, hiding its -name away. It escaped analysis. And, never more than instantaneous, -passing the very moment it was born, it seemed to me that the opposing -force that blocked it thus had to do with the man who was my host -and my companion. It emanated from him--this objecting force. Julius -checked it; though not with deliberate consciousness--he prevented my -discovery of its nature. There was uncommon and mysterious sweetness in -it, a sweetness as of long mislaid romance that lifted the heart. Yet -it returned each time upon me, blank and unrewarded. - -It was noticeable, moreover, that our talk avoided the main object -of my presence here. LeVallon talked freely of other things, of the -“Dog-Man,” of myself--I gave him a quick sketch of my life in the long -interval--of anything and everything but the purpose of my coming. -There was, doubtless, awkwardness on my side, since my instinct was -not to take my visit heavily, but to regard the fulfilment of my -old-time pledge as an adventure, even a fantasy, rather than the -serious acceptance of a grave “experiment.” His reluctance, yet, was -noticeable. He told me little or nothing of himself by way of exchange. - -“To-morrow, when you are thoroughly rested from your journey,” he met -my least approach to the matter that occupied our deepest thoughts; -or--“later, when you’ve had a little time to get acclimatised. You must -let this place soak into you. Rest and sleep and take things easy; -there is no hurry--here.” Until I realised that he wished to establish -a natural sympathy between my being and the enchanted valley, to avoid -anything in the nature of surprise or shock which might disturb a -desired harmony, and that, in fact, the absence of his wife and his -silence about himself were both probably intentional. Conditions were -to flow in upon me of their own accord and naturally, thus reducing -possible hostility to a minimum. Before we rose to go to bed an hour -later this had become a conviction in me. It was all thought out -beforehand. - -We stood a moment on the veranda to taste the keen, sweet air and see -the dark mountains blocked against the stars. The sound of running -water was all we heard. No lights, of course, showed anywhere. The -meadows, beneath thin, frosty mist, lay very still. But the valley -somehow rushed at me; it seemed so charged to the brim with stimulating -activity and life. Something felt on the move in it. I stood in the -presence of a crowd, waiting to combine with energies latent in it. I -was aware of the idea of co-operation almost. - -“One of the rare places,” he said significantly when I remarked upon it -cautiously, “where all is clean and open still. Humanity has been here, -but humanity of the helpful kind. We went to infinite trouble to find -it.” - -It was the first time he had come so near to the actual subject. I was -aware he watched me, although his eyes were turned towards the darkness -of the encircling forest. - -“And--your wife likes it too?” For though I remembered that she had -“chosen it,” its loneliness must surely have dismayed an ordinary woman. - -Still with his eyes turned out across the valley, he replied, “She -chose it. Yes”--he hesitated slightly--“she likes it, though not -always----” He broke off abruptly, still without looking at me, then -added, as he came a little nearer, “But we both agree--we _know_ it is -the right place for us.” That “us,” I felt certain, included myself as -well. - -I did not press for explanation at the moment. I touched upon another -thing. - -“Humanity, you say, has been here! I should have thought some virgin -corner of the earth would have suited your--purpose--better?” Then, as -he did not answer for a moment, I added: “This is surely an ordinary -peasant’s house that you’ve made comfortable?” - -He looked at me. A breath of wind went past us. I had the ghostly -feeling someone had been listening; and a faint shiver ran across my -nerves. - -“A peasant’s, yes, but not”--and he smiled--“an ordinary peasant. We -found here an old man with his sons; they, or their forbears, had lived -in isolation for generations in this valley; they were ‘superstitious’ -in the sense of knowing Nature and understanding her. They _believed_, -though in an imperfect and degraded form, what was once a living truth. -They sold out to me quite willingly and are now established in the -plains below. In this loneliness, away from modern ‘knowledge,’ they -loved what surrounded them, and in that sense their love was worship. -They felt-with the forests, with streams and mountains, with clouds and -sky, with dawn and sunset, with the darkness too.” He looked about him -as he said it, and my eyes followed the direction of his own across the -night. Again the valley stirred and moved throughout its whole expanse. -“They also,” Julius continued in a lower tone, his face closer than -before, “felt-with the lightning and the wind.” - -I could have sworn some subtle change went through the surrounding -darkness as he said the words. Fire and wind sprang at me, so vivid was -their entrance into my thought. Again that slight shudder ran tingling -up my spine. - -“The place,” he continued, “is therefore already prepared to some -extent, for the channels that we need are partly open. The veil is here -unthickened. We can work with less resistance.” - -“There is certainly peace,” I agreed, “and an uplifting sense of -beauty.” - -“You feel it?” he asked quickly. - -“I feel extraordinarily and delightfully alive,” I admitted truthfully. - -Whereupon he turned to me with a still more significant rejoinder: - -“Because that which worship and consecration-ceremonies ought to -accomplish for churches--are meant to accomplish, rather--has never -been here _undone_. All places were holy ground until men closed the -channels with their unbelief and thus defiled them by cutting them off -from the life about them.” - -I heard a window softly closing above us; we turned and went indoors. -Julius put the lamps out one by one, taking a candle to show me up the -stairs. We went along the wooden passage. We passed several doors, -beneath one of which I saw a line of light. My own room was at the -further end, simply, almost barely, furnished, with just the actual -necessaries. He paused at the threshold, shook my hand, said a short -“good night,” and left me, closing the door behind him carefully. I -heard his step go softly down the passage. A door in the distance also -opened and closed. Then complete silence hushed the entire house about -me, yet a silence that was listening and alive. No ancient, turreted -castle, with ivied walls and dungeons, with forsaken banqueting-hall -or ghostly corridors, could possibly have felt more haunted than this -peasant’s châlet in the Jura fastnesses. - -For a considerable time I sat at my open window, thinking; and yet not -thinking so much, perhaps, as--relaxing. I was aware that my mind had -been at high tension the entire day, almost on guard--as though seeking -unconsciously to protect itself. Ever since the morning I had been on -the alert against quasi-attack, and only now did I throw down my arms -and abandon myself without reserve. Something I had been afraid of had -shown itself friendly after all. A feeling of security stole over me; -I was safe; gigantic powers were round me, oddly close, yet friendly, -provided I, too, was friendly. It was a singular feeling of being -helpless, yet cared for. The valley took hold of me and all my little -human forces. To set myself against it would be somehow dangerous, -but to go with it, adopting its overmastering stride, was safety. -This became suddenly clear to me--that I must be sympathetic and that -hostility on my part might involve disaster. - -Here, apparently, was the first symptom of that power which Julius -declared was derived from “feeling-with.” I began to understand another -thing as well; I recalled his choice of words--that the veil hereabouts -was “unthickened” and the channels “open.” He did not say the veil was -thin, the channels cleared. It was in its native, primitive condition. - -I sat by the window, letting the valley pour through and over me. It -flooded my being with its calm and beauty. The stars were very bright -above the ridges; small clouds passed westwards; the water sang and -tinkled; the cup-like hollow had its secrets, but it told them. I had -never known night so wonderfully articulate. Power brooded here. I felt -my blood quicken with the sense of kinship. - -And the little room with its unvarnished pine-boards that held a -certain forest perfume, was comforting too; the odour of peat fires -still clung to the darkened rafters overhead; the candle, in its -saucer-like receptacle of wood, gave just the simple, old-fashioned -light that was appropriate. Bodily fatigue made bed exceedingly -welcome, though it was long before I fell asleep. Figures, at first, -stole softly in across the night and peered at me--Julius, pale and -rapt, remote from the modern world; the silent “Dog-Man,” with those -eyes of questioning wonder and half-disguised distress. And another -ghostly figure stole in too, though without a face I could decipher; -a woman whom the long, faultless balance of the ages delivered, with -the rest of us, into the keeping of this lonely spot for some deep -purpose of our climbing souls. Their outlines hovered, mingled with the -shadows, and withdrew. - -And a certain change in myself, though perhaps not definitely noted at -the time, was apparent too--I found in my heart a singular readiness -to believe. While sleep crept nearer, and reason dropped a lid, -there assuredly was in me, as part of something accepted naturally, -the likelihood that LeVallon’s attitude was an aspect of forgotten -truth. Veiled in Nature’s operations, perchance directing them, and -particularly in spots of loneliness such as this, dwelt those mighty -elemental Potencies he held were accessible to humanity. A phrase -from some earlier reading floated back to me, as though deliberately -supplied--not that Nature “works towards what are called ‘ends,’ but -that it was possible or rather probable, that ‘ends’ which implied -conscious superhuman activities, are being realised.” The sentence, for -some reason, had remained in my memory. When life was simpler, closer -to Nature, some such doctrine may have been objectively verifiable, and -worship, in the sense that Julius used the word, might well promise to -restore the grandeur of forgotten beliefs which should make men as the -gods.... - -With the delightful feeling that in this untainted valley, the woods, -the mountains, the very winds and stormy lightnings, were yet but -the physical vehicle of powers that expressed intelligence and true -_being_, I passed from dozing into sleep, the cool outside air touching -my eyelids with the beauty of the starry Jura night. An older, earlier -type of consciousness--though I did not phrase it to myself thus--was -asserting itself and taking charge of me. The spell was on my heart. - -Yet the human touch came last of all, following me into the complicated -paths of slumber, and haunting me as with half-recovered memories -of far-off, enchanted days. Uncommon visions met my descending or -ascending consciousness, so that while brain and body slept, some -deeper part of me went travelling swiftly backwards. I knew the old -familiar feeling that the whole of me did not sleep ... and, though -remembering nothing definite, my first thought on awakening was the -same as my final thought on falling into slumber: What manner of -marvellous woman would _she_ prove to be? - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - “_Thy voice is like to music heard ere birth, - Some spirit lute touched on a spirit sea; - Thy face remembered is from other worlds. - It has been died for, though I know not when, - It has been sung of, though I know not where. - It has the strangeness of the luring West, - And of sad sea-horizons; beside thee - I am aware of other times and lands, - Of birth far back, of lives in many stars._” - --“Marpessa” (Stephen Phillips). - - -During sleep, however, the heavier emotions had sunk to the bottom, -the lighter had risen to the top. I woke with a feeling of vigour, and -with the sense called “common” distinctly in the ascendant. Through the -open window came sunshine in a flood, the crisp air sparkled. I could -taste it from my bed. Youth ran in my veins and ten years seemed to -drop from my back as I sprang up and thrust my face into the radiant -morning. Drawing a deep draught into my lungs, I must at the same time -have unconsciously exclaimed, for the peasant girl gathering vegetables -below--the garden, such as it was, merged into the pastures--looked -up startled. She had been singing to herself. I withdrew my pyjamaed -figure hurriedly, while she, as hurriedly, let drop the skirts the dew -had made her lift so high; and when I peeped a moment later, she had -gone. I, too, felt inclined to sing with happiness, so invigorating was -the clear brilliance of the opening day. A joyful irresponsibility, as -of boyhood, coursed in my tingling blood. Everything in this enchanted -valley seemed young and vigorous; the stream ran gaily past the shining -trees; the meadows glistened; the very mountains wore a lustre as of -life that ran within their solid frames. - -It was impossible to harbour the slightest thought of dread before -such peace and beauty; all ominous forebodings fled away; this joy and -strength of Nature brought in life. Even the “Dog-Man” smiled with eyes -unclouded when, a little later, he brought a small pail of boiling -water, and informed me that there was a pool in the forest close at -hand where I could bathe. He nosed about the room--only thus can I -describe his friendly curiosity for my welfare--fussed awkwardly with -my boots and clothes, looked frankly into my eyes with an expression -that said plainly “How are _you_ this morning? I’m splendid!” grunted, -sniffed, almost wagged his tail for pleasure--and trotted out. And he -went, I declare, as though he had heard a rabbit and must be after it. -The laughter in me was only just suppressed, for I could have sworn -that he expected me to pat him, with the remark “Good fellow! Sik ’em, -then!” or words to that effect. - -The secluded valley, walled-in from the blustering world like some -wild, primitive garden, was drenched in sunshine by the time I went -downstairs; the limestone cliffs a mile away of quite dazzling -brilliance; and the pine woods across the meadow-land scented the whole -interior of the little châlet. But for stray wisps of autumn mist -that still clung along the borders of the stream, it might have been -a day in June the mountains still held prisoner. My heart leaped with -the beauty. This lonely region of woods and mountain tops suggested -the presence of some Nature Deity that presided over it, and as I -stood a moment on the veranda, I turned at a sound of footsteps to -see the figure of my imagination face to face. “If _she_ is of equal -splendour!” flashed instantly through my mind. For Julius wore the -glory of the morning in his eyes, the neck was bare and the shirt a -little open; standing there erect in his mountain clothes, he was -as like the proverbial Greek god as any painter could have possibly -desired. - -“Whether I slept well?” I answered his inquiry. “Why, Julius, I feel -positively like a boy again. This place has worked magic on me while I -slept. There’s the idea in me that one must live for ever.” - -And, even while I said it, my eyes glanced over his shoulder into the -hall for a sight of someone who any moment might appear. Excitement was -high in me. - -Julius quietly held my hand in his own firm grasp a second. - -“Life came to you in sleep,” he said. “I told you--I warned you, -the channels here were open and easily accessible. All power--all -powers--everywhere are natural. Our object is to hold them, isn’t it?” - -“You mean control them?” I said, still watching the door behind him. - -“They visit the least among us; they touch us, and are gone. The -essential is to harness them--in this case before they harness -us--again.” - -I made no reply. The other excitement was too urgent in me. - -Linking his arm in mine, he led me towards a corner of the main room, -half hall, half kitchen, where a white tablecloth promised breakfast. -The “man” was already busying himself to and fro with plates and a -gleaming metal pot that steamed. I smelt coffee and the fragrance -of baked bread. But I listened half-heartedly to my host’s curious -words because every minute I expected the door to open. There was a -nervousness in me what I should find to say to such a woman when she -came. - -Was there, as well, among my bolder feelings, a faint suspicion of -something else--something so slight and vague it hardly left a trace, -while yet I was aware that it had been there? I could not honestly say. -I only knew that, again, there stirred about my heart unconsciously -a delicate spider-web of resentment, envy, disapproval--call it what -one may, since it was too slight to own a definite name--that seemed -to wake some ghost of injustice, of a grievance almost, in the hidden -depths of me. It passed, unexplained, untraceable. Perhaps I smothered -it, perhaps I left it unacknowledged. I know not. So elusive an emotion -I could not retain a second, far less label. “Julius has found her; she -is his,” was the clear thought that followed it. No more than that. And -yet--like the shadow of a leaf, it floated down upon me, darkening, -though almost imperceptibly, some unknown corner of my heart. - -And, remembering my manners, I asked after her indisposition, while he -laughed and insisted upon our beginning breakfast; she would presently -join us; I should see her for myself. He looked so happy that I yielded -to the momentary temptation. - -“Julius,” I said, by way of compliment and somewhat late -congratulation, “she must be wonderful. I’m so--so very pleased--for -you.” - -“Yes,” he said, as he poured coffee and boiling milk into my wooden -bowl, “and we have waited long. But the opportunity has come at last, -and this time we shall not let it slip.” - -The simple words were not at all the answer I expected. There was a -mingling of relief and anxiety in his voice; I remembered that she “did -not always like it here,” and I wondered again what my “understanding” -was to be that he had promised would “come later.” What determined her -change of mood? Why did she sometimes like it, and sometimes not like -it? Was it loneliness, or was it due to things that--happened? Any -moment now she would be in the room, holding my hand, looking into my -eyes, expecting from me words of greeting, speaking to me. I should -hear her voice. Twice I turned quickly at the sound of an opening -door, only to find myself face to face with the “man”; but at length -came a sound that was indisputably the rustle of skirts, and, with -a quickening of the heart, I pushed my plate away, and rose from my -chair, turning half way to greet her. - -Disappointment met me again, however, for this time it was merely -the peasant girl I had seen from my window; and once more I sat down -abruptly, covering my confusion with a laugh and feeling like a -schoolboy surprised in a foolish mistake. And then a movement from -Julius opposite startled me. He had risen from his seat. There was a -new expression on his face, an extraordinary expression--observation -the most alert imaginable, anxiety, question, the tension of various -deep emotions oddly mingled. He watched me keenly. He watched us both. - -“My wife,” he said quietly, as the figure advanced towards us. Then, -turning to her: “And this is my friend, Professor Mason.” He indicated -myself. - -I rose abruptly, startled and dismayed, nearly upsetting the chair -behind me in my clumsiness. The “Professor Mason” sounded ludicrous, -almost as ludicrous as the “Mrs. LeVallon” he had not uttered. I -stared. She stared. There was a moment of blank silence. Disappointment -petrified me. There was no distinction, there was no beauty. She was -tall and slim, and the face, of a commonplace order, was slightly -pockmarked. I forgot all manners. - -She was the first to recover. We both laughed. But if there was -nervousness of confused emotion in my laugh, there was in hers a happy -pleasure, frankly and naturally expressed. - -“How do you do, sir--Professor?” she instantly corrected herself, -shaking me vigorously, yet almost timidly, by the hand. It was a -provincial and untutored voice. - -“I’m--delighted to see you,” my lips stammered, stopping dead before -the modern title. The control of my breath was not quite easy for a -moment. - -We sat down. In her words--or was it in her manner, rather?--there -was a hint of undue familiarity that tinged my disappointment with -a flash of disapproval too, yet caught up immediately by a kind of -natural dignity that denied offence, or at any rate, corrected it. -Another impression then stole over me. I was aware of charm. The -voice, however, unquestionably betrayed accent. Of the “lady,” in the -restricted, ordinary meaning of the word, there was no pretence. A -singular revulsion made me tremble. For a moment she had held my hand -with deliberate pressure, while her eyes remained fixed upon my face -with a direct, a searching intentness. She too, like her husband, -watched me. If she formed a swift, intuitive judgment regarding myself, -nothing at first betrayed it. I was aware, however, at once, that, -behind the decision of her natural frankness, something elusive -hovered. The effect was highly contradictory, even captivating, -certainly provocative of curiosity. Accompanying her laughter was a -delicate, swift flush, and the laugh, though loud in some other sense -than of sound alone, was not unmusical. A breath of glamour, seductive -as it was fleeting, caught me as I heard. - -For a moment or two my senses certainly reeled. It seemed that swift -shutters rose and fell before my eyes. One screen rolled up, another -dropped, vistas opened, vanishing before their depths showed anything. -The châlet, with our immediate surroundings, faded; I was aware of -ourselves only, chiefly, however, of her. This first sight of her had -the effect that years before Julius had produced: the peculiar sense of -“other places.” And this in spite of myself, without any decided belief -of my own as yet to help it.... - -The confusion of my senses passed then, and consciousness focused -clearly once more on my surroundings. The disturbed emotions, -however, refused wholly to quiet down. Her face, I noted, beneath the -disfiguring marks, was rosy, and the grey-green eyes were very bright. -They were luminous, changing eyes, their hue altering of its own accord -apart from mere play or angle of the light. Sometimes their grey merged -wholly into green, but a very wonderful deep green that made them like -the sea; later, again, they were distinctly blue. They lit the entire -face, its expression changing when they changed. The frank and open -innocence of the child in them was countered, though not injuriously, -by an unfathomed depth that had its effect upon the whole physiognomy. -An arresting power shone in them as if imperiously. There were two -faces there. - -And the singular and fascinating effect of these dominating eyes left -further judgment at first disabled. I noticed, however, that her mouth -had that generous width that makes for strength rather than for beauty; -that the teeth were fine and regular; and that the brown hair, tinged -with bronze, was untidy about the neck and ears. A narrow band of -black velvet encircled the throat; she wore a blouse, short skirt, -and high brown boots with nails that clattered on the stone flooring -when she moved. Since gathering vegetables in the dawn she had changed -her costume, evidently. A certain lightness, I saw now, had nothing of -irresponsibility in it, but was merely youth, vitality, and physical -vigour. She was fifteen years younger than Julius, if a day, and I -judged her age no more than twenty-five perhaps. - -“It’s a pore house to have your friends to,” she said in her breezy, -uncultivated voice, “but I hope you managed all right with your -room--Professor?” It was the foundation of the voice that had the -uncultivated sound; on the top of it, like a layer of something -imitated or acquired, there was refinement. I got the impression that, -unconsciously, she aped the better manner of speech, yet was not aware -she did so. - -Burning questions rose within me as I listened to this opening -conversation: How much she knew, and believed, of her husband’s vast -conceptions; what explanation of my visit he had offered her, what -explanation of myself; chief of all, how much--if anything--she -remembered? For our coming together in this hidden Jura valley under -conditions that seemed one minute ludicrous, and the next sublime, was -the alleged meeting of three Souls who had not recognised each other -through bodily, human eyes for countless centuries. And our purpose, -if not madness, held a solemnity that might well belong to a forgotten -method of approaching deity. - -“He’s told me such a lot about you, Julius has,” she continued half -shyly, jerking her thumb in the direction of her husband, “that I -wanted to see what you were like.” It was said naturally, as by a -child; yet the freedom might equally have been assumed to conceal -an admitted ignorance of manners. “You’re such--very old friends, -aren’t you?” She seemed to look me up and down. I thought I detected -disappointment in her too. - -“We were together at school and university, you see,” I made reply, -shirking the title again, “but it’s a good many years now since we met. -We’ve been out of touch for a long time. I hadn’t even heard of his -marriage. My congratulations are late, but most sincere.” - -I bowed. Strange! Both in word and gesture some faintest hint of -sarcasm or resentment forced itself against my conscious will. The -blood rose--I hoped unnoticed--to my cheeks. My eyes dropped quickly -from her face. - -“That’s reely nice of you,” she said simply, and without a touch of -embarrassment anywhere. She cut a lump of bread from the enormous loaf -in front of us and broke it in little pieces into her bowl of milk. Her -spoon remained standing in her coffee cup. It seemed impossible for -me to be unaware of any detail that concerned her, either of gesture -or pronunciation. I noticed every tiniest detail whether I would or -no. Her charm, I decided, increased. It was wholly independent of her -looks. It took me now and again by surprise, as it were. - -“Maybe--I suppose he didn’t know where you were,” she added, as Julius -volunteered no word. “But he was shore you’d come if you got the -letter.” - -“It was a promise,” her husband put in quietly. Evidently he wished us -to make acquaintance in our own way. He left us alone with purpose, -content to watch and show his satisfaction. The relationship between -them seemed natural and happy, utterly devoid of the least sign of -friction. She certainly--had I perhaps, anticipated otherwise?--showed -no fear of him. - -The “man” came in with a plate of butter, clattering out noisily again -in his heavy boots. He gave us each a look in turn, of anxiety first, -and then of pleasure. All was well with us, he felt. His eyes, however, -lingered longest on his mistress, as though she needed his protective -care more than we did. It was the attitude and expression of a faithful -dog who knows he has the responsibility of a child upon his shoulders, -and is both proud and puzzled by the weight of honour. - -A pause followed, during which I made more successful efforts to subdue -the agitation that was in me. I broke the silence by a commonplace, -expressing a hope that my late arrival the night before had not -disturbed her. - -“Lord, no!” she exclaimed, laughing gaily, while she glanced from me to -Julius. “Only I thought you and he’d like to be alone for a bit after -such a long time apart.... Besides, I didn’t fancy my food somehow--I -get that way up here sometimes,” she added, “don’t I, Julius?” - -“You’ve been here some time already?” I asked sympathetically, before -he could reply. - -“Ever since the wedding,” she answered frankly. “Seven--getting on for -eight--months ago, it is now--we came up straight from the Registry -Office. At times it’s a bit funny, an’ no mistake--lonely, I mean,” -she quickly corrected herself. And she looked at her husband again -with a kind of childish mischief in her expression that I thought most -becoming. - -“It’s not for ever, is it?” he laughed with her. - -“And I understand you chose it, didn’t you?” I fell in with her mood. -“It must be lonely, of course, sometimes,” I added. - -“Yes, we chose it,” she replied. “We choose everything together.” And -they looked proudly at each other like two children. For a moment -it flashed across me to challenge him playfully, yet not altogether -playfully, for burying a young wife in such a deserted place. I did not -yield to the temptation, however, and Mrs. LeVallon continued breezily -in her off-hand manner: - -“Julius wanted you badly, I know. You must stay here now we’ve got -you. There’s reelly lots to do, once you get used to it; only it -seems strange at first after city life--like what I’ve had, and -sometimes”--she hesitated a second--“well, of an evening, or when it -gets stormy--the thunder-storms are something awful--you feel wild -and want to do things, to rush about and take your clothes off.” She -stopped; and the deep green of the sea came up into her eyes. Again, -for an instant, I caught two faces in her. “It turns you wild here when -the wind gets to blowing,” she added, laughing, “and the lightning’s -like loose, flying fire.” The way she said it made me forget the -physical disabilities. There was even a hint of fascination somewhere -in the voice. - -“It takes you back to the natural, primitive state,” I said. “I can -well believe it.” And no amount of restraint could keep the admiration -out of my eyes. “Civilisation is easily forgotten in a place like this.” - -“Oh, is that it?” she said shortly, while we laughed, all three -together. “Civilisation--eh?” - -I got the impression that she felt left out of something, something she -knew was going on, but that didn’t include her quite. Her intuition, I -judged, was very keen. Beneath this ordinary conversation she was aware -of many things. She was fully conscious of a certain subdued excitement -in the three of us, and that between her husband and her guest there -was a constant interplay of half-discovered meaning, half-revealed -emotion. She was reading me too. Yet all without deliberation; it was -intuitive, the mind took no conscious part in it. And, when she spoke -of the effect of the valley upon her, I saw her suddenly a little -different, too--wild and free, untamed in a sense, and close to the -elemental side of life. Her enthusiasm for big weather betrayed it. -During the whole of breakfast, indeed, we all were “finding” one -another, Julius in particular making notes. For him, of course, there -was absorbing interest in this meeting of three souls whom Fate had -kept so long apart--the signs of recognition he detected or imagined, -the sympathy, the intimacy betrayed by the way things were _taken for -granted_ between us. He said no word, however. He was very quiet. - -My own feelings, meanwhile, seemed tossed together in too great -and violent confusion for immediate disentanglement. My sense of -the dramatic fitness of things was worse than unsatisfied--it was -shattered. Julius unquestionably had married a superior domestic -servant. - -“Is the bread to your liking, Professor?” - -“I think it’s quite delicious, Mrs. LeVallon. It tempts me even to -excess,” I added, facetious in my nervousness. I had used her name at -last, but with an effort. - -“I made it,” she said proudly. “Mother taught me that before I was -fifteen.” - -“And the butter, too?” I asked. - -“No,” she laughed, with a touch of playful disappointment. “We get that -from a farm five miles down the valley. It’s in special honour of your -arrival, this.” - -“Our nearest contact with the outside world,” added Julius, “and -over a thousand feet below us. We’re on a little plateau here all by -ourselves----” - -“Put away like,” she interrupted gaily, “as though we’d been naughty,” -and then she added, “or for something special and very mysterious.” -She looked into his face half archly, half inquisitively, as if aware -of something she divined yet could not understand. Her honesty and -sincerity made every little thing she said seem dignified. I was again -aware of pathos. - -“The peace and quiet,” I put in quickly, conscious of something within -me that watched and listened intently, “must be delightful--after the -cities--and with the great storms you mention to break the possible -monotony.” - -She looked at me a full moment steadily, and in her eyes, no longer -green but sky-blue, I read the approach of that strange expression I -called another “face,” that in the end, however, did not fully come. -But the characteristic struck me, for Julius had it too. - -“Oh, you find out all about yourself in a place like this,” she said -slowly, “a whole lot of things you didn’t know before. You’ll like it; -but it’s not for everybody. It’s very élite.” She turned to Julius. -“The Professor’ll love it, won’t he? And we must keep him,” she -repeated, “now we’ve got him.” - -Something moved between the three of us as she said it. There was no -inclination in me to smile, even at the absurd choice of a word. An -upheaving sense of challenge came across the air at me, including -not only ourselves at the breakfast table, but the entire valley as -well. Against some subterranean door in me rose sudden pressure, and -the woman’s commonplace words had in them something incalculable that -caused the door to yield. Out rushed a pouring, bursting flood. A wild -delight of beauty ran suddenly in my civilised veins; I felt uplifted, -stimulated, carried off my feet. - -It was but the flash and touch of a passing mood, of course, yet it -marked a change in me, another change. _She_ was aware of elemental -powers even as her husband was. First through him, but now through her, -I, too, was becoming similarly--aware. - -I glanced at Julius, calmly devouring bread and milk beyond all reach -of comedy--Julius who recognised an “old soul” in a servant girl with -the same conviction that he invoked the deific Powers of a conscious -Nature; to whom nothing was trivial, nothing final, the future -magnificent as the past, and behind whose chair stood the Immensities -whispering messages of his tireless evolutionary scheme. And I saw him -“unclassable”--merely an eternal, travelling soul, working out with -myself and with this other “soul” some detail long neglected by the -three of us. Marriage, class, social status, education, culture--what -were they but temporary external details, whose sole value lay in their -providing conditions for acquiring certain definite experiences? Life’s -outer incidents were but episodic, after all. - -And this flash of insight into his point of view came upon me thus -suddenly through _her_. The mutual sympathy and understanding between -the three of us that he so keenly watched for had advanced rapidly. -Another stage was reached. The foundations seemed already established -here among us. - -Thus, while surprise, resentment and distress fought their battle -within me against something that lay midway between disbelief and -acceptance, my mind was aware of a disharmony that made judgment -extremely difficult. Almost I knew the curious feeling that one of us -had been fooled. It was all so incongruous and disproportioned, on the -edge of the inconceivable. And yet, at the same time, some sense of -keen delight awoke in me that satisfied. Joy glowed in some depth I -could not reach or modify. - -Had the “woman” proved wonderful in some ordinary earthly way, I -could have continued to share in a kind of dramatic make-believe -LeVallon’s imagination of an “old soul” returned. The sense of fitness -would have felt requited. Yet what so disconcerted me was that this -commonplace disclosure of the actual facts did not destroy belief, but -even increased it! This unexpected and banal _dénouement_, denying, -apparently, all the requirements of his creed, fell upon me with a -crash of reality that was arresting in an entirely unexpected way. It -made the conception so much more likely--possible--true! - -Out of some depth in me I could not summon to the bar of judgment -or analysis rose the whisper that in reality the union of these two -was not so incongruous and outrageous as it seemed. To a penetrating -vision such as his, what difference could that varnish of the mind -called “education” pretend to make? Or how could he be deceived by the -surface tricks of “refinement,” in accent, speech, and manner, that so -often cloak essential crudeness and vulgarity? These were to him but -the external equipment of a passing To-day, whereas he looked for the -innate acquirements due to real experience--age in the soul itself. -Her social status, education and so forth had nothing to do with--her -actual Self. In some ultimate region that superficial human judgment -barely acknowledges the union of these two seemed right, appropriate -and inevitably true. - -This breakfast scene remains graven in my mind. LeVallon talked little, -even as he ate little, while his wife and I satisfied our voracious -appetites with the simple food provided. She chattered _sans gêne_, -eating not ungracefully so much as in a manner untaught. Her smallest -habits drew my notice and attention of their own accord. I watched the -velvet band rising and falling as she swallowed--noisily, talking and -drinking with her mouth full, and holding her knife after the manner of -the servants’ hall. Her pronunciation at times was more than marked. -For instance, though she did not say “gime,” she most assuredly did -not say “game,” and her voice, what men call “common,” was undeniably -of the upper servant class. While guilty now and again of absurd -solecisms, she chose words sometimes that had an air of refinement -above the ordinary colloquial usage--the kind affected by a lady’s-maid -who has known service in the “upper suckles” of the world--“close” -the door in place of simply “shut” it, “commence” in preference to -the ordinary “begin,” “costume” rather than merely “clothes,” and a -hundred others of similar kind. Sofa, again, was “couch.” She missed a -sentence, and asked for it with “What say?” while her “if you please” -and “pardon” held a suspicion of that unction which, it seemed, only -just remembered in time not to add “sir,” or even “my lady.” She halted -instinctively before a door, as though to let her husband or myself -pass out in front, and even showed surprise at being helped at the -table before ourselves. These and a thousand other revealing touches -I noticed acutely, because I had expected something so absolutely -different. I was profoundly puzzled. - -Yet, while I noted closely these social and mental disabilities, I -was aware also of their flat and striking contradiction; and her -beautifully-shaped hands, her small, exquisite feet and ankles, her -natural dignity of carriage, gesture, bearing, were the least of these. -Setting her beside maid or servitor, my imagination recoiled as from -something utterly ill-placed. I could have sworn she owned some secret -pedigree that no merely menial position could affect, most certainly -not degrade. In spite of less favourable indications, so thick about -her, I caught unmistakable tokens of a superiority she herself ignored, -which yet proclaimed that her soul stood erect and four-square to the -winds of life, independent wholly of the “social position” her body -with its untutored brain now chanced to occupy. - -Exactly the nature of these elusive signs of innate nobility I find -it more than difficult to describe. They rose subtly out of her, yet -evaded separate subtraction from either the gestures or conversation -that revealed them. They explained the subtle and increasing charm. -They were of the soul. - -For, even thus early in our acquaintance, there began to emerge -these other qualities in this simple girl that at first the shock of -disappointment and surprise had hidden from me. The apparent emptiness -of her face was but a mask that cloaked an essential, native dignity. -From time to time, out of those strange, arresting eyes that at first -had seemed all youth and surface, peered forth that other look, -standing a moment to query and to judge, then, like moods of sky which -reveal and hide a depth of sea, plunged out of sight again. It betrayed -an inner, piercing sight of a far deeper kind. Out of this deeper part -of her I felt she watched me steadily--to wonder, ask, and weigh. It -was hence, no doubt, I had the curious impression of two faces, two -beings, in her, and the moments when I surprised her peering thus -were, in a manner, electrifying beyond words. For then, into tone -and gesture, conquering even accent and expression, crept flash-like -this “something” that would not be denied, hinting at the distinction -of true spiritual independence superior to all local, temporary, or -worldly divisions implied in mere “class” or “station.” - -This girl, behind her ignorance of life’s snobbish values, possessed -that indefinable spiritual judgment best called “taste.” And taste, -I remember Julius held, was the infallible evidence of a soul’s -maturity--of age. The phrase “old soul” acquired more meaning for me as -I watched her. I recalled that strange hint of his long years before, -that greatness and position, as the world accepts them, are actually -but the kindergarten stages for the youngest, crudest souls of all. The -older souls are not “distinguished” in the “world.” They are beyond it. - -Moreover, during the course of this singular first meal together, while -she used the phraseology of the servant class and betrayed the manners -of what men call “common folk,” it was borne in upon me that she, too, -unknowingly, touched the same vast sources of extended life that her -husband claimed to realise, and that her being unknowingly swept that -region of elemental Powers with which he now sought conscious union. -In her infectious vitality beat the pulse of vaster tides than she yet -knew. - -Already, in our conversation, this had come to me; it increased -from minute to minute as our atmospheres combined and mingled. -The suggestion of what I must call great exterior Activities that -always accompanied the presence of Julius made themselves felt also -through the being of this simple and uneducated girl. Winds, cool and -refreshing, from some elemental region blew soundlessly about her. I -was aware of their invigorating currents. And this came to me with my -first emotions, and was not due to subsequent reflection. For, in my -own case, too, while resenting the admission, I felt something more -generously scaled than my normal self, scientifically moulded, trying -to urge up as with great arms and hands that thrust into my mind. What -hitherto had seemed my complete Self opened, as though it were but a -surface tract, revealing depths of consciousness unguessed before. - -And this, I think, was the disquieting sensation that perplexed -me chiefly with a sense of unstable equilibrium. The idea of -pre-existence, with its huge weight of memory lost and actions -undischarged, pressed upon a portion of my soul that was trying to -awake. The foundations of my known personality appeared suddenly -insecure, and what the brain denied, this other part accepted, even -half remembered. The change of consciousness in me was growing. While -observing Mrs. LeVallon, listening to the spontaneous laughter that ran -between her sentences, meeting her quick eyes that took in everything -about them, these varied and contradictory judgments of my own worked -their inevitable effect upon me. The quasi-memory, with its elusive -fragrance of far-off, forgotten things; the promised reconstruction of -passionate emotions that had burned the tissues of our earlier bodies -before even the foundations of these “eternal” hills were laid; the -sense of being again among ancient friends, netted by deathless forces -of spiritual adventure and desire--Julius, his wife, myself, mutually -involved in the intricate pattern of our souls’ development:--all this, -while I strove to regard it as mere telepathic reflection from his own -beliefs, yet made something in me, deeper than any ratiocination, stand -up and laugh in my face with the authoritative command that it was -absolutely--true. - -Our very intimacy, so readily established as of its own -accord--established, moreover, among such unlikely and half -antagonistic elements--seemed to hint at a relationship resumed, -instead of now first beginning. The fact that the three of us took so -much for granted almost suggested memory. For the near presence of this -woman--I call her woman, though she was but girl--disturbed me more -than uncommonly; and this curious, soft delight I felt raging in the -depths of me--whence did it come? Whence, too, the depth and power of -other feelings that she roused in me, their reckless quality, their -certainty, the haunting pang and charm that her face, not even pretty -apart from its disfigurement, stirred in my inmost being? There was -mischief and disaster in her sea-green eyes, though neither mischief -nor disaster quite of this material world. - -I confessed--the first time for many years--to something moving beyond -ordinary. More and more I longed to learn of her first meeting with the -man she had married, and by what method he claimed to have recognised -in this servant girl the particular ancient soul he waited for, and -by what unerring instinct he had picked her out and set her upon so -curious a throne. - -I watched the velvet band about the well-shaped neck.... - - “_I have been here before, - But when or how I cannot tell: - I know the grass beyond the door, - The sweet keen smell, - The sighing sound, the lights around the shore._ - - “_You have been mine before, - How long ago I may not know: - But just when at that swallow’s soar - Your neck turned so ... - Some veil did fall--I knew it all of yore._” - -“And now,” she exclaimed, springing up and turning to her husband, “I’m -going to leave you and the Professor together to talk out all your old -things without me intervening! Besides I’ve got the bread to make,” she -added with a swift, gay smile in my direction, “that bread you called -delicious. I generally do it of a morning.” - -With a swinging motion of her lithe young body she was gone; the room -seemed strangely empty; the disfiguring marks upon her girlish face -were already forgotten; and a sense of companionship within me turned -somehow lonely and bereft. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - TO MEMORY - - “_Yet, when I would command thee hence, - Thou mockest at the vain pretence, - Murmuring in mine ear a song - Once loved, alas! forgotten long; - And on my brow I feel a kiss - That I would rather die than miss._”--Mary Coleridge. - - -“Well?” Julius asked me, as we strolled across the pastures that -skirted the main forest, “and does it seem anywhere familiar to -you--the three of us together again? You recall--how much?” A rather -wistful smile passed over his face, but the eyes were grave. He was in -earnest if ever man was. “She doesn’t seem wholly a stranger to you?” - -My mind searched carefully for words. To refer to any of my recent -impressions was difficult, even painful, and frank discussion of my -friend’s wife impossible--though, probably, there was nothing Julius -would not have understood and even welcomed. - -“I--cannot deny,” I began, “that somewhere--in my imagination, perhaps, -there seems----” - -He interrupted me at once. “Don’t suppress the imaginative -pictures--they’re memory. To deny them is only to forget again. Let -them come freely in you.” - -“Julius----!” I exclaimed, conscious that I flushed a little, “but she -is wonderful; superior, too, in some magnificent way to--any----” - -“Lady,” he came abruptly to my assistance, no vestige of annoyance -visible. - -“To anyone of our own class,” I completed the sentence more to my -liking. “I admit I feel drawn to her--in a kind of understanding -sympathy--though how can I pretend that I--that this sense of -familiarity is really memory?” It was impossible to treat him lightly; -his belief was his life, commanding a respect due to all great -convictions of the soul. “You have found someone you can love,” I went -on, aware that it gave me no pleasure to say it, “and someone who loves -you. I--am delighted.” - -He turned to me, standing hatless, the sunlight in his face, his eyes -fixed steadily upon my own. - -“We had to meet--all three,” he said slowly; “sooner or later. It’s -an old, old debt we’ve got to settle up together, and the opportunity -has come at last. I only ask your sympathy--and hers.” He shrugged his -shoulders slightly. “To you it may seem a small thing, and, if you have -no memory, a wild, impossible thing as well, even with delusion in it. -But nothing is really small.” He paused. “I only ask that you shall not -resist.” And then he added gravely: “The risk is mine.” - -I felt uneasiness; the old schooldays’ basis of complete sincerity was -not in me quite. I had lived too long in the world of ordinary men and -women. His marriage seemed prompted by an impersonal sense of justice -to the universe rather than by any desire for the companionship and -sweetness that a woman’s love could give him. For a moment I knew -not what to say. Could such a view be hers as well? Had she yielded -herself to him upon a similar understanding? And if not--the thought -afflicted me--might not this debt he spoke of have been discharged -without claiming the whole life of another in a union that involved -also physical ties? - -Yet, while I could not find it in me to utter all I thought, there was -a burning desire to hear details of the singular courtship. Almost I -felt the right to know, yet shrank from asking it. - -“Then nothing more definite stirs in you?” he asked quietly, his eyes -still holding mine, “no memory you can recognise? No wave of feeling; -no picture, even of that time when we--we three----” - -“Julius, old friend,” I exclaimed with sudden impulsiveness, and hardly -knowing why I said it, “it only seems to me that these pine woods -behind you are out of the picture rather. They should be palms, with -spaces of sand shimmering in a hot sun. And the châlet”--pointing -over his shoulder--“seems still less to belong to you when I recall -the temples we talked about before the plain where the worship of the -rising sun took place----” - -I broke off abruptly with a little shamefaced laughter: my invention, -or imagination, seemed so thin. But Julius turned eagerly, his face -alight. - -“Laugh as you please,” he said, “but what makes you feel me out of the -picture, as you call it, is memory--memory of where we three were last -together. That sense of incongruity is memory. Don’t resist. Let the -pictures rise and grow as they will. And don’t deny any instinctive -feelings that come to you--they’re memory too.” - -A moment of revolt swept over me, yet with it an emotion both sweet and -painful. Dread and delight both troubled me. Unless I resisted, his -great conviction would carry me away again as of old. And what if she -should come to aid him? What if she should bring the persuasion of her -personality to the attack, and with those eyes of mischief and disaster -ask me questions out of a similar conviction and belief? If she should -hold me face to face: “Do you remember me--_as I remember you?_” - -“Julius,” I cried, “let me speak plainly at once and so prevent -your disappointment later.” I forced the words out against my -will, it seemed. “For the truth, my dear fellow, is simply--that I -remember--nothing! Definitely--I remember nothing.” - -Yet there was pain and sadness in me suddenly. I had prevaricated. -Almost I had told a lie. Some vague fear of involving myself in -undesirable consequences had forced me against my innate knowledge. -Almost I had denied--her. - -From the forest stole forth a breath too soft and perfumed for an -autumn wind. It stirred the hair upon his forehead, left its touch of -dream upon my cheeks, then passed on to lift a wreath of mist in the -fields below. And, as though a spirit older than the wind moved among -my thoughts, this modern world seemed less real when it had gone. I -heard the voice of Julius answering me. His words came very slowly, -fastening upon my own. The resentment, the disappointment I had looked -for were not there, nor the comparison of myself--in her favour--I had -half anticipated. - -The answer utterly nonplussed me: - -“Neither does she remember--anything.” - -I started. A curious pang shot through me--something of regret, even of -melancholy in it. That she had forgotten “everything” was pain. She had -forgotten me. - -“But we--you, I mean--can make her?” - -The words were out impulsively before I could prevent them. He did not -look at me. I did not look at him. - -“I should have put it differently, perhaps,” he answered. “She is not -_aware_ that she remembers.” - -He drew me further along the dewy meadow towards the upper valley, and -drew me deeper, as it seemed, into his own strange region whence came -these perplexing statements. - -“But, Julius,” I stammered, seeing that he kept silence, “if she -remembers nothing--how could you know--how could you feel sure, when -you met her----?” - -My sentences stopped dead. Even in these unusual circumstances it was -not possible to question a friend about the woman he had married. -Had she proved some marvel of physical beauty or of intellectual -attainment, curiosity might have been taken as a compliment. But as it -was----! - -Yet all the time I _knew_ that her insignificant worldly value was a -clean stroke of proof that he had not suffered himself to be deceived -in this recovery and recognition of the spiritual maturity he meant by -the term “old soul.” His voice reached me, calm and normal as though -he talked about the weather. “I’ll tell you,” he said, “for it’s -interesting, and, besides, you have the right to know.” - -And the words fell among my tangled thoughts like deft fingers that -put confusion straight. The incredible story he told me as a child -might relate a fairy-tale it knows is true, yet thinks may not be quite -believed. Without the slightest emphasis, and certainly without the -least embarrassment or sense that it was unusual. Even of comedy I was -not properly once aware. All through the strange recital rang in my -mind, “She is not aware that she remembers.” - -“‘The Dardanelles,’” he began, smiling a little as though at the -recollection, “was where I met her, thus recovered. Not on the way from -Smyrna to Constantinople; oh, no! It was not romantic in that little -sense. ‘The Dardanelles’ was a small and ugly red-brick villa in Upper -Norwood, with a drive ten yards long, ragged laurel bushes, and a green -five-barred gate, gold-lettered. Maennlich lives there--the Semitic -language man and Egyptologist; you know. She was his parlour-maid at -the time, and before that had been lady’s-maid to the daughter of some -undistinguished duchess. In this way,” he laughed softly, “may old -souls wait upon the young ones sometimes! Her father,” he continued, -“was a market-gardener and fruiterer in a largish way at East Croydon, -and she herself had been brought up upon the farm whence his supplies -came. ‘Chance,’ as they call it, led her into these positions I have -mentioned, and so, inevitably--to me.” - -He looked up at me a moment. “And so to you as well.” - -His manner was composed and serious. He spoke with the simple -conviction of some Christian who traces the Hand of God in the smallest -details of his daily life, and seeks His guidance in his very train -journeys. There was something rather superb about it all. - -“A fruiterer in East Croydon! A maid in service! And--you knew--you -recognised her?” - -“At once. The very first day she let me in at the front door and asked -if I wished to see her master, what name she might announce, and so -forth.” - -“It was all--er--unexpected and sudden like that?” came the question -from a hundred others that crowded together in me. “To find a lost -friend of years only--in such a way--the shock, I mean, to you----!” I -simply could not find my words. He told it all so calmly, naturally. -“You were wholly unprepared, weren’t you? Nothing had led you to -expect?” I ended with a dash. - -“Not wholly unprepared,” was his rejoinder; “nor was the meeting -altogether unexpected--on my side, that is. Intimations, as I told -you at Motfield Close twenty years ago--when she was born--had come -to me. No soul draws breath for the first time, without a quiver of -response running through all that lives. Souls intimately connected -with each other may feel the summons. There are ways----! I knew that -she was once more in the world, that, like ourselves, her soul had -reincarnated; and ever since I have been searching----” - -“Searching----!” - -“There are clues that offer themselves--that come, perhaps in sleep, -perhaps by direct experiment, and, regardless of space, give hints----” - -“Psychometry?” I asked, remembering a word just coined. - -He shrugged his shoulders. “All objects radiate,” he said, “no -matter how old they are. Their radiation never ceases till they -are disintegrated; and if you are sensitive you can receive their -messages. If you have certain powers, due to relation and affinity, -you may interpret them. There is an instantaneous linking-up--in -picture-form--impossible to mistake.” - -“You knew, then, she was somewhere on the earth--waiting for you?” I -repeated, wondering what was coming next. That night in the Edinburgh -lodgings, when he had been “searching,” came back to me. - -“For _us_,” he corrected me. “It was something from a Private -Collection that gave me the clue by which I finally traced -her--something from the older sands.” - -“The sands! Egyptian?” - -Julius nodded. “Egypt, for all of us, was a comparatively recent -section--nearer to To-day, I mean. Many a time has each of us been -back there--Thebes, Memphis, even as lately ago as Alexandria at its -zenith, learning, developing, reaping what ages before we sowed--for -in Egypt the knowledge that was _our_ knowledge survived longer than -anywhere else. Yet never, unfortunately, returning together, and thus -never finding the opportunity to achieve the great purpose of our -meeting.” - -“But the clue?” I asked breathlessly. - -He smiled again at the eagerness that again betrayed me. - -“This old world,” he resumed quietly, “is strewn, of course, with the -remnants of what once has been our bodies--‘suits of clothes’ we have -inhabited, used, and cast aside. Here and there, from one chance or -another, some of these may have been actually preserved. The Egyptians, -for instance, went to considerable trouble to ensure that they should -survive as long as possible, thus assisting memory later.” - -“Embalming, you mean?” - -“As you wander through the corridors of a modern museum,” he continued -imperturbably, “you may even look through a glass covering at the very -tenement your soul has occupied at an earlier stage! Probably, of -course, without the faintest whisper of recognition, yet, possibly, -with just that acute and fascinated interest which _is_ the result -of stirring memory. For the ‘old clothes’ still radiate vibrations -that belong to _you;_ the dried blood and nerves once thrilled with -emotions, spiritual or otherwise, that were you--the link may be -recoverable. You think it is wild nonsense! I tell you it is in the -best sense scientific. And, similarly,” he added, “you may chance upon -some such remnant of another--the body of ancient friend or enemy.” -He paused abruptly in his extraordinary recital. “I had that good -fortune,” he added, “if you like to call it so.” - -“You found _hers?_” I asked in a low voice. “Her, I mean?” - -“Maennlich,” he replied with a smile, “has the best preserved mummies -in the world. He never allowed them even to be unwrapped. The object I -speak of--a body she had occupied in a recent Egyptian section--though -not when _we_ were there, unfortunately--lay in one of his glass cases, -while the soul who once had used it answered his bell and walked across -his carpets--two of her bodies in the house at once. Curious, wasn’t -it? A discarded instrument and the one in present use! The rest was -comparatively easy. I traced her whereabouts at once, for the clue -furnished the plainest possible directions. I went straight to her.” - -“And you knew instantly--when you saw her? You had no doubt?” - -“Instantly--when the door swung open and our eyes met on the threshold.” - -“Love at first sight, Julius, you mean? It was love you felt?” I asked -it beneath my breath, for my heart was beating strangely. - -He raised his eyebrows. “Love?” he repeated, questioningly. “Deep joy, -intuitive sympathy, content and satisfaction, rather. I knew her. I -knew _who_ she was. In a few minutes we were more intimate in mind and -feeling than souls who meet for the first time can become after years -of living together. You understand?” - -I lowered my eyes, not knowing what to say. The standards of modern -conduct, so strong about me, prevented the comments or questions that I -longed to utter. - -There flashed upon me in that instant’s pause a singular -conviction--that these two had mated for a reason of their own. -They had not known the clutch of elemental power by which Nature -ensures the continuance of the race. They had not shuddered, wept, -and known the awful ecstasy, but had slipped between her fingers and -escaped. They had not loved. While he knew this consciously, she was -aware of it unconsciously. They mated for another reason, yet one -as holy, as noble, as pure--if not more so, indeed--as those that -consecrate marriage in the accepted sense. And the thought, strange -as it was, brought a sweet pleasure to me, though shot with a pain -that was equally undeniable and equally perplexing. While my thoughts -floundered between curiosity, dismay and something elusive that yet -was more clamorous than either, Julius continued without a vestige of -embarrassment, though obviously omitting much detail that I burned to -hear. - -“And that very week--the next day, I think, it was--I asked Maennlich -to allow me an hour’s talk with her alone----” - -“She--er----?” - -“She liked me--from the very first, yes. She felt me.” - -“And showed it?” I asked bluntly. - -“And showed it,” he repeated, “although she said it puzzled her and she -couldn’t understand.” - -“On her side, then, it was love--love at first sight?” - -“Strong attraction,” he put it, “but an attraction she thought it her -duty to resist at first. Her present conditions made any relationship -between us seem incongruous, and when I offered marriage--as I did at -once--it overwhelmed her. She made sensible objections, but it was -her brain of To-day that made them. You can imagine how it went. She -urged that to marry a man in another class of life, a ‘gentleman,’ a -‘wealthy’ gentleman and an educated, ‘scholar gentleman,’ as she called -me, could only end in unhappiness--because I should tire of her. Yet, -all the time--she told me this afterwards--she had the feeling that we -were meant for one another, and that it must surely be. She was shy -about it as a child.” - -“And you convinced her in the end!” I said to myself rather than aloud -to him. There were feelings in me I could not disentangle. - -“Convinced her that we needed one another and could never go apart,” he -said. “We had something to fulfil together. The forces that drove us -together, though unintelligible to her, were yet acknowledged by her -too, you see.” - -“I see,” my voice murmured faintly, as he seemed to expect some word in -reply. “I see.” Then, after a longer pause than usual, I asked: “And -you told her of your--your theories and beliefs--the purpose you had to -do together?” - -“No single word. She could not possibly have understood. It would have -frightened her.” I heard it with relief, yet with resentment too. - -“Was that quite fair, do you think?” - -His answer I could not gainsay. “Cause and effect,” he said, “work out, -whether memory is there or not. To attempt to block fulfilment by fear -or shrinking is but to delay the very thing you need. I told her we -were necessary to each other, but that she must come willingly, or not -at all. I used no undue persuasion, and I used no force. I realised -plainly that her upper, modern, uncultured and uneducated self was -merely what she had acquired in the few years of her present life. It -was this upper self that hesitated and felt shy. The older self below -was not awake, yet urged her to acceptance blindly--as by irresistible -instinctive choice. She knew subconsciously; but, once I could succeed -in arousing her knowledge consciously, I knew her doubts would vanish. -I suggested living away from city life, away from any conditions -that might cause her annoyance or discomfort due to what she called -our respective ‘stations’ in life; I suggested the mountains, some -beautiful valley perhaps, where in solitude for a time we could get to -know each other better, untroubled by the outer world--until she became -accustomed----” - -“And she approved?” I interrupted with impatience. - -“Her words were ‘That’s the very thing; I’ve always had a dream like -that.’ She agreed with enthusiasm, and the opposition melted away. She -knew the kind of place we needed,” he added significantly. - -We had reached the head of the valley by this time, and I sat down upon -a boulder with the sweep of Jura forests below us like a purple carpet. -The sun and shadow splashed it everywhere with softest colouring. The -morning wind was fresh; birds were singing; this green vale among the -mountains seemed some undiscovered paradise. - -“And you have never since felt a moment’s doubt--uncertainty--that she -really is this ‘soul’ you knew before?” - -He lay back, his head upon his folded hands, and his eyes fixed upon -the blue dome of sky. - -“A hundred proofs come to me all the time,” he said, stretching himself -at full length upon the grass. “And in her atmosphere, in her presence, -the memories still revive in detail from day to day--just as at school -they revived in you--those pictures you sought to stifle and deny. From -the first she never doubted me. She was aware of a great tie and bond -between us. ‘You’re the only man,’ she said to me afterwards, ‘that -could have done it like that. I belonged to you--oh! I can’t make it -out--but just as if there wasn’t any getting out of it possible. I felt -stunned when I saw you. I had always felt something like this coming, -but thought it was a dream.’ Only she often said there was something -else to come as well, and that we were not quite complete. She knew, -you see; she knew.” He broke off suddenly and turned to look at me. He -added in a lower tone, as he watched my face: “And you see how pleased -and happy she is to have _you_ here!” - -I made no reply. I reached out for a stone and flung it headlong down -the steep slope towards the stream five hundred feet below. - -“And so it was settled then and there?” I asked, after a pause that -Julius seemed inclined to prolong. - -“Then and there,” he said, watching the rolling stone with dreamy -eyes. “In the hall-way of that Norwood villa, under the very eyes of -Maennlich who paid her wages and probably often scolded her, she came -up into my arms at the end of our final talk, and kissed me like a -happy child. She cried a good deal at the time, but I have never once -seen her cry since!” - -“And it’s all gone well--these months?” I murmured. - -“There was a temporary reaction at first--at the very first, that is,” -he said, “and I had to call in Maennlich to convince her that I was -in earnest. At her bidding I did that. Some instinct told her that -Maennlich ought to see it--perhaps, because it would save her awkward -and difficult explanations afterwards. There’s the woman in her, you -see, the normal, wholesome woman, sweet and timid.” - -“A fascinating personality,” I murmured quickly, lest I might say other -things--before their time. - -“No looks, no worldly beauty,” he nodded, “but the unconscious charm of -the old soul. It’s unmistakable.” - -Worlds and worlds I would have given to have been present at that -interview; Julius LeVallon, so unusual and distinguished; the shy -and puzzled serving-maid, happy and incredulous; the grey-bearded -archæologist and scholar; the strange embarrassment of this amazing -proposal of marriage! - -“And Maennlich?” I asked, anxious for more detail. - -Julius burst out laughing. “Maennlich lives in his own world with his -specimens and theories and memories of travel--more recent memories of -travel than our own! It hardly interested him for more than a passing -moment. He regarded it, I think, as an unnecessary interruption--and a -bothering one--some joke he couldn’t quite appreciate or understand. -He pulled his dirty beard, patted me on the back as though I were -a boy running after some theatre girl, and remarked with a bored -facetiousness that he could give her a year’s character with a clear -conscience and great pleasure. Something like that it was; I forget -exactly. Then he went back to his library, shouting through the door -some appointment about a Geographical Society meeting for the following -week. For how could he know”--his voice grew softer as he said it and -his laughter ceased--“how could he divine, that old literal-minded -savant, that he stood before a sign-post along the route to the eternal -things _we_ seek, or that my marrying his servant was a step towards -something we three owe together to the universe itself?” - -It was some time before either of us spoke, and when at length I broke -the silence it was to express surprise that a woman, so long ripened -by the pursuit of spiritual, or at least exalted aims, should have -returned to earth among the lowly. By rights, it seemed, she should -have reincarnated among the great ones of the world. I knew I could -say this now without offence. - -“The humble,” Julius answered simply, “_are_ the great ones.” - -His fingers played with the fronds of a piece of staghorn moss as -he said it, and to this day I cannot see this kind of moss without -remembering his strange words. - -“It’s among what men call the lower ranks that the old souls return,” -he went on; “among peasants and simple folk, unambitious and heedless -of material power, you always find the highest ones. They are there to -learn the final lessons of service or denial, neglected in their busier -and earlier--kindergarten sections. The last stages are invariably -in humble service--they are by far the most difficult; no young, -‘ambitious’ soul could manage it. But the old souls, having already -mastered all the more obvious lessons, are content.” - -“Then the oldest souls are not the great minds and great characters of -history?” I exclaimed. - -“Not necessarily,” he answered; “probably never. The most advanced are -unadvertised, in the least assuming positions. The Kingdom of Heaven -belongs to them, hard of attainment by those the world applauds. The -successful, so called, are the younger, cruder souls, passionately -acquiring still the external prizes men hold so dear. Maturer souls -have long since discarded these as worthless. The qualities the world -crowns are great, perhaps, at that particular stage, but they never -are the highest. Intellect, remember, is not of the soul, and all that -reason teaches must be unlearned again. Theories change, knowledge -shifts, facts are forgotten or proved false; only what the soul itself -acquires remains eternally the same. The old are the intuitional; and -the oldest of all--ah! how wonderful!--He who came back from loftier -heights than most of us can yet even conceive of, was the--son of a -carpenter.” - -I left my seat upon the boulder and lay beside him, listening for a -long time while he talked, and if there was much that seemed visionary, -there was also much that thrilled me with emotions beyond ordinary. -Nothing, certainly, was foolish--because of the man who said it. -And, while he took it for granted that all Nature was alive and a -manifestation of spiritual powers, the elements themselves but forces -to be mastered and acquired, it grew upon me that I had indeed entered -an enchanted valley where, with my strange companions, I might witness -new, incredible things. Finding little to reply, I was content to -listen, wondering what was coming next. And in due course the talk came -round again to ourselves, and so to the woman who was now his wife. - -“Then she has no idea,” I said at length, “that we three--you and I and -she--have been together before, or that there is any particular purpose -in my being here at this moment?” - -“In her normal condition--none,” he answered. “For she has no memory.” - -“There is a state, however, when she does remember?” I asked. “You have -helped her to remember? Is that it, Julius?” - -“Yes,” he replied; “I have reached down and touched her soul, so that -she remembers for herself.” - -“The deep trance state?” - -“Where all the memories of the past lie accumulated,” he answered, -“the subconscious state. Her Self of To-day--with new body and recent -brain--she has forgotten; in trance--the subconscious Self where the -soul dwells with all its past--she remembers.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - “_Proof of the reality of a personal sovereign of the universe - will not be obtained. But proof of the reality of a power or - powers, not unworthy of the title of gods_, in respect of our - corner of the cosmos, _may be feasible_.”--“The Individual and - Reality” (E. D. Fawcett). - - -I shrank. Certain memories of our Edinburgh days revived unpleasantly. -They seemed to have happened yesterday instead of years ago. A shadowy -hand from those distant skies he spoke of, from those dim avenues of -thickly written Time, reached down and touched my heart, leaving the -chill of an indescribable uneasiness. The change in me since my arrival -only a few hours before was too rapid not to bring reaction. Yet on the -whole the older, deeper consciousness gained power. - -Possibilities my imagination had unwisely played with now seemed -stealing slowly toward probabilities. I felt as a man might feel who, -having never known fire, and disbelieved in its existence, becomes -aware of the warmth of its approach--a strange and revolutionary -discomfort. For Julius was winning me back into his world again, and -not with mere imaginative, half-playful acceptance, but with practical -action and belief. Yet the change in me was somehow welcome. No feeling -of resentment kept it in check, and certainly neither scorn nor -ridicule. Incredulity glanced invitingly at faith. They would presently -shake hands. - -I made, perhaps, an effort to hold back, to define the position, _my_ -position, at any rate. - -“Julius,” I said gravely, yet with a sympathy I could not quite -conceal, “as boys together, and even later at the University, we talked -of various curious things, remarkable, even amazing things. You even -showed me certain extraordinary things which, at the time, convinced -me possibly. I ought to tell you now--and before we go any further, -since you take it for granted that my feelings and--er--beliefs are -still the same as yours--that I can no longer subscribe to all the -articles of your wild conviction. I have been living in the world, -you see, these many years, and--well, my imagination has collapsed -or dried up or whatever you like to call it. I don’t really see, or -remember--anything--quite in the way _you_ mean----” - -“The ‘world’ has smothered it--temporarily,” he put in gently. - -“And what is more,” I continued, ignoring his interruption, “I must -confess that I have no stomach now for any ‘great experiment’ such as -you think our coming together in this valley must involve. Your idea -of reincarnation may be true--why not? It’s a most logical conception. -And we three may have been together before--granted! I admit I rather -like the notion. It may even be conceivable that the elemental powers -of Nature are intelligent, that men and women could use them to their -advantage, and that worship and feeling-with is the means to acquire -them--it’s just as likely as that some day we shall send telegrams -without wires, thoughts and pictures too!” - -I drew breath a moment, while he waited patiently, linking his arm in -mine and listening silently. - -“It may even be possible, too,” I went on, finding some boyish relief -in all these words, “that we three together in earlier days _did_--in -some kind of primitive Nature Worship--make wrong use of an unconscious -human body to evoke those particular Powers you say exist behind -Wind and Fire, and that, having thus upset the balance of material -forces, we must readjust that balance or suffer accordingly--_you_ in -particular, since you were the prime mover----” - -“How well you state it,” he murmured. “How excellent your memory is -after all.” - -“But even so,” I continued, nettled by his calm interpretation of my -long and plodding objection, “and even if all you claim is true--I--I -mean bluntly--that the transitory acceptance you woke in me years -ago no longer holds. I am with you now merely to keep a promise, a -boy’s promise, but my heart is no longer in the matter--except out of -curiosity--curiosity pure and simple.” - -I stopped, or rather it was his face and the expression in his eyes -that stopped me. I felt convicted of somewhat pompous foolishness, my -sense of humour and proportion gone awry. Fear, with its ludicrous -inhibitions, made me strut in this portentous fashion. His face, -wearing the child’s expression of belief and confidence, arrested me by -its sheer simplicity. But the directness of his rejoinder, however--of -his words, at least, for it was not a reply--struck me dumb. - -“You are afraid for _her_,” he said without a trace of embarrassment or -emotion, “because you love her still, even as she loves you--beneath.” - -If unconsciously or consciously I avoided his eye, he made no attempt -to avoid my own. He looked calmly at me like some uncannily clairvoyant -lawyer who has pierced the elaborate evasions of his cross-examined -witness--yet a witness who believed in his own excuses, quite honestly -self-deceived. - -At first the shock of his words deprived me of any power to think. I -was not offended, I was simply speechless. He forgot who I was and -what my life had been, forgot my relation with himself, forgot also -the brevity of my acquaintance with his wife. He forgot, too, that -I had accepted her, an inferior woman, accepted her without a hint -of regret--nay, let me use the word I mean--of contempt that he, my -friend, had linked his life with such a being--married her. And, -further, he forgot all that was due to himself, to me, to _her!_ It was -too distressing. What could he possibly think of me, of himself, of -her, that so outrageous a statement, and without a shred of evidence, -could pass his lips? I, a middle-aged professor of geology, with an -established position in the world! And she, a parlour-maid he had been -wild enough to marry for the sake of some imagined dream, a woman, -moreover, I had seen for the first time a short hour before, and with -whom I had exchanged a few sentences in bare politeness, remembering -that this uneducated creature was the wife of my old friend, and----! - -Thought galloped on in indignant disorder and agitation. The pretence -was so apparent even to myself. But I remained speechless. For while -he spoke, looking me calmly in the eye, without a sign of _arrière -pensée_, I realised in a flash--that it all was true. Like the witness -who still believes in his indignant answers until the lawyer puts -questions that confound him by unexpected self-revelation--I suddenly -saw--myself. My own heart opened in a blaze of fire. It was the truth. - -And all this came upon me, not in a flash, but in a series of flashes. -I had not known it. I now discovered myself, but for the first time. -Layer after layer dropped away. The naked fact shone clearly. - -“It is exactly what I hoped,” he went on quietly. “It proves memory -beyond all further doubt. A love like yours and hers can never die. -Even another thirty thousand years could make no difference--the -instant you met you would be bound to take it up again--exactly where -you left it off--no matter how long the interval of separation. The -first sign would be this divine and natural intimacy.” - -“Of course.” - -How I said it passes my understanding. I swear my lips moved without -my mind’s consent. The words slipped out. I couldn’t help myself. The -same instant some words he had used in our Edinburgh days came back to -me: that human love was somehow necessary to him, since love was the -greatest power in the world, the supreme example of “feeling-with.” -Without its aid--that majestic confidence it brings--his great -experiment must be impossible and fail. That union which is love was -necessary. - -I felt an extraordinary exultation, an extraordinary tumult of delight, -and--a degrading flush of shame. I felt myself blushing under his -quiet gaze while the blood rushed over neck and cheeks and forehead. -Both guilty and innocent I felt. The very sun and trees, it seemed, -witnessed my nakedness. I stumbled as I moved beside my friend, and it -was my friend who caught my arm and steadied me. - -“Good God, Julius,” I remember stammering, “but what in the name of -heaven are you saying?” - -“The truth,” he answered, smiling. “And do not for a moment think of -me as unnatural or a monster. For this is all inevitable and right and -good. It means our opportunity has come at last. It also means that you -have not failed me.” - -I was glad he went on talking. I am a fool, I know it. I am -weak, susceptible and easily influenced. I have no claim to any -strength of character, nor ever had. But, without priggishness or -self-righteousness, I can affirm that hitherto I have never done -another man deliberate, conscious injury, or wronged a personal -friend--never in all my days. I can say that, and for the satisfaction -of my conscience I did say it, and kept on saying it in my thought -while listening to the next words that Julius uttered there beside me. - -“And so, quite naturally, from your point of view,” he pursued, “you -are afraid for _her_. I am delighted; for it proves again the strength -of the ineradicable, ancient tie. My union, remember, is not, properly -speaking, love; it is the call of sympathy, of friendship, of something -that we have to do together, of a claim that has the drive of all the -universe behind it. And if I have felt it wise and right and necessary -to”--he must have felt the shudder down the arm he held, for he said -it softly, even tenderly--“give to her a child, it is because her -entire nature needs it, and maternity is the woman’s first and ultimate -demand of her present stage in life. Without it she is never quite -complete....” - -“A child!” - -“A child,” he repeated firmly but with a kind of reverent gravity, “for -otherwise her deepest functions are not exercised and----” - -“And?” I asked, noticing the slight pause he made. - -“The soul--her complete and highest self--never takes full possession -of her body. It hovers outside. She misses the full, entire object of -her reincarnation. The child, you see, was necessary--for her sake as -well as for my own--for ours.” - -Thought, speech and action--all three stood still in me. I stopped in -my walk, half paralysed. I remember we sat down. - -“And she,” I said at length, “knows nothing--of all this?” - -“She,” he replied, “knows everything, and is content. Her mind and -brain of To-day may remain unaware; but _she_--the soul now fully in -her--knows all, and is content, as you shall see. She has her debt to -pay as well as myself--and you.” - -For a long time we sat there silent in that sweet September sunshine. -The birds sang round us, the rivulet went murmuring, the branches -sighed and rustled just behind us, as though no problems vexed their -safe, unconscious lives. Yet to me just then they all seemed somehow to -participate in this complex plot of human emotion. Nature herself in -some deep fashion was involved. - -No man, I realised, knows himself, nor understands the acts of which -he is potentially capable, until certain conditions bring them out. We -imagine we know exactly how we should act in given circumstances--until -those circumstances actually arrive and dislocate all our preconceived -decisions. For the “given circumstances” produce emotions before whose -stress--not realised when the decisions were so lightly made--we act -quite otherwise. I could have sworn, for instance, that in a case like -this--incredible though its ever happening must have seemed--I should -then and there have taken my departure. I should have left. I would -have gone without a moment’s hesitation, and let him follow his own -devices without my further assistance at any rate. I would have been -furious with anyone who dared to state the contrary. - -Yet it was exactly the opposite I did. The first instinct to clear out -of this outrageous situation--proved impossible. It was not for her -I remained; it was equally not for him; and it was assuredly not for -myself in any meaning of the words. But yet I stayed. I could no more -have gone away than I could have--made love to her before his eyes, -or even not before his eyes. I argued, reasoned, moralised--but I -stayed. It was over very soon--what there was of doubt and hesitation. -While we sat there side by side upon that sunny mountain slope, I -came to the clear decision that I could not go. But why, or how, I -stayed is something beyond my powers to explain. Perhaps, _au fond_, -it was because I believed in Julius LeVallon--believed, that is, in -his innate uprightness and rectitude and nobility of soul. It was all -beyond me. I could not understand. But--I had this strange belief in -him. My relationship with her was, and would remain on both sides, a -subconscious one--a memory. There would be no betrayal anywhere. I -resolved to see it through. - -“I ask nothing but your presence,” I heard him saying presently; “if -not actively sympathetic, at least not actively hostile. It is the sum -of forces you bring with you that I need. They are in your atmosphere, -whether expressed or merely latent. You are _you_.” He watched me as -he said this. “I failed once before, you remember,” he added, “because -_she_ was absent. Your desertion now would render success again -impossible.” - -He took my hand in his. A tender, even beseeching note crept into his -deep voice. “Help me,” he concluded, “if you will. You bring your -entire past with you, though you know it not. It is that Past that our -reconstruction needs.” - -A wind from the south, I remember, blew the firs behind us into low, -faint sighing, and with the exquisite sound there stole a mingled joy -and yearning on my soul. Perhaps some flower of memory in that moment -yielded up its once familiar perfume, dim, ancient, yet not entirely -forgotten. The sighing of the forest wafted it from other times and -other places. Wonder and beauty touched me; I knew longing, but a -longing so acutely poignant that it seemed not of this little earth -at all. A fragrance and power of other stars, I could have sworn, -lay in it. The pang of some long, long sweetness made me tremble. An -immense ideal rose and beckoned with that whispering wind among the -Jura pine woods, and a grandeur, remote but of ineffable sweetness, -stirred through the undergrowths of a half-claimed, half-recognised -consciousness within me. - -I was aware of this incalculable emotion. Ancient yearnings seemed on -the verge of coaxing loved memories into the light of day. I burned, -I trembled, I suffered atrociously, yet with a rush of blind delight -never before realised by me on earth. Then, suddenly, and wholly -without warning, the desire for tears came over me in a flood.... -Control _was_ possible, but left no margin over. Somehow I managed -it, so that no visible sign of this acute and extraordinary collapse -should appear. It seemed, for a moment, that the frame of my modern -personality was breaking down under the stress of new powers unleashed -by my meeting with these two in this enchanted valley. Almost, another -order of consciousness supervened ... then passed without being quite -accomplished.... I heard the singing of the trees in the low south wind -again. I saw the clouds sailing across the blue foreign sky. I saw -_his_ eyes upon me like twin flames. With the greatest difficulty I -found speech possible in that moment. - -“I can promise, at least, that I will not be hostile. I can promise -that,” I said in a low and faltering tone. - -He made no direct reply; least of all did it occur to him to thank -me. The storm that had shaken me had apparently not touched him. His -tone was quiet and normal as he continued speaking, though its depth -and power, with that steady drive of absolute conviction behind, could -never leave it quite an ordinary voice. - -“She, as I told you, knows nothing in her surface mind,” I heard. -“Beyond occasional uprushes of memory that have come to her lately -in dreams--she tells them naïvely, confusedly in the morning -sometimes--she is aware of no more than a feeling of deep content, and -that our union is right in the sense of being inevitable. Her pleasure -that you have come is obvious. And more,” he added, “I do not wish the -older memories to break through yet, for that might wake pain or terror -in her and, therefore, unconscious opposition.” - -He touched my arm a moment, looking at me with a significant -expression. It was a suggestive thing he said: “For human -consciousness is different at different periods, remember, and ages -remotely separated cannot understand each other. Their points of -view, their modes of consciousness, are too different. In _her_ -deeper state--separated by so huge an interval from the nineteenth -century--with its origin long before we came to live upon this little -earth--she would not, could not understand. There would be no sympathy; -there might be terror; there must certainly be failure.” - -I murmured something or other, heaven alone knows what it was. - -“What we think fine and wonderful may then have seemed the crudest -folly, superstition, wickedness--and vice versa. Look at the few -thousand years of history we have--and you’ll see the truth of this. We -cannot grasp how certain periods could possibly have done the things -they did.” He paused, then added in a lower tone, more to himself -than to me: “So with what we have to do now--though exceptional, -utterly exceptional--it is a remnant that we owe to Nature--to the -universe--and we must see it through....” His voice died away. - -“I understand,” my voice dropped into the open pause he left. - -“Though you neither believe nor welcome,” he replied. - -“My promise,” I said quietly, “holds good. Also”--I blushed and -half-stammered over the conventional words--“I will do nothing that can -cause possible offence--to anyone.” - -The hand that rested on my arm tightened its grasp a little. He made no -other sign. It was remarkable how the topic that must have separated -two other men--any two other men in the world, I suppose--had been -subtracted from our relationship, laid aside as dealt with and -admitted, calling for no further mention even. It all seemed, in some -strange way, impersonal almost--another attitude to life--a faint sign, -it may well have been, of that older mode of consciousness he spoke -about. - -I hardly recognised myself, so complete was the change in me, and so -swiftly going forward. This dragnet from the Past drew ever closer. -If the mind in me resisted still, it seemed rather from some natural -momentum acquired by habit, than from any spontaneous activity due to -the present. The modern, upper self surrendered. - -“How soon?” was the question that seemed to come of its own accord; it -was certainly not my confused and shaken mind that asked it. “When do -you propose to----” - -He answered without a sign of hesitation. “The Autumnal Equinox. You’ve -forgotten _that_,” he added as though he justified my lack of memory -here, “for all the world has forgotten it too--the science of Times and -Seasons--the oldest known to man. It was true cosmic knowledge, but so -long ago that it has left our modern consciousness as though it never -had existed even.” - -He stopped abruptly. I think he desired me to discover for myself, -unguided, unhampered by explanation. And, at the words, something -remote and beautiful did stir, indeed, within me. A curtain drew -aside.... - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -Some remnant of ghostly knowledge quickened. Behind the mind and brain, -in that region, perhaps, where thought ceases and intuition offers -her amazing pageant, there stirred--reality. Times and seasons, I -seemed to realise, have spiritual importance; there is a meaning in -months and hours; if noon is different from six o’clock, what happens -at noon varies in import from what happens at six o’clock, although -the happening itself at both moments be identical. An event holds its -minimum or its maximum of meaning according to the moment when it -happens. Its effectiveness varies with the context. - -Power is poured out, or power is kept back. To ask a man for energetic -action when he is falling asleep is to court refusal; to expect life of -him when he is overflowing with vitality and joy is probably to obtain -it. The hand is stretched out to give, or the hand is withheld. - -With the natural forces of the earth--it now dawned upon me--the method -was precisely similar. Nature and human-nature reacted differently -at different moments. At the moment of equilibrium called “equinox,” -there was a state of balance so perfect that this balance could be most -easily, most naturally--transcended. - -And objects in the outer world around me changed. Their meaning, -ordinarily superficial, appeared of incalculable significance. The -innate activities of Nature, the elements, I realised indeed as -modes of life; the communication Julius foreshadowed, a possible and -_natural_ thing. - -Someone, I believe, was speaking of these and similar things--words -came floating on the wind, it seemed--yet with meanings so remote -from all that my mind of To-day deemed possible, that I scarcely knew -whether it was the voice of my companion speaking, or a voice of -another kind, whispering in my very blood. - -In Bâle a week ago, or in London six weeks ago, such theories would -have left me cold. Now, at this particular juncture, they came with a -solemn beauty I can only account for by the fact that I had changed -into almost another being. My mind seemed ready for anything and -everything. No modern creeds and dogmas could confine my imagination.... - -I had entered a different cycle of operation. I felt these ideas -all-over-me. The brain might repeat insistently “this is false, -this is superstition”; but something bigger than reason steadily -overrode the criticism. My point of view had changed. In some new way, -strangely exciting, I saw everything at once. My entire Self became the -percipient, rather than my five separate senses. In Nature all around -me another language uttered. It was the cosmic sense that stirred and -woke. It was another mode of consciousness. - -We three, it came upon me, were acting out some omitted detail of a -great world-purpose. The fact that _she_ forgot, that I was ignorant, -that Julius LeVallon seemed guilty of unmoral things--these were but -ripples upon the deep tide that bore us forward. We were uttering a -great sentence we had left unfinished. I knew not exactly what was -coming, only that we had begun its utterance ages before the present, -and probably upon a planet nearer to the sun than our younger earth. -The verb had not yet made its appearance in this sentence, but it would -presently appear and explain the series of acts, and, meanwhile, I -must go on acting and wondering what it all could mean. I thought of -a language that first utters the nouns and adjectives, then adds the -verb at the end, explaining the whole series of unmeaning sounds. Our -“experiment” was the verb. - -Then came the voice of Julius suddenly: - -“Fate is the true complement of yourself; it completes your nature. By -doing it, you become one with your surroundings. Note attitude and -gesture--of yourself and of everything. They are signs. Our attitudes -must coincide with that of the earth to the heavens--possible only -at the Equinox. We must feel with her. We then act with her. Do not -resist. Let this valley say to you what it will. Regard it, and regard -our life here at the moment, as a symbol, clothed in a whole story of -information, the story varying with every hour of the day and with the -slightest change of the earth in relation to the universe.” - -It seemed I watched the track of some unknown animal upon the ground, -and tried to reconstruct the entire creature. Such imprint is but a -trace of the invisible being that has made it. All about this valley -there were tracks offering a hint of Beings that had left them--that -any moment might reveal themselves. Julius talked on in his calm and -unimpassioned way. I both understood and could not understand. I -realised that there is a language for the mind, but no language for the -spirit. There are no words in which to express big cosmic meanings. -Action--a three-dimensional language--alone could be their vehicle. -The knowledge must be performed--acted out in ceremony. Comprehension -filtered into me, though how I cannot say. - -“Symbols are merely the clues,” he went on. “It is a question of -stimulating your own imagination. Into the images created by your own -activities the meaning flows. You must play with them and let them play -with you. They depend for their meaning on history and happenings, -and vary according to their setting--the time of day or night, the -season of the year, the year itself, the exact relation of your Self -to every other Self, human _or otherwise_, in the universe. Let your -life and activities now arrange themselves in such a way that they -shall demonstrate the workings of the elemental powers you feel about -you. Every automatic activity of your body, every physiological process -in you, links you on to this great elemental side of things. Be open -now to the language of action. Think of the motion of all objects -here as connected with the language of symbols, a living, ever-moving -language, and do not allow your mind to mutilate the moods that come -upon you. Let your nerves, if they will, come into contact with the -Nature Powers, and so realise that the three kingdoms are alive. Watch -your own automatic activities--I mean what you do unconsciously without -deliberate thinking. For what you do consciously you are learning, -but what you do unconsciously you have learned before. We have to -_become_ the performance by acting it--instantaneous understanding. -All such attitudes are language, and the power to read it comes from a -synthetical, intuitive feeling of the entire being. The heart may get -one letter only, but that letter is a clue, an omen. A moth flies into -the room and everything immediately looks different; it remains the -same, yet means something different. It’s like the vowel in the ancient -languages--put in later, according to the meaning. You have, I know, -forgotten”--he paused a moment and put his hand on my shoulder--“but -every wind that blows across our valley here, and every change in -temperature that lowers or raises the heat and fire of your own -particular system”--he looked at me with a power in bearing and gesture -impossible to describe--“is a sign and hint of whether----” - -He stopped, glancing suddenly down the steep grass slopes. A breeze -stirred the hair upon his forehead. It brushed my eyes and cheeks as -well. I felt as though a hand had touched me as it passed invisibly. -A momentary sensation of energy, of greater life swept over me, then -disappeared as though the wind had borne it off. - -“Of whether your experiment will be successful?” I broke in. - -Turning his eyes from the sunny valley to my face again, he said slowly: - -“These Powers can only respond to the language they understand. My -deliverance must be experienced, acted out.” - -“A ceremony?” I asked, wondering uneasily what “acts of language” he -might demand of me and of another. - -“To restore them finally--where they rightfully belong,” he answered, -“I must become them. There is no other way.” - -How little intelligible result issued from this conversation must -be apparent from the confused report here given, yet that something -deep and true was in _his_ mind lay beyond all question. At the back -of my own, whence no satisfactory sentences could draw it out into -clean description, floated this idea that the three of us were already -acting out some vast, strange ceremonial in which Nature, indeed the -very earth and heavens themselves, were acting with us. There was this -co-operation, this deep alliance. The “experiment” we approached would -reveal itself in natural happenings and circumstances. Action was to -take the place of words, conveying meaning as speech or handwriting -conveys a message. The attitude of ourselves, the very grouping of -inanimate objects, of trees and hills, the effects of light and shade, -the moods of day and night, above all, the time and season of the year -which is nothing but the attitude of the earth towards the rest of the -universe--all these, as modes of intelligent expression, would belong -to the strange performance. They were the conscious gestures of the -universe. If I could _feel-with_ them, interpretation would be mine. - -And, that I understood even this proved memory. “You will gradually -become conscious,” he said, “of various signs about you. Analyse these -signs. But analyse them with a view to creating language. For language -does not create ideas; Ideas become language. Put the vowels in. When -communication begins to be established, the inanimate world here will -talk to you as in the fairy tales--seem alive. Play with it, as you -play with symbols in algebra before you rise to the higher mathematics. -So, notice and think about anything that”--he emphasised the verb -significantly--“_draws_ your attention. Do not point out at the moment; -that’s compulsion and rouses opposition; just be aware and accept by -noticing. And do not concentrate too much; what flows in must also -be able to flow out; otherwise there comes congestion, and so--fear. -In this valley the channels all are open, and wonder everywhere. The -more you wonder, the more your memory will come back and consciousness -extend. Great language has no words. The only way to grow in -consciousness is to be for ever changing your ideas and point of view. -Accept Nature here. Feel like a tree and then like a star. Be violent -with wind, and burn with fire. These things are forgotten To-day -because Wonder has left the world--and with it worship. So do not be -ashamed to wonder at anything you notice. It all lies in you--I know -that--and here it will rise to the surface.” He laughed. “If a woman,” -he went on, “wears embroidered lilies on her dress, all London seems -full of flower-sellers. They were there before, but she had nothing in -herself to make her conscious of them. Notice all the little things, -for you are a portion of the universe as much as Sirius or Vega, and -in living relation with every other atom. You can share Nature, and -here in our secret valley you may welcome her without alarm. The cosmic -organism, denied by civilisation, survives in you as it survives also -in myself and in--my wife. Through that, and through that alone, is the -experiment possible to us.” - -And it flashed into me that my visit to this enchanted valley would -witness no concentrated, miniature “ceremonial,” reduced in form for -worship as in a church or temple, but that all we did and experienced -in the course of normal, every-day life would mark the outlines of this -vast performance. Understanding would come that way. - -And then the mention of his “wife” brought me sharply back to emotions -of--another kind. My thought leaped back again--by what steps I cannot -say, it seemed so disconnected with what had just occupied my mind--to -his statement of ten minutes before. - -“By becoming them,” I asked, “you mean that you must feel-with wind and -fire to the point of being them?” - -“You think this might be done alone, without your help or hers?” he -asked, picking the thought straight out of my mind. “But only a group -could have done what we did--a group, moreover, in perfect sympathy. -For as love between the three of us was essential to success then, so -is love between us essential now. A group, combined by love into a -unit, exerts a power impossible to an individual. The secret of our -power lies in that--ideal love and perfect sympathy.” - -I listened, sure of one thing only--that I would keep an open mind. -To deny, object, criticise, above all to ridicule would rob me of an -experience. I believe honestly this was my attitude: to miss no value -that might be in it by assuming it was nonsense merely because it -was so strange. Apart from the curious fact that something in me was -sympathetic to a whole world of deep ideas behind his language, I felt -the determined desire to see the matter through. There was no creed or -religious dogma in me to offend. I made myself receptive. For, out of -this singular exposition the conviction grew that I was entering almost -a new order of existence, and that an earlier mode of consciousness -revived. - -In this lonely valley, untouched by the currents of modern thought -and feeling, companioned by Julius LeVallon and that old, recovered -soul, his wife, the conditions of our previous existence together -perhaps re-formed themselves. Behind his talk came ideas that wore an -aspect of familiarity, although my present brain, try as it might, -failed to mould them into any acceptable form. The increasing change -in myself was certainly significant. The crumbling of old shibboleths -continued. A relationship between my inner nature and the valley seemed -established in some way that was new, yet not entirely forgotten. The -very sunlight and the wind assisted. Closer to the natural things I -felt, the earth not alien to me.... - -We had neared the châlet again. I saw the peat smoke rising against -the background of the ridges. The “man” was whistling at his work in -the yard behind the building. The column of smoke, I remember, was -agitated by the wind towards the top; it turned, blew downwards. No -other sign of movement was anywhere visible, for in the bottom of the -hollow where we now stood, the wind did not even stir the isolated -larches or tall yellow gentians. Sunshine flooded everything. Out -of this peace and stillness then came a sudden cry and the sight of -something moving rapidly--both from the châlet. - -“Julius!” called a shrill voice, as the figure of Mrs. LeVallon, with -flying hair and skirts, came running over the meadow towards us. -“Julius!--Professor! Quick!” - -The voice and figure startled me; both came, it seemed, out of some -other place; a picture from my youth rose up--a larch grove in October -upon the Pentland Hills. I experienced a sense of deep and thrilling -beauty similar to what I had felt then. But as I watched the slim, -hurrying figure I was aware of another thing that left me breathless: -For with her, as she passed through chequered sun and shadow along -the fringe of forest, there moved something else enormously larger -than herself. It was in the air about her. Like that strange Pentland -memory, it whirled. It was formless, and owing to its huge proportions -gave the impression of moving slowly, yet its very formlessness was -singularly impressive and alive, so that the word “body” sprang -instantly into my mind. Actually it moved at a tremendous speed. - -In my first confusion and bewilderment I remember saying aloud in sheer -amazement: “a fragment of the day has broken off; it’s clothed in wind -and sunlight!” - -A phrase quite meaningless, of course, yet somehow accurately -descriptive, for it appealed to me as a fragment of conditionless, -universal activity that had seized upon available common elements to -furnish itself a visible appearance. I got the astounding suggestion -that it was heat and air moving under intelligent and conscious -direction. Combined with its airy lightness there was power, for in -its brief, indeed its instantaneous, appearance I felt persuaded of an -irresistible strength that no barrier of solid matter could possibly -withstand. At the same time it was transparent, for I saw the trees -upon its further side. It passed ahead of the human figure, so close it -seemed to touch her dress, rose with a kind of swift, driving plunge -into the air, slipped meltingly into the clean blue colour of the -atmosphere--and disappeared. - -And so swift was the entire presentment of the thing, that even while -I tried to focus my sight upon it to make sure I was not deceived, it -had both come and gone. The same second Julius caught my arm. I heard -him utter a quick, low cry, stifled instantly. He gasped. He quivered. -I heard him whispering: - -“Already! Your presence here--the additional forces that _you_ -bring--are known and recognised! See, how complete we are--a unit--you, -she and I--a trinity!” - -A coldness not of this world touched me as I heard. But that first -sense of joy and beauty followed. I felt it true--the three of us were -somehow one. - -“You saw it too?” I asked, exhilaration still about me. - -“They are everywhere and close,” he whispered quickly, as the running -figure came on toward us, “breaking out into visible manifestation -even. Hold yourself strong and steady. Remember, your attitude of mind -and feeling are important. Each detail of behaviour is significant.” - -His anxiety, I realised, was for us, not for himself. Already, it -seemed, our souls were playing vital rôles in some great dramatic -ceremonial just beginning. What we did and felt and thought was -but a partial expression of something going forward with pregnant -completeness behind the visible appearances all round. Mrs. LeVallon -stood breathless in front of us. She was hatless, her hair becomingly -dishevelled; her arms bare to the elbow and white with flour. She -stopped, placed her hands upon her hips, and panted for a full minute -before she could get breath enough to speak. Her eyes, a deep, luminous -sea-green, looked into ours. Her face was pale, yet the emotion was -excitement rather than alarm. I was aware of a superb, nymph-like -grace and charm about her. I caught my breath. Julius made no movement, -spoke no word. I wondered. I made a step forward to catch her. But she -did not fall; she merely sank down upon the ground at our feet. - -“Julius,” she panted, “that thing I’ve dreamed about so of_t_en----” - -She stopped short, glancing up at me, the eyes, charged with a sweet -agitation, full upon my own. I turned to Julius with a gesture of -uncontrollable impatience. - -He spoke calmly, sitting down on the slope beside her. “You felt it -again--the effect of your vivid dreaming? Or did you this time--see -anything?” - -The swiftness and surprise of the little scene had been bewildering, -but the moment he spoke confusion and suspense both vanished. The sound -of his quiet voice restored the threatened balance. Peace came back -into the sunlight and the air. There was composure again. - -“You certainly were not frightened!” he added, as she made no reply. -“You look too happy and exhilarated for that.” He put his hand on hers. - -I sat down then beside her, and she turned and looked at me with a -pathetic mingling of laughter and agitation still in her wide-opened -eyes. The three of us were close together. He kept his hand on hers. -Her shoulder touched me. I was aware of something very wonderful there -between us. We comforted her, but it was more, far more, than that. -There was sheer, overflowing happiness in it. - -“It came into the house,” she said, her breath recovered now, and her -voice gentle. “It follered me--out here. I ran.” She looked swiftly -round at me. The radiance in her face was quite astonishing, turning -her almost beautiful. Her eyelids quivered a moment and the corners of -her lips seemed trying to smile--or not to smile. She was happy there, -sitting between us two. Yet there was nothing light or foolish in her. -Something of worship rose in me as I watched her. - -“Well,” urged Julius, “and then--what?” I saw him watching me as well -as her. “You remembered your dream, you felt something, and--you ran -out here to us. What else?” - -She hesitated deliciously. But it was not that she wanted coaxing. She -evidently knew not how to tell the thing she had to say. She looked -hard into my face, her eyes keenly searching. - -“It has something to do with _him_, you mean?” asked Julius, noting the -direction of her questioning gaze. - -“Oh, I’m glad he’s here,” she answered quickly. “It’s the best thing -that could happen.” And she looked round again at Julius, moving her -hand upon his own. - -“We need him,” said Julius simply with a smile. Then, suddenly, she -took my hand too, and held it tightly. “He’s a protection, I think, as -well,” she added quite gravely; “that’s how I feel him.” Her hand lay -warm and fast on mine. - -There was a pause. I felt her fingers strongly clasp my own. The three -of us were curiously linked together somehow by those two hands of -hers. A great harmony united us. The day was glorious, the power of the -sun divine, there was power in the wind that touched our faces. - -“Yes,” she continued slowly, “I think it had to do with him--with -_you_, Professor,” she repeated emphatically, fixing her bright gaze -upon me. “I think you brought it--brought my dream back--brought that -thing I dreamed about into--the house itself.” And in her excitement -she said distinctly “’ouse.” - -I found no word to say at the moment. She kept her hand firmly upon -mine. - -“I was making bread there, by the back winder as usual,” she went -on, “when suddenly I started thinking of that splendid dream I’ve -had so of_t_en--of you,” looking at her husband, “and me and another -man--that’s _you_ I’m sure,” she gazed at me--“all three of us doing -some awful thing together in a place underground somewhere, but dressed -quite different to what we are now, and standing round a lot of people -sleeping in a row--when something we expected, yet were frightened at, -used to come in--and give me such a start that I always woke up before -knowing what was really going to happen.” - -She paused a second. She was confused. Her sentences ran into each -other. - -“Well, I was making the bread there when the wind came in with a bang -and sent the flour in a cloud all over everything--look! You can see -it over my dress still--and with it, sort of behind it, so to speak, -something followed with a rush--oh, an enormous rush and scurry it -was--and I thought I was rising in the air, or going to burn to pieces -by the heat that came in with it. I felt big like--as the sea when -you get out of your depth and feel yourself being carried away. I -screamed--and the three of us were all together in a moment, just as in -the dream, you know--and we were glad, tremendously glad, because we’d -got something we wanted that made us feel as if we could do anything, -oh, anything in the world--a sort of ’eavenly power I think it was--and -then, just as we were going to use our power and do all kinds of things -with it, someone--I don’t know who it was, for I never can see the -face--a man, though--one of those sleeping figures--rose up and came at -us all in a fury, and--well, I don’t know exactly, but it all turned -out a failure somehow--It got terrible then----” She looked like a -flash of lightning into my face, then dropped her eyes again. - -“You acted out your dream, as it were?” interrupted Julius a moment. - -She looked at him with a touch of wonder. “I suppose so,” she said, -and let go both our hands. “Only this time someone really did come in -and caught me just as I seemed going out of myself--it may have been -fainting, but I don’t think so, for I’m never one to faint--more like -being carried off in a storm, a storm with wind and fire in it----” - -“It was the ‘man’ caught you?” I asked quickly. - -“The man, yes,” she continued. “I didn’t fall. He caught me just in -time; but my wind was gone--gone clean out of me as though someone had -knocked me down.” - -“He said nothing?” Julius asked. - -She looked sharply at him. “Nothing,” she answered, “not a single word. -I ran away. He frightened me. For a moment--I was that confused with -remembering my dream, I suppose; so I just pushed him off and ran out -here to find you both. I’d been watching you for a long time while I -was mixing the dough.” - -“I’m glad he was close enough to help you,” put in Julius. - -“Well,” she explained, “I’ve a sort of idea he was watching me and saw -the thing coming, for he’d been in and out of the kitchen for half an -hour before, asking me silly questions about whether I wanted this or -that, and fussing about”--she laughed at her own description--“just -like an old faithful dog or something.” - -We all laughed together then. - -“I’m glad I found you so quickly,” she concluded, “because while I was -running up here I felt that something was running with me--something -that was burning and rushing--like a bit of what was in the house.” - -She stopped, and a shadow passed across her eyes, changing their colour -to that nondescript grey tint they sometimes wore. The wonderful -deep green went out of them. And for a moment there was silence that -seemed to fill the entire valley. Julius watched her steadily, strong -and comforting in his calmness. The valley, I felt, watched us too, -something protective in its perfect stillness. All signs of agitation -were gone; the wind sank down; the trees stood by in solemn rows; the -very clouds moved more slowly down the calm blue sky. I watched the -bosom of Mrs. LeVallon rise and fall as she recovered breath again. -She put her hands up to gather in the hair at the back of her head, -deftly tidying its disordered masses, and as she did so I felt her -gaze draw my own with a force I could not resist. We looked into each -other’s eyes for a full two minutes, no one speaking, no signs anywhere -exchanged, Julius watchfully observant close beside us; and though I -know not how to tell it quite, it is a fact that something passed from -those clear, discerning eyes into my heart, convincing me more than any -words of Julius ever could, that all he claimed about her and myself -was true. She was imperial somewhere.... She had once been mine.... - -The cloud passed slowly from her face. To my intense relief--for I -had the dread that the silent gaze would any moment express itself in -fateful words as well. The muscles of her firm, wide mouth relaxed. She -broke into happy laughter suddenly. - -“It’s very silly of me to think and feel such things, or be troubled -by a dream,” she exclaimed, still holding my eyes, and her laughter -running over me like some message of forgiveness. “We shall frighten -him away,” she went on, turning now to Julius, “before he’s had time -to taste the new bread I’m making--for him.” Her manner was quiet -and composed again, natural, prettily gracious. I searched in vain -for something to say; the turmoil of emotion within offered too many -possible rejoinders; I could not choose. Julius, however, relieved me -of the necessity by taking her soothingly in both his arms and kissing -her. The next second, before I could move or speak, she leaned over -against my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek as well. - -Yet nothing happened; there was no sign anywhere that an unusual thing -had occurred; I felt that the sun and wind had touched me. It was as -natural as shaking hands. Ah! but the sun and wind were magical with -life! - -“There!” she laughed happily, “we’re all three together and -understanding, and nothing can go wrong. Isn’t it so, Julius?” And, -if there was archness in her voice and manner, there was certainly no -trace of that mischief which can give offence. “And you understand, -Professor, don’t you?” - -I saw him take her hand and stroke it. He showed no more resentment -than if she had handed me a flower. And I tried to understand. I -struggled. I at least succeeded in keeping my attitude of thought and -feeling above destructive levels. We three were one; love made us so. A -devouring joy was in me, but with it the strange power of a new point -of view. - -“We couldn’t be together like this,” she laughed naïvely, “in a city. -It’s only here. It’s this valley and the sun and wind what does it.” -She looked round her. “All this sun and air, and the flowers, and the -forest and the clear cold little stream. Why, _I_ believe, if we stay -here we shall never die at all. We’d turn into gods or something.” - -She murmured on half to herself, the voice sinking towards a -whisper--leaning over upon her husband’s breast, she stretched out -her hand and quietly took my own again. “It’s got much stronger,” I -heard, “since _he’s_ come; it makes me feel closer to you too, Julius. -Only--he’s with us as well, just like--just as if we were all meant for -each other somehow.” - -There was pressure, yet no suggestive pressure, in the hand that held -my own. It just took me firmly, with a slight gesture of drawing me -closer to herself and to Julius too. It united us all three. And, -strange as it all was, I, for my part, was aware of no uneasiness, -no discomfort, no awkwardness certainly. I only felt that what she -said was true: we were linked together by some deep sympathy of -feeling-with; we were at one; we were marvellously fused by some tie of -universal life that this enchanted valley made apparent. Nature fused -with human nature, raising us all to a diviner level. - -There was a period of silence in which no one moved or spoke; and then, -to my relief, words came from Julius--natural and unforced, yet with a -meaning that I saw was meant for me: - -“The presence of so distinguished a man,” he said lightly, looking down -into her face with almost a boyish smile, “is bound to make itself felt -anywhere.” He glanced across at me significantly. “Even the forces of -Nature in this peaceful valley, you see, are aware of his arrival, and -have sent out messengers to greet him. Only,” he added, “they need not -be in such a hurry about it, need they--or so violent?” - -We all laughed together. It was the only reference he made in her -presence to what had happened. Nor did she ask a single question. We -lay a little longer, basking in the sunlight and breathing the fragrant -mountain air, and then Mrs. LeVallon sprang to her feet alertly, saying -that she must go and finish her bread. Julius went with her. I was left -alone--with the eerie feeling that more than these two had just been -with me.... - -Less than an hour later the horizon darkened suddenly. Out of a -harmless sky appeared masses of ominous cloud. Wild gusts of hot, -terrific wind rushed sideways over the swaying forest. The trees shook -to their roots, groaning; they shouted; loosened stones fell rattling -down the nearer gullies; and, following a minute of deep silence, -there blazed forth then a wild glory of lightning such as I have never -witnessed. It was a dancing sea of white and violet. It came from every -quarter of the sky at once with a dazzling fury as though the entire -atmosphere were set on fire. The wind and thunder shook the mountains. -From a cupful of still, sweet sunshine, our little valley changed into -a scene of violent pandemonium. The precipices tossed the echoing -thunder back and forth, the clear stream beside the châlet became a -torrent of foaming, muddy water, and the wind was of such convulsive -turbulence that it seemed to break with explosive detonations that -menaced the upheaval of all solid things. There was a magnificence in -it all as though the universe, and not a small section of the sky, -produced it. - -It passed away again as swiftly as it came. At lunch time the sun -blazed down upon a drenched and laughing scene, washed as by magic, -brilliant and calm as though made over all afresh. The air was limpid; -the forest poured out perfume; the meadows shone and twinkled. - -During the assault I saw neither Julius nor the Man, but in the -occasional deep pauses I heard the voice of Mrs. LeVallon singing gaily -while she kneaded bread at the kitchen “winder” just beneath my own. -She, at any rate, was not afraid. But, while it was in progress, I went -alone to my room and watched it, caught by a strange sensation of power -and delight its grandeur woke in me, and also by a sense of wonder that -was on the increase. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - “_Why is she set so far, so far above me, - And yet not altogether raised above? - I would give all the world that she should love me, - My soul that she should never learn to love._”--Mary Coleridge. - - -“The channels here are open.” - -As the days went by the words remained with me. I recognised their -truth. Nature was pouring through me in a way I had never known before. -I had gone for a walk that afternoon after the sudden storm, and tried -to think things out. It was all useless. I could only feel. The stream -of this strange new point of view had swept me from known moorings; -I was in deep water now; there was exhilaration in the rush of an -unaccustomed tide. One part of me, hourly fading, weighed, criticised -and judged; another part accepted and was glad. It was like the -behaviour of a divided personality. - -“Your brain of To-day asks questions, while your soul of long ago -remembers and is sure.” - -I was constantly in the presence of Mrs. LeVallon. My “brain” was -active with a thousand questions. The answers pointed all one way. This -woman, so humbly placed in life to-day, rose clearer and clearer before -me as the soul that Julius claimed to be of ancient lineage. Respect -increased in me with every word, with every act, with every gesture. -Her mental training, obviously, was small, and of facts that men call -knowledge she had but few; but in place of these recent and artificial -acquirements she possessed a natural and spontaneous intelligence -that was swiftly understanding. She seized ideas though ignorant of -the words that phrased them; she grasped conceptions that have to -be hammered into minds the world regards as well equipped--seized -them naïvely, yet with exquisite comprehension. Something in her -discriminated easily between what was transitory and what was real, and -the glory of this world made evidently small appeal to her. No ordinary -ambition of vulgar aims was hers. Fame and position were no bait at -all; she cared nothing about being “somebody.” There was a touch of -unrest and impatience about her when she spoke of material things -that most folk value more than honour, some even more than character. -Something higher, yet apparently forgotten, drew her after it. The -pursuit of pleasure and sensation scarcely whispered to her at all, and -though her self-esteem was strong, personal vanity in the little sense -was quite a negligible quantity. - -This young wife had greatness in her. Domestic servant though she -certainly had been, she was distinguished in her very bones. A clear -ray of mental guidance and intuition ran like a gleam behind all -her little blunders of speech and action. To her, it was right and -natural, for instance, that her husband’s money should mostly be sent -away to help those who were without it. “We’re much better this way,” -she remarked lightly, remembering, perhaps, the life of detailed and -elaborate selfishness she once had served, “and anyhow I can’t wear -two dresses at the same time, can I? Or live in two houses--what’s the -good of all that? But for those who like it,” she added, “I expect -it’s right enough. They need it--to learn, or something. I’ve been in -families of the best that didn’t want for anything--but really they had -nothing at all.” It was in the little things I caught the attitude. -Although conditions here made it impossible to test it, I had more and -more the impression, too, that she possessed insight into the causes of -human frailty, and understood temptations she could not possibly have -experienced personally in this present life. - -An infallible sign of younger souls was their pursuit hot-foot of -pleasure and sensation, of power, fame, ambition. The old souls -leave all that aside; they have known its emptiness too often. -Their hall-mark lies in spiritual discernment, the power to choose -between the permanent and the transitory. Brains and intellect were -no criterion of development at all. And I reflected with a smile -how the “educated” and “social” world would close its doors to such -a woman--the common world of younger, cruder souls, insipid and -undistinguished, many of them but just beyond the animal stage--the -“upper classes”! The Kingdom of Heaven lies within, I remembered, and -the meek and lowly shall inherit the “earth.” - -And the “Dog-Man” also rose before me in another light--this -slow-minded, instinctive being whom elsewhere I should doubtless have -dismissed as “stupid.” His approximation to the instinctive animal life -became so clear. In his character and essential personality lay the -curious suggestion. Out of his frank gaze peered the mute and searching -appeal of the soul awakening into self-consciousness--a look of direct -and simple sincerity, often questioning, often poignant. The interval -between Mrs. LeVallon and himself was an interval of countless lives. -How welcome to him would be the support of a thought-out religious -creed, to her how useless! The different stages individuals occupy, how -far apart, how near, how various! I felt it all as true, and the effect -of this calm valley upon me was not sympathy with Nature only, but a -certain new sympathy with all the world. It was very wonderful. - -I watched the “man” with a new interest and insight--the proud and -self-conscious expression on his face as he moved constantly about us, -his menial services earnest and important. The safety of the entire -establishment lay upon his shoulders. He made the beds as he served the -coffee, cleaned the boots or lit the lamps at dusk, with a fine dignity -that betrayed his sense of our dependence on him--he would never fail. -He was ever on the watch. I could believe that he slept at night -with one eye open, muscles ready for a spring in case of danger. In -myself, at any rate, his signal devotion to our interest woke a kind of -affectionate wonder that touched respect. He was so eager and ready to -learn, moreover. The pathos in his face when found fault with was quite -appealing--the curious dumb attitude, the air of mortification that he -wore: “I’m rather puzzled, but I shall know another time. I shall do -better. Only--I haven’t got as far as you have!” - -In myself, meanwhile, the change worked forward steadily. I was much -alone, for Julius, preoccupied and intense, was now more and more -engaged upon purposes that kept him out of sight. Much of the time -he kept to his room upstairs, but he spent hours, too, in the open, -among the woods and on the further ridges, especially at night. Not -always did he appear at meals even, and what intercourse I had was with -Mrs. LeVallon, so that our intimacy grew quickly, ripening with this -sense of sudden and delightful familiarity as though we had been long -acquainted. There was at once a happy absence of formality between us, -although a dignity and sweet reserve tempered our strange relationship -in a manner the ordinary world--I feel certain--could hardly credit. -Out of all common zones of danger our intercourse was marvellously -lifted, yet in a way it is difficult to describe without leaving the -impression that we were hardly human in the accepted vulgar meaning of -the words. - -But the truth was simple enough, the explanation big with glory. It -was that Nature included us, mothering all we said or did or thought, -above all, _felt_. Our intercourse was not a separate thing, apart, -shut off, two little humans merely aware of the sympathetic draw of -temperament and flesh. It was part of Nature, natural in the biggest -sense, a small, true incident in the processes of the entire cosmos -whose life we shared. The physical thing called passion, of course, was -present, yet a passion that the sun and wind took care of, spreading -it everywhere about us through the hourly happenings of “common” -things--in the wind that embraced the trees and then passed on, in the -rushing stream that caught the flowers on its bank, then let them go -again, in the fiery sunshine that kissed the earth while leaving the -cooling shadows beside every object that it glorified. - -All this seemed in some new fashion clear to me--that passion degrades -because it is set exclusive and apart, magnified, idolatrised into a -false importance due to Nature’s being neglected and left outside. For -not alone the wind and sun and water shared our intercourse, knowing -it was well, but in some further sacramental way the whole big Earth, -the movements of the Sun, the Seasons, aye, and the armies of the other -stars in all their millions, took part in it, justifying its necessity -and truth. Without a trace of false exaltation in me I saw far, far -beyond even the poet’s horizon of love’s philosophy: - - “_Nothing in the world is single; - All things by a law divine - In one another’s being mingle-- - Why not I with thine?_” - -and so came again with a crash of fuller comprehension upon the words -of Julius that here we lived and acted out a Ceremony that conveyed -great teaching from a cosmic point of view. My relations with Mrs. -LeVallon, as our relations all three together, seen from this grander -angle, were not only possible and true: they were necessary. We were a -unit formed of three, a group-soul affirming truths beyond the brain’s -acceptance, proving universal, cosmic teaching in the only feasible -way--by acting it out. - -The scale of experience grew vast about me. This error of the past we -would set right was but an episode along the stupendous journey of our -climbing souls. The entire Present, the stage at which humanity found -itself to-day, was but a moment, and values worshipped now, and by -the majority rightly worshipped, would pass away, and be replaced by -something that would seem entirely new, yet would be in reality not -discovery but recovery. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - “_This mighty sea of Love, with wondrous tides, - Is sternly just to sun and grain; - ’Tis laving at this moment Saturn’s sides, - ’Tis in my blood and brain._”--Alexander Smith. - - -One evening, as the shadows began to lengthen across the valley, I -came in from my walk, and saw Mrs. LeVallon on the veranda, looking -out towards the ridges now tipped with the sunset gold. Her back was -to me. One hand shaded her eyes; her tall figure was like a girl’s; -her attitude conveyed expectancy. I got the impression she had been -watching for me. - -She turned at the sound of my footstep on the boards. “Ah, I hoped -you’d get back before the dark,” she said, with a smile of welcome that -betrayed a touch of relief. “It’s so easy to get lost in those big -woods.” She led the way indoors, where a shaded lamp stood on the table -laid for tea. She talked on easily and simply. She had been washing -“hankercheefs,” and as the dusk came on had felt she “oughter” be -seeing where I’d got to. I thanked her laughingly, saying that she must -never regard me as a guest who had to be looked after, and she replied, -her big eyes penetratingly on my own--“Oh, I didn’t mean _that_, -Professor. I knew by instinc’ you were not one to need entertaining. I -saw it reely the moment you arrived. I was just wondering where you’d -got to and--whether you’d find your way back all right.” And then, as -I made no reply, she went on to talk about the housework, what fun it -was, how it amused her, and how different it was from working for other -people. “I could work all day and night, you see, when the results are -there, in sight. It’s working for others when you never see the result, -or what it leads to, and jest get paid so much a week or month, that -makes you tired. Seeing the result seems to take away fatigue. The -other’s simply toil. Now, come to tea. I do relish my cup of tea.” - -It was very still and peaceful in the house; the logs burned brightly -on the open hearth; Julius was upstairs in his room. The winds had gone -to sleep, and the hush of dusk crept slowly on the outside world. - -I followed my hostess into the corner by the fire where two deep -arm-chairs beside the table beckoned us. Rather severe she looked now -in a dark stuff dress, dignified, something half stately, half remote -about her attitude. The poise in her physical expression came directly -from the mind. She moved with grace, sure of herself, seductive too, -yet with a seduction that led the thoughts far beyond mere physical -attraction. It was the charm of a natural simplicity I felt. - -“I’ve taken up Julius his,” I heard her saying in her uncultivated -voice, as she began to pour out tea. “And I’ve made these--these sort -of flat unleavened cakes for us.” The adjective startled me. She -pointed to thin, round scone-like things that lay steaming in a plate. -But her eyes were fixed on mine as though they questioned. - -“You used to like ’em....” - -Or, whether she said “I hope you’ll like ’em,” I am not certain--for -a sudden sense of intimacy flashed between us and disconcerted me. -Perhaps it was the tone and gesture rather than the actual words. A -sweetness as of some deep, remembered joy rose in me. - -I started. There had been disclosure, a kind of revelation. A door -had opened. They were familiar to me--those small “unleavened cakes.” -Something of happiness that had seemed lost slipped back of its own -accord into my heart. My head swam a second. Some part of me was drawn -backwards. For, as I took the offered cake, there stole to my nostrils -a faint perfume that made me tremble. Elusive, ghostly sensations -dropped their hair-like tracery on the brain, then vanished utterly. It -was all dim, yet haunting as a dream. The perfume faded instantly. - -“Thank you,” I murmured. “You make them deliciously ...” aware at the -same moment I had been about to say another thing in place of the empty -words, but had deliberately kept it back. - -The bewilderment came and went. Mrs. LeVallon dropped her eyes from -mine, although the question in their penetrating gaze still lingered. -I realised this new sense of intimacy that seemed uncannily perfect, -it was so natural. No suggestion lay in it of anything that should not -be, but rather the close-knit comfortable atmosphere of two minds that -were familiar and at home in silence. It deepened with every minute. It -seemed the deep companionship that many, many years had forged. - -Yet the moment of wonder had mysteriously come and gone. Even the aroma -of the little steaming cake was lost as well--I could not recapture -the faint odour. And it was my surface consciousness, surely, that -asked then about the recipe, and joined in the soft, familiar laughter -with which she answered that she “reely couldn’t say quite,” because -“it seemed to have come of its own accord while I was doing nothing in -particular with odds and ends about the cooking-stove.” - -“A very simple way,” I suggested, trying to keep my thoughts upon the -present, “a very easy way of finding new recipes,” whereupon, her -manner graver somewhat, she replied: “But, of course, I could make them -better if I stopped to think a bit first ... and had the proper things. -It’s jest my laziness. I know how--only”--she looked peeringly at me -again as with an air of searching for something I might supply--“I’ve -sort of mislaid something--forgot it, rather ... and I can’t, for the -life of me, remember where I learned it first.” - -There stirred between us into that corner of the lamp-lit room an -emotion that made me feel we used light words together as men use masks -upon their faces for disguise, fully aware that while the skin is -hidden the eyes are clear. My happiness seemed long-established. There -was a little pause in which the key sank deeper. Before I could find -anything to say, Mrs. LeVallon went on again: - -“There’s several things come to me like that these last few days----” - -“Since I came?” I could not prevent the question, nor could I hide the -pleasure in my voice. - -“That’s it,” she agreed instantly; “it’s as though you brought -them--back--simply by being here. It’s got to do with you.” Her elbows -were on the table, the chin resting on her folded hands as she stared -at me, both concentration and absent-mindedness in her expression -at the same time. Her thoughts were travelling, searching, beating -backwards into time. She leaned a little nearer to me suddenly, so that -I could almost feel her breath upon my face. - -“Like memories of childhood revived,” I said. My heart beat quickly. -There was great sweetness in me. - -“That’s it,” she repeated, but in a lowered tone. “That’s it, I think; -as if we’d been children together, only so far back I can’t hardly -remember.” - -She gazed again into my eyes, searching for words her untutored brain -could not supply. There was a moment of extraordinary tenseness. I felt -unsure of myself; uneasiness was in it, but a strange, lifting joy as -well. I knew an instant’s terror that either she or I might say an -undesirable thing. - -And to my relief just then the Man came clattering in with a cup -containing--cream! Her eyes left mine as with an effort. Drawing -herself free, yet not easily, from some inner entanglement that had -captured both of us, she turned and took the little cup. “There is no -proper cream jug,” she observed with a smile, dropping back into the -undisguised accent of the East Croydon fruiterer’s daughter, “but the -cream’s thick and good jest the same, and we’ll take it like this, -won’t we?” She stirred it with a spoon into my teacup. - -The “Man” stood watching us a moment with a questioning, puzzled look, -and then went out again. At the door he turned once more to assure -himself that all was as it should be, decided that it was so, and -vanished with a little run. Slowly, then, upon her face stole back -that graver aspect of the eyes and mouth; and into my own mind stole -equally a sense of deep confusion as I watched her--very delightful, -strangely sweet, but my first uneasiness oddly underlying it. -Instinctively I caught myself shrinking as from vague pain or danger. -I made a struggle to get free, but it was a feeble and half-hearted -effort. Mrs. LeVallon was saying exactly what I had known she was going -to say. - -“I’m all upset to-day,” she said with blunt simplicity, “and you must -excuse my manners. I feel sort of lost and queer. I can’t make it -out, but I keep forgettin’ who I am, and sometimes even where I am. -You”--raising her eyes from the plate to mine--“oughter be able to help -me. D’you know what I mean? Professor, sometimes, especially nights,” -her voice sinking as she said it, “I feel afraid of something----” She -paused, correcting herself suddenly. “Oh, no, it isn’t fear exactly, -you see, but a great happiness that seems too big to get hold of quite. -It’s jest out of reach always, and something’ll go wrong before it -reely comes.” She looked very hard at me. The strange sea-green eyes -became luminous. I felt power in her, a power she was not aware of -herself. “As if,” she continued earnestly, “there was some price to -pay for it--first. And somehow it’s for _you_--it’s what you’ve come -for----” She broke off suddenly. - -A touch of rapture caught me. It was only with strong effort that I -made a commonplace reply: - -“This valley, Mrs. LeVallon”--I purposely used the name and title--“is -exceedingly lonely; you are shut off from the world you are accustomed -to.” I tried to put firmness and authority into my words and manner. -“You have no companionship--of your own sex----” - -She brushed my explanation aside impatiently. “Oh, but it ain’t nothing -of that sort,” she exclaimed, seeing through my conventional words, and -knowing I realised that she did so; “it’s not loneliness, nor anything -ordin’ry like that. Julius is everything to me in _that_ way. It’s -something bigger and quite different--that’s got worse, got stronger I -mean, since you came. But I like your being here,” she added quickly, -“because I feel it’s jest the thing for Julius and for--for all of us. -Only, since you’ve been here it seems--well, it’s sort of coming to a -head.” - -I remained speechless. A kind of helplessness came over me. I could not -prevent it. - -“And mixed up with it,” she continued, not waveringly, but wholly -mistress of herself, “is the feeling that you’ve been here before -too--been with me. We’ve been together, and you know we have.” Her -cheek turned a shade paler; she was very earnest; there was deep -emotion in her. “That’s what I keep feelin’ for one thing. Everything -is that familiar--as if all three of us had been together before and -had come back again.” Her breath came faster. - -“You understand me, don’t you? When Julius told me you were coming, -it seemed quite natural, and I didn’t feel nothing of any kind except -that it was so natural; but the day you arrived I felt--afraid, though -always with this tremendous happiness behind it. And _that’s_ why I -didn’t come down to meet you!” The words came pouring out, yet without -a sign of talking wildly. Her eyes shone; the velvet band on her throat -rose and fell; I was aware of happiness and amazement, but never once -of true surprise. I had expected this, and more besides. “The moment I -saw you--up there at the winder in the early mornin’--it came bursting -over me, Professor, as sure as anything in this world, that we’ve come -together again like old, old friends.” - -And it was still my conventional sense of decent conduct that held me -to make a commonplace rejoinder. Yet how the phrases came, and why the -thin barrier between us did not fall with a crash is more than I can -tell. - -“Julius had spoken about me, and no doubt your imagination--here in -this deserted place----” - -She shook her head almost contemptuously. “Julius said nothing,” she -put in quickly, “nothing in particular, I mean; only that you were old -friends and he was positive sure you’d come because you’d promised. -It’s since you’ve come here that I’ve felt all this so strong. You -come as familiar and natural to me as my own mother,” she continued, -a faint flush rising on the former pallor; “and what’s more, your -coming has brought a whole lot of other things nearer, too,” adding in -a whisper suddenly, “things that make me afraid and happy at the same -time.” - -She paused a moment, peering round the room and out of the blindless -windows into the darkening valley. “Now, _he_”--pointing with her -thumb in the direction of the kitchen--“is all new to me, and I have -no feeling about him at all. But you! Why, I always know where you -are, and what you’ll be doing next, and saying, and even what you’re -thinking and feeling half the time--jest as I do with Julius--almost.” - -The next minute came the direct question that I dreaded. It was like a -pistol shot: - -“And you feel the same, Professor? You feel it, too? You know all about -me--and this great wonderful thing that’s creepin’ up nearer all the -time. Don’t you, now?” - -I looked straight at her over the big lamp-shade, feeling that some -part of me went lost in the depths of those strange, peering eyes. -There was a touch of authority in her face--about lips and mouth--that -I had seen once before. For an instant it hovered there while she -waited for my reply. It lifted the surface plainness of her expression -into a kind of solemn beauty. Her charm poured over me envelopingly. - -“There is,” I stammered, “a curious sense of intimacy between us--all, -and it is very delightful. It comes to me rather like childhood -memories revived. The loneliness of this valley,” I added, sinking my -voice lest its trembling should be noticeable, “may account for a good -many strange feelings, but it’s the peace and loveliness that should -make the chief appeal.” - -The searching swiftness of the look she flashed upon me, faintly -touched with scorn, I have seen sometimes in the eyes of a child who -knows an elder says vain things for its protection in the dark. Such -weak attempts but bring the reality nearer. - -“Oh, I feel that too--the loveliness--right enough,” she said at once, -her eyes still fixed on mine, “but I mean these other things as well.” -Her tone, her phrase, assumed that I also was aware of them. “Where -do they come from? What are they exactly? I often fancy there’s lots -of other people up here besides ourselves, only they’re hidden away -always--watchin’, waitin’ for something to happen--something that’s -being got ready like. Oh, but it’s a splendid feeling, too, and makes -me feel alive all over.” She sat up and clapped her hands softly like -a child, but there was awe as well as joy in her. “And it comes from -the woods and sky somehow--like wind and lightning. God showed Himself -once, didn’t He, in a burnin’ bush and in a mighty rushin’ wind?” - -“Nature seems very real in a place like this,” I said hurriedly. “We -see no other human beings. Imagination grows active and constructs----” - -The instant way she swept aside the evasive reply I was so proud of -made me feel foolish. - -“Imagination,” she said firmly, yet with a bewitching smile, “is not -making up. It’s finding out. You know that!” - -We stared at one another for a moment without speech. It seemed as if -the forest, the meadows, the little rivulet of cool, clear water, the -entire valley itself became articulate--through her. Her personality -rushed over me like a gush of wind. In her enthusiasm and belief rose -the glow of fire. - -“You feel the same,” she went on, with conviction in her voice, -“or you wouldn’t try to pretend you don’t. You wouldn’t try to -hide it.” And the authority grew visibly upon her face. There was -a touch of something imperious as well. “You see, I can’t speak to -_him_ about it, I can’t ask him”--jerking her head towards the room -upstairs--“because”--she faltered oddly for a second--“because it’s -about himself. I mean he knows it _all_. And if I asked him--my God, -he’d tell me!” - -“You prefer not to know?” - -She smiled and shrugged her shoulders with a curious gesture -impossible to interpret. “I long to know,” she replied, “but I’m half -afraid”--she shivered slightly--“to hear everything. I feel as if it -would change me--into--someone else.” The last words were spoken almost -below her breath. - -But the joy broke loose in me as I heard. It was another state of -consciousness she dreaded yet desired. This new consciousness was -creeping over her as well. She shared it with me; our innate sympathy -was so deep and perfect. More, it was a type of consciousness we had -shared together before. An older day rose hauntingly about us both. We -felt-with one another. - -“For yourself?” I asked, dropping pretence as useless any longer. “You -feel afraid for yourself?” - -She moved the lamp aside with a gesture so abrupt it seemed almost -violent; no object intervened between our gaze; and she leaned forward, -folding her hands upon the white tablecloth. I sat rigidly still -and watched her. Her face was very near to mine. I could see myself -reflected in her glowing eyes. - -“Not for myself, Professor, nor for you,” she said in a low voice. -Then, dropping the tone to a whisper, “but for him. I’ve felt it on -and off ever since we came up here last spring. But since you’ve come, -I’ve known it positive--that something’ll happen to Julius--before we -leave--and before you leave....” - -“But, Mrs. LeVallon----” - -“And it’s something we can’t prevent,” she went on whispering, “neither -of us--nor oughter prevent either--because it’s something we’ve got to -do all three together.” - -The intense conviction in her manner blocked utterance in me. - -“Something I want to do, what’s more,” she continued, “because -it’s sort of magnificent--if it comes off proper and as it -should--magnificent for all of us, and like a great vision or -something. _You_ know what I mean. We are together in it, but this -old valley and the whole world is somehow in it, too. I can’t quite -understand. It’s very wonderful. Julius will suffer, too, only he’ll -call it jest development.” Her voice sank lower still. “D’you know, -Professor, I sometimes feel there’s something in Julius that seems to -me like--God.” - -She stood up as she said it, tall, erect, her figure towering above me; -and as she rose her face passed out of the zone of yellow lamplight -into comparative shadow, the eyes fixed always penetratingly upon my -own. And I could have sworn that not alone their expression altered, -growing as with fiery power, but that the very outline of her head -and shoulders shifted into something else, something dark, remote and -solemn as a tree at midnight, drawn almost visibly into larger scale. - -She bent lower again a little over the table, leaning her hands upon -the back of the chair she had just occupied. I knew exactly what she -was going to say. The sentences dropped one by one from her lips just -as I expected. - -“I’ve always had a dread in me, ever since I can remember,” I heard -this familiar thing close in my ear, “a sinking like--of some man that -I was bound to meet--that there was an injury I’d got to put right, and -that I’d have to suffer a lot in doing it. When I met Julius first I -thought it might be him. Then I knew it wasn’t him, but that I’d meet -the other--the right man--through him sooner or later.” She stopped and -watched me for a second. Her eyes looked through and through me. “It’s -you, Professor,” she concluded; “it’s you.” - -She straightened up again and passed behind my chair. I heard her -retreating steps. A thousand words rose up in me, but I kept silence. -What should I say? How should I confess that I, too, had known a -similar dread of meeting--her? A net encompassed me, a web was flung -that tightened as it fell--a web of justice, marvellously woven, old as -the stars and certain as the pull of distant planets, closing us all -together into a pattern of actions necessary and inexorable. - -I turned. I saw her against the window where she stood looking out into -the valley, now thick with darkness about the little house. And for one -passing instant it seemed to me that the entire trough of that dark -valley brimmed with the forces of wind and fire that were waiting to -come in upon us. - -And Mrs. LeVallon turned and looked at me across the room. There was a -smile upon her lips. - -“But we’ll play it out,” her whisper reached me, “and face it all -without fear or shirking ... when it ... comes....” And as she -whispered it I hid my face in my hands so as not to meet her gaze. For -my own dread of years ago returned in force upon me, and I knew beyond -all doubt or question, though without a shred of evidence, that what -she said was true. - -And when I lifted my eyes a moment later Mrs. LeVallon had gone from -the room, and the Man, I saw, was clearing away the tea things, -glancing at me from time to time for a word or smile, as though to show -that whatever happened he was always faithful, ready to fight for all -of us to the death if necessary, and to be depended upon absolutely. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - “_A thousand ages onward led - Their joys and sorrows to that hour; - No wisdom weighed, no word was said, - For only what we were had power._”--A. E. - - -Meanwhile my intercourse with Nature now began to betray itself in -curious little ways, and none more revealing of this mingled joy and -nervousness than my growing excitement on being abroad after dark alone. - -In the far more desolate Monzoni Valley a few weeks before I had passed -whole nights in the open without the least suspicion of uneasiness, -yet here, amid these friendly woods, covered by this homely, peaceful -valley, it was suddenly made clear to me that I had nerves. And the -reason, briefly put, was that there I knew myself alone, whereas here I -knew myself never alone. - -This sense of a populated Nature grew. After dusk it fairly mastered -me, but even in broad daylight, when the September sunshine flooded -the whole trough of valley with warmth and brightness, there clung to -me the certainty that my moods and feelings, as my very footsteps, -too, were noted--and understood. This sense of moving Presences, as -in childhood, was stirred by every wind that blew. The feeling of -co-operation increased. It was conscious, intelligent co-operation. - -“Over that limestone ridge against the sky,” I caught myself feeling, -rather than definitely thinking; “from just beyond the crests of those -tall pines, will presently come----” What? I knew not, even as the -child knows not. Only, it would come--appearing suddenly from the -woods, or clouds, or from behind the big boulders that strewed the open -spaces. - -In the fields about the châlet this was manifest too, but especially -on the naked ridges above the forests and in the troughs that held the -sunlight. Where the wind had unobstructed motion, and where the heat -of the sun accumulated in the hollows, this sense of preparation, of -co-operation, chiefly touched me. There was behind it pressure--as of -purpose and direction, the idea that intelligence stirred within these -natural phenomena. Some type of elemental life, enormous yet generally -diffused through formlessness, moved and had its being behind natural -appearances. - -More and more, too, I realised that “inanimate” Nature was a script -that it was possible to read; that certain objects, certain appearances -drew my attention because they had a definite meaning to convey, -whereas others remained unnoticed, as though not necessary to the -sentence of some message or communication. The Language of Happenings -that Julius talked about--the occurrences of daily life as words in -some deep cosmical teaching--connected itself somewhere with this -meaning that hid in common objects. - -That my awareness of these things was known to others of the household -besides myself was equally clear, for I never left the immediate -neighbourhood of the châlet after dark without the Man following my -movements with a kind of anxiety, sometimes coming on my very tracks -for a considerable distance, or hanging about until I returned to light -and safety. In sleep, too, as I passed slowly into unconsciousness, it -seemed that the certainty of these Presences grew startlingly distinct, -and more than once I woke in the night without apparent cause, yet with -the conviction that they brooded close upon the châlet and its inmates, -pressing like a rising flood against the very walls and windows. And on -these occasions I usually heard Julius moving in his room just across -the narrow passage, or the Man astir in the lower regions of the house. -Outside, the moonlight, cold and gleaming, silvered the quiet woods and -limestone heights. Yet not all the peace and beauty of the scene, nor -the assurance of the steady stars themselves, could quite dispel this -conviction that something was in active progress all about me, and -that the elements themselves urged forward towards the deliverance of -some purpose that had relation to ourselves. - -Julius, I knew, was at the root of it. - -One night--a week or so after my arrival--I woke from a dreamless sleep -with the impression that a voice had called me. I paused and listened, -but the sound was not repeated. I lay quietly for some minutes, trying -to discover whose voice it was, for I seemed bereft of some tender -companionship quite recently enjoyed. Someone who had been near me had -gone again. I was aware of loneliness. - -It was between one and two in the morning and I had slept for several -hours, yet this mood was not the one in which I had gone to bed. -Sleep, even ten minutes’ sleep, brings changes on the heart; I woke to -this sense of something desirable just abandoned. Someone, it seemed, -had called my name. There was a tingling of the nerves, a poignant -anticipation that included high delight. I craved to hear that voice -again. Then, suddenly, I knew. - -I rose and crossed the room. The warmth of the house oppressed me, -although the wood-fire in the hearth downstairs was long since out, -and by the open window I drank in the refreshing air. The valley lay -in a lake of silver. There was mist upon the meadows, transparent, -motionless, the tinkling of the rivulet just audible beneath its gauzy -covering. The cliffs rose in the distance, gaunt and watchful; the -forest was a pool of black. I saw the lake, a round blot upon the -fields. Over the shingled roof occasional puffs of wind made a faint -rushing sound under the heavy eaves. The moonlight was too bright for -stars, and the ridges seemed to top the building with the illusion of -nearness that such atmosphere engenders. The hush of a perfect autumn -night lay over all. - -I stood by that open window spellbound. For the clear loveliness seemed -to take my hand and lead me forth into a vale of beauty that, behind -the stillness, was brimming with activity. Vast energy paused beneath -the immobility. The moonlight, so soft and innocent, yet gleamed with -a steely brightness as of hidden fire; the puffs of wind were but the -trickling draughts escaping from reservoirs that stored incalculable -reserves. A terrific quality belied the appearance of this false -repose. I was aware of elemental powers, pressed down and eager to -run over. It came to me they also had been--called. Their activity, -moreover, was in some very definite relation to myself. The voice that -summoned me had warned as well. - -I stood listening, trembling with an anticipation of things called -unearthly. Nature, dressed in the Night, stepped in and took my hand. -There seemed an enormous gesture; and it was a gesture, I felt, of -adoration. Somewhere behind the calm picture there lay worship. - -And I realised, then, that I stood before a page of writing. Out -of this inanimate map that was composed of earth, air, fire and -water, a deep sentence of elemental significance thrust up into my -consciousness. Objects, forced into syllables of this new language, -spoke to me. The cosmic language which is the language of the gods -stood written on the moonlit world. “We lie here ready for your use,” I -read. “Worship is the link. We may be known on human terms. You can use -us. We can work with you.” - -The message was so big, it seemed to thunder. Close to this window-sill -on which I leaned the rising energy swayed like a sea. It was obedient -to human will, and human will could harness it for practical purposes. -I was _feeling-with_ it. Immense, far-spreading, pouring down in -viewless flood from the encircling heights, the surge of it came round -the lonely châlet. The valley brimmed. The blindly-heaving lift of -it--thus it presented itself to my imagination--could alter the solid -rocks until they flowed like water, could float the trees as though -they were but straws. For this also came to me with a conviction no -less significant than the rest--that the particular elemental powers at -hand were the familiar ones of heat and air. With those twin powers, -which in their ultimate physical manifestation men know as wind and -fire, my mind had established contact. But it was with the spiritual -prototypes of these two elements my own small personal breath and heat -linked on. There was co-operation. I had been called by name; yet my -summoning was but a detail in some vaster evocation. There was no -barrier between the not-me, as I must call it, and the me. Others had -been called as well. - -So strong was the sense that some unusual manifestation of these two -“elements” approached, that I instinctively drew back; and in that same -instant there flashed into me a vision, as it were, of sheeted flame -and of gigantic wind. In my heart the picture rushed, for outwardly -still reigned the calm and silence of the autumn night. Yet any moment, -it seemed, the barrier into visible, sensible appearance would be -leaped. And it was then, while I stood hesitating half-way between the -window and the bed, that the sound rose again with sharp distinctness, -and my name was called a second time. - -I heard the voice; I recognised it; but the name was not the one I -answer to to-day. It was another--first uttered at Edinburgh many years -ago--Silvatela. And strong emotion laid a spell upon my senses, masking -the present with a veil of other times and other places. I stood -entranced.... I heard Julius moving softly on the bare boards of the -passage as he came towards my room; the door opened quietly; he held a -lighted candle; I saw him framed against the darkness on the threshold. - -For a fraction of a second then, before either of us spoke, it was as -though he stood before me in another setting. For the meagre wood on -either side of him gave place somehow to pylons of grey stone, hewn -massively; the ceiling lifted into vaulted space where stars hung -brightly; cool air breathed against my skin; and through an immense -crepuscular distance I was aware of moving figures, clothed like his -own in flowing white with napkined heads, their visages swarthier than -those I knew to-day. He took a step forward into the room, and the -shifting shadows from the moving candle dispelled the entire scene as -though the light and darkness had constructed it. He spoke at once: - -“_She_ calls you,” he said quietly. - -He set the candle down upon the table by my bed and gently closed the -door. The draught, as he did so, shook the flame, sending a flutter of -shadows dancing through the air. Yet it was no play of light and shadow -that this time laid the strange construction on his face and gestures. -So stately were his movements, so radiant his pale, passionless -features, so touched with high, unearthly glory his whole appearance, -that I watched him for a minute in silence, conscious of respect that -bordered upon awe. He had been, I knew, in direct communication with -the very sources of his strange faith, and a remnant of the power still -clung to the outer body of his flesh. Into that small, cramped chamber -Julius brought the touch of other life, of other consciousness that yet -was not wholly unfamiliar to me. I remained close beside him. I drank -in power from him. And, again, across my thoughts swept that sheet of -fire and that lift of violent wind. - -“_She_ calls you,” he repeated calmly; and by the emphasis on the -pronoun I knew he meant her Self of older times. - -“She----” I whispered. “Your wife!” - -He bowed his head. “She knows, now for the first time, that _you_ are -here.” - -“She remembers?” I asked falteringly, knowing the “you” he meant was -also of an older day. - -“She lies in trance,” he answered, “and the buried Self is in command. -She felt your presence, and she called for you--by name.” - -“In trance?” I had the feeling of distress that he had forced her. But -he caught my thought and set it instantly at rest. - -“From deep sleep she passed of her own accord,” he said, “into the -lucid state. Her older Self, which retains the memories of all the -sections, is now consciously awake.” - -“And she knows you too? Knows you as you were--remembers?” I asked -breathlessly, thinking of my first sight of him in the doorway. - -“She is aware at this very moment of both you and me,” he answered, -“but as she knew us in that particular past. For the old conditions are -gathering to-night about the house, and the Equinox is nearer.” - -“Gathered, then, by you,” I challenged, conscious that an emotion of -protection rose strong in me--protection of the woman. - -“Gathered, rather,” he at once rejoined, “by our collective presence, -by our collective feeling, thought and worship, but also by necessity -and justice which bring the opportunity.” - -He spoke with solemnity. I stared for several minutes in silence, -facing him and holding his brilliant eyes with an answering passion in -my own. Through the open window came a sighing draught of wind; a sense -of increasing warmth came with it; it seemed to me that the pictured -fire and wind were close upon me, as though the essential life of these -two common elements were rising upon me from within; and I turned, -trembling slightly, aware of the valley behind me in the moonlight. The -châlet, it seemed, already was surrounded. The Presences stood close. - -“They also know,” he whispered; “they wait for the moment when we shall -require them--the three of us together. She, too, desires them. The -necessity is upon us all.” - -With the words there rose a certainty in me that knew no vain denial. -The sense of reality and truth came over me again. He was in conscious -league with powers of Nature that held their share of universal -intelligence; we three had returned at last together. The approach -of semi-spiritual intelligences that operate through phenomenal -effects--in this case wind and fire--was no imaginative illusion. The -channels here were open. - -“No sparrow falls, no feather is misplaced,” he whispered, “but it is -known and the furthest star responds. From our life in another star we -brought our knowledge first. But we used it here--on the earth. It -was you--your body--that we used as channel. It was your return that -prevented our completion. Your dread of to-day is memory----” - -There broke in upon his unfinished sentence an interrupting voice that -turned me into stone. Ringing with marvellous authority, half sweet, -half terrible, it came along the wooden walls of that narrow corridor, -entered the very room about our ears, then died away in the open valley -at our backs. The awakened Self of “Mrs. LeVallon” called us: - -“Concerighé ... Silvatela...!” sounded through the quiet night. - -The voice, with its clear accents, plunged into me with an incredible -appeal of some forgotten woe and joy combined. It was a voice I -recognised, yet one unheard by me for ages. Power and deep delight rose -in me, but with them a flash of stupid, earthly terror. It sounded -again, breaking the silence of the early morning, but this time nearer -than before. It was close outside the door. I felt Julius catch me -quickly by the arm. My terror vanished at his touch. - -The tread of bare feet upon the boards was audible; the same second -the door pushed open and _she_ stood upon the threshold, a tall, white -figure with fixed and luminous eyes, and hair that fell in a dark cloud -to the waist. Into the zone of pallid candle-light that the moon made -paler still, she passed against the darkness of the outer passage, -white and splendid, like some fair cloud that swims into the open sky. -And as wind stirs the fringes of a cloud, the breeze from the window -stirred the edges of her drapery where the falling hair seemed to -gather it in below the waist. - -It was the wife of Julius, but the wife of Julius changed. Like some -vision of ethereal beauty she stood before us, yet a vision that -was alive. For she moved, she breathed, she spoke. It was both the -woman as I knew her actually To-day, and the woman as I had known -her--Yesterday. The partial aspect that used this modern body was -somehow supplemented--fulfilled by the presentment of her entire Self. -The whole series of past sections came up to reinforce the little -present, and I gazed upon the complete soul of her, rather than upon -the fragment that made bread now in the kitchen and had known domestic -service. The bearing was otherwise, the attitude another, the very -fashion of her features changed. Her walk, her gestures, her mien had -undergone enthralling alteration. - -The stream of time went backwards as I gazed, or, rather, it stopped -flowing altogether and held steady in a sea that had no motion. I -sought the familiar points in her, plunging below the surface with each -separate one to find what I--remembered. The eyes, wide open in the -somnambulistic lucidity, were no longer of a nondescript mild grey, but -shone with the splendour I had already half surprised in them before; -the poise of the neck, the set of the shoulders beneath the white linen -of her simple night-dress, had subtly, marvellously changed. She stood -in challenge to a different world. It seemed to me that I saw the Soul -of her, attended by the retinue of memories, experience, knowledge of -all its past, summed up sublimely in a single moment. She was superb. - -The outward physical change was, possibly, of the slightest, yet wore -just that touch of significant alteration which conveyed authority. -The tall, lithe figure moved with an imperial air; she raised her arm -towards the open window; she spoke. The voice was very quiet, but it -held new depth, sonority and accent. She had not seen me yet where I -stood in the shadows by the wall, for Julius screened me somewhat, but -I experienced that familiar clutch of dread upon the heart that once -before--ages and ages ago--had overwhelmed me. Memory poured back upon -my own soul too. - -“Concerighé,” she uttered, looking full at Julius while her hand -pointed towards the moonlit valley. “They stand ready. The air is -breaking and the fire burns. Then where is _he?_ I called him.” - -And Julius, looking from her face to mine, answered softly: “He -is beside you--close. He is ready with us too. But the appointed -time--the Equinox--is not quite yet.” - -The pointing hand sank slowly to her side. She turned her face towards -me and she--saw. The gaze fell full upon my own, the stately head -inclined a little. We both advanced; she took my outstretched hand, and -at the touch a shock as of wind and fire seemed to drive against me -with almost physical violence. I heard her voice. - -“Silvatela--we meet--again!” Her eyes ran over in a smile of -recognition as the old familiar name came floating to me through the -little room. But for the firm clasp of her hand I should have dropped, -for there was a sudden weakness in my knees, and my senses reeled a -moment. “We meet again,” she repeated, while her splendid gaze held -mine, “yet to you it is a dream. Memory in you lies unawakened still. -And the fault is ours.” - -She turned to Julius; she took his hand too; we stood linked together -thus; and she smiled into her husband’s eyes. “His memory,” she said, -“is dim. He has forgotten that we wronged him. Yet forgiveness is in -his soul that only half remembers.” And the man who was her husband of -To-day said low in answer: “He forgives and he will help us now. His -love forgives. The delay we caused his soul he may forget, but to the -Law there is no forgetting possible. We must--we shall--repay.” - -The clasp of our hands strengthened; we stood there linked together by -the chain of love both past and present that knows neither injustice -nor forgetting. - -Then, with the words, as also with the clasping hands that joined us -into one, some pent up barrier broke down within my soul, and a flood -of light burst over me within that made all things for a moment clear. -There came a singular commotion of the moonlit air outside the window, -as if the tide that brimmed the valley overflowed and poured about us -in the room. I stood transfixed and speechless before the certainty -that Nature, in the guise of two great elements, flooded in and shared -our passionate moment of recognition. A blinding confusion of times and -places struggled for possession of me. For a tempest of memories surged -past, driven tumultuously by sheeted flame and rushing wind. The inner -hurricane lasted but a second. It rose, it fell, it passed away. I was -aware that I saw down into deep, prodigious depths as into a pool of -water, crystal clear; veil lifted after veil; memory revived. - -I shuddered; for it seemed my present self slipped out of sight while -this more ancient consciousness usurped its place. My little modern -confidence collapsed; the mind that doubts and criticises, but never -knows, fell back into its smaller rôle. The sum-total that was Me -remembered and took command. And realising myself part of a living -universe, I answered her: - -“With love and sympathy,” I uttered in no uncertain tones, “and with -complete forgiveness too.” - -In that little bedroom of a mountain châlet, lit by the moon and -candle-light, we stood together, our bodies joined by the clasp of -hands, and our ancient souls united in a single purpose. - -I looked into the eyes of this great woman, imperially altered in her -outward aspect, magnificent in the towering soul of her; I looked at -Julius, stately as some hierophantic figure who mastered Nature by -comprehending her; I felt their hands, his own firm and steady, hers -clasping softly, tenderly, yet with an equal strength; and I realised -that I stood thus between them, not merely in this isolated mountain -valley, but in the full tide of life whose source rose in the fountains -of an immemorial past, Nature and human-nature linked together in a -relationship that was a practical reality. Our three comrade-souls -were re-united in an act of restitution; sharing, or about to share, a -ceremony that had cosmic meaning. - -And the beauty of the woman stole upon my heart, bringing the -loveliness of the universe, while Julius brought its strength. - -“This time,” I said aloud, “you shall not fail. I am with you both in -sympathy, forgiveness,--love.” - -Their hands increased the pressure on my own. - -Her eyes held mine as she replied: “This duty that we owe to Nature and -to you--so long--so long ago.” - -“To me----?” I faltered. - -With shining eyes, and a smile divinely tender, she answered: “Love -shall repay. We have delayed you by our deep mistake.” - -“We shall undo the wrong we worked upon you,” I heard Julius say. “We -stole the channel of your body. And we failed.” - -“My love and sympathy are yours,” I repeated, as we drew closer still -together. “I bear you no ill-will....” - -And then she continued gravely, but ever with that solemn beauty -lighting up her face: - -“Oh, Silvatela, it seems so small a thing in the long, long journey of -our souls. We were too ambitious only. The elemental Powers we tried to -summon through your vacated body are still unhoused. The fault was not -yours; it was our ambition and our faithlessness. I loved you to your -undoing--you sacrificed yourself so willingly, loving me, alas, too -well. The failure came. Instead of becoming as the gods, we bear this -burden of a mighty debt. We owe it both to you and to the universe. -Fear took us at the final moment--and you returned too soon--robbed -of the high teaching that was yours by right, your progress delayed -thereby, your memory clouded _now_....” - -“My development took another turning,” I said, hardly knowing whence -the knowledge came to me, “no more than that. It was for love of -you that I returned too soon--the fault was mine. It was for the -best--there has been no real delay.” But there mingled in me a memory -both clouded and unclouded. There was a confusion beyond me to unravel. -I only knew our love was marvellous, although the fuller motives -remained entangled. “It is all forgiven,” I murmured. - -“Your forgiveness,” she answered softly, “is of perfect love. We loved -each other then--nor have we quite forgotten now. This time, at -least, we shall ensure success. The Powers stand ready, waiting; we -are united; we shall act as one. At the Equinox we shall restore the -balance; and memory and knowledge shall be yours a hundredfold at last.” - -The voice of Julius interrupted, though so low it was scarcely audible: - -“I offer myself. It is just and right, not otherwise. The risk must -be all mine. Once accomplished”--he turned to me with power in his -face--“we shall provide you with the privilege you lost through us. Our -error will then be fully expiated and the equilibrium restored. It is -an expiation and a sacrifice. Nature in this valley works with us now, -and behind it is the universe--all, all aware....” - -It seemed to me she leaped at him across the space between us. Our -hands released. Perhaps, with the breaking of our physical contact, -some measure of receptiveness went out of me, or it may have been the -suddenness of the unexpected action that confused me. I no longer fully -understood. Some bright clear flame of comprehension wavered, dimmed, -went out in me. Even the words that passed between them then I did -not properly catch. I saw that she clasped him round the neck while -she uttered vehement words that he resisted, turning aside as with -passionate refusal. It was--this, at least, I grasped before the return -of reason in me broke our amazing union and left confusion in the -place of harmony--that each one sought to take the risk upon himself, -herself. The channel of evocation--a human system--I dimly saw, was the -offering each one burned to make. The risk, in some uncomprehended way, -was grave. And I stepped forward, though but half understanding what -it was I did. I offered, to the best of my memory and belief--offered -myself as a channel, even as I had offered or permitted long ago in -love for her. - -For I had discerned the truth, and knew deep suffering, nor cared what -happened to me. It was the older Self in her that gave me love, while -her self of To-day--the upper self--loved Julius. Mine was the old -subconscious love unrecognised by her normal self; the love of the -daily, normal self was his. - - * * * * * - -The look upon their faces stopped me. They moved up closer, taking -my hands again. The moonlight fell in a silver pool upon the wooden -flooring just between us; it clothed her white-clad figure with its -radiance; it shone reflected in the eyes of Julius. I heard the -tinkling of the little stream outside, beginning its long journey to -an earthly sea. The nearer pine trees rustled. And _her_ voice came -with this moonlight, wind and water, as though the quiet night became -articulate. - -“So great is your forgiveness, so deep our ancient love,” she murmured. -And while she said it, both he and she together made the mightiest -gesture I have ever seen upon small human outlines--a gesture of -resignation and refusal that yet conveyed power as though a forest -swayed or some great sea rolled back its flood. There was this sublime -suggestion in the wordless utterance by which they made me know my -offering was impossible. For Nature behind both of them said also No.... - -Then, with a quiet motion that seemed gliding rather than the taking -of actual steps, her figure withdrew slowly towards the door. Her -face turned from me as when the moon slips down behind a cloud. Erect -and stately, as though a marble statue passed from my sight by some -interior motion of its own, her figure entered the zone of shadow just -beyond the door. The sound of her feet upon the boards was scarcely -audible. The narrow passage took her. She was gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -I stood alone with Julius, Nature alive and stirring strangely, as with -aggressive power, just beyond the narrow window-sill on which he leaned. - -“You understand,” he murmured, “and you remember too--at last.” - -I made no reply. There are moments when extraordinary emotions, -beyond expression either of tears or laughter, move the heart as -with the glory of another world. And one of these was certainly -upon me now. I knew things that I did not understand. A pageant of -incomparable knowledge went past me, yet, as it were, just out of -reach. The memories that offered themselves were too enormous--and too -different--to be grasped intelligently by the mind. - -And yet one thing I realised clearly: that the elemental powers of -Nature already existing in every man and woman in small degree, could -know an increase, an intensification, which, directed rightly, might -exalt humanity. The consciousness of those olden days knew direct -access to Nature. And the method, for which no terms exist To-day -in any spoken language, was that _feeling-with_ which is adoration, -and that desiring sympathy which is worship. The script of Nature -wrote it clear. To read it was to act it out. The audacity of their -fire-stealing ambition in the past I understood, and so forgave. My -memory, further than this, refused to clear.... - -I remember that we talked together for a space; and it was longer than -I realised at the time, for before we separated the moon was down -behind the ridges and the valley lay in a single blue-black shadow. -There was confusion on my heart and mind. The self in me that asked -and answered seemed half of To-day and half of Yesterday. - -“She remembered,” Julius said below his breath yet with deep delight; -“she recognised us both. In the morning she will have again forgotten, -for she knows not how to bring the experiences of deep sleep over into -her upper consciousness.” - -“She said ‘they waited.’ There are--others--in this valley?” It was -more a statement to myself than a question, but he answered it: - -“Everywhere and always there are others. But just now in this valley -they are near to us and active. I have sent out the call.” - -“You have sent out the call,” I repeated without surprise and yet -with darkened meaning. “Yes, I knew--I was aware of it.” My older -consciousness was sinking down again. - -“By worship,” he interrupted, “the worship of many weeks. We have -worshipped and felt-with, intensifying the link already established -by those who lived before us here. Your attitude is also worship. -Together we shall command an effective summons that cannot fail. -Already they are aware of us, and at the Equinox their powers will come -close--closer than love or hunger.” - -“In ourselves,” I muttered. “Aware of their activities in ourselves!” - -And my mouth went suddenly dry as I heard his quiet answer: - -“We shall feel their immense activities in ourselves as they return to -their appointed places whence we first evoked them. Through one of our -three bodies they must pass--the bodiless ones.” A silence fell between -us. The blood beat audibly in my ears like drums. - -“They need a body--again?” I whispered. - -He bowed his head. “The channel, as before,” he whispered with deep -intensity, “of a human organism--a brain, a mind, a body.” And, seeing -perhaps that I stared with a bewilderment half fear and half refusal, -he added quietly, “In the raw, they are too vast for human use, their -naked, glassy essence impossible to hold. They must mingle first -with our own smaller powers that are akin to them, and thus take on -that restraint which enables the human will to harness their colossal -strength. Alone I could not accomplish this, but with the three of us, -merged by our love into a single unit----” - -“But the risk--you both spoke of----?” I asked it impatiently, yet it -was only a thick whisper that I heard. - -There was a little pause before he answered me. - -“There are two risks,” he said with utmost gravity in his voice and -face. “The descent of such powers _may_ cause a shattering of the -one on whom they first arrive--he is the sacrifice. My death--any -consequent delay--might thus be the expiation I offer in the act of -their release. That is the first, the lesser risk.” - -He paused, then added: “But I shall not fail.” - -“And--should you----!” My voice had dwindled horribly. - -“The Powers, once summoned, would--automatically--seek another channel: -the channel for their return--in case I failed. That is the second and -the greater risk.” - -“Your wife?” The words came out with such difficulty that they were -scarcely audible. But Julius heard them. - -He shook his head. “For herself there is no danger,” he answered. “My -love of to-day, and yours of yesterday protect her. Nor has it anything -to do with you,” he added, seeing the touch of fear that flashed -from my eyes beyond my power to conceal it. “The Powers, deprived -of my control in the case of my collapse beneath the strain, would -follow the law of their own beings automatically. They would seek the -easiest channel they could find. They would follow the line of least -resistance.” - -And, realising that it was the other human occupant of the house he -meant, I experienced a curious sensation of pity and relief; and with -a hint of grandeur in my thought, I knew with what fine pathetic -willingness, with what whole-hearted simplicity of devotion, this -faithful “younger soul” would offer himself to help in so big a -purpose--if he understood. - -It was with an appalling shock that I realised my mistake. Julius, -watching me closely, divined my instant thought. He made a gesture of -dissent. To my complete amazement, I saw him shake his head. - -“An empty and deserted organism, as yours was at the time we used -it for our evocation,” he said slowly; “an organism unable to offer -resistance owing to its being unoccupied--that is the channel, if it -were available, which they would take. When the soul is out--or _not -yet--in_.” - -We gazed fixedly at one another for a time I could not measure. I knew -his awful meaning. For to me, in that first moment of comprehension, it -seemed too terrible, too incredible for belief. I staggered over to the -open window. Julius came after me and laid his hand upon my shoulder. - -“The body is but the instrument,” I heard him murmur; “the vehicle of -the soul that uses it. Only at the moment of birth does a soul move in -to take possession. The parents provide it, helpless and ignorant as to -who eventually shall take command. And if this thing happened--though -the risk is small----” - -I turned and faced him as he stopped. - -“A monster!” - -“An elemental being, a child of the elements----” - -“Non-human?” I gasped. - -“Nature and human-nature linked,” he replied with curious reverence. “A -cosmic being born in a human body. Only---- I shall not fail.” - -And before I could find another word to utter, or even acknowledge -the quick pressure of his hand upon my own, I heard his step upon the -passage boards, and found myself alone again. I stood by the open -window, gazing into the deep, star-lit sky above this mountain valley -on our little, friendly Earth, prey to emotions that derived from -another, but forgotten planet--emotions, therefore, that no “earthly” -words can attempt to fathom or describe.... - - - - -Book IV - -THE ATTEMPTED RESTITUTION - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - “_Let us consider_ wisdom _first_. - - “_Can we be wiser by reason of something which we have forgotten? - Unquestionably we can.... A man who dies after acquiring - knowledge--and all men acquire some--might enter his new life, - deprived indeed of his knowledge, but not deprived of the - increased strength and delicacy of mind which he had gained in - acquiring the knowledge. And if so, he will be wiser in the - second life because of what has happened in the first._ - - “_Of course he loses something in losing the actual knowledge.... - But ... is not even this loss really a gain? For the mere - accumulation of knowledge, if memory never ceased, would soon - become overwhelming, and worse than useless. What better fate - would we wish for than to leave such accumulations behind us, - preserving their greatest value in the_ mental faculties _which - have been strengthened by their acquisition_.”--J. M’Taggart. - - -As I sit here in the little library of my Streatham house, trying to -record faithfully events of so many years ago, I find myself at a point -now where the difficulty well-nigh overwhelms me. For what happened in -that valley rises before me now as though it had been some strange and -prolonged enchantment; it comes back to me almost in the terms of dream -or vision. - -If it be possible for a man to enjoy two states of consciousness -simultaneously, then that possibility was mine. I know not. I can -merely state that at the time my normal consciousness seemed replaced -by another mode, another order, that usurped it, and that this usurping -consciousness was incalculably older than anything known to men to-day; -further, also, that the three of us had revived it from some immemorial -pre-existence. It was memory. - -Thus it seemed to me at the time; thus, therefore, I must record it. -And so completely was the change effected in me that belief came with -it. In no one of us, indeed, lay the slightest hint of doubt. What -happened must otherwise have been the tawdriest superstition, whereas -actually there was solemnity in it, even grandeur. The performance -our sacramental attitude of mind made holy, was true with the reality -of an older time when Nature-Worship was effective in some spiritual -sense far beyond what we term animism in our retrospective summary of -the past. We did, each one of us, and in more or less degree, share -the life of Nature by the inner process of feeling-with that life. -Her natural forces augmented us indubitably--there was intelligent -co-operation. - -To-day, of course, the forces in humanity drive in quite another -direction; Nature is inanimate and Pan is dead; another attitude -obtains--thinking, not feeling, is our ideal; men’s souls are scattered -beyond the hope of unity and the sword of formal creeds sharply -separates them everywhere. We regard ourselves proudly as separate -from Nature. Yet, even now, as I struggle to complete this record in -the suburban refuge my old age has provided for me, I seem aware of -changes stealing over the face of the world once more. Like another -vast dream beginning, I feel, perhaps, that man’s consciousness is -slowly spreading outwards once again; it is re-entering Nature, too, -in various movements; the wireless note is marvellously sounding; on -all sides singular phenomena that _seem_ new suggest that there is no -limit--to extension of consciousness--to interior human activity. Some -voice from the long ago is divinely trumpeting across our little globe. - -This, possibly, is an old man’s dream. Yet it helps me vaguely to -understand how, in that enchanted valley, the three of us may actually -have realised another, older point of view which amounted even to a -different type of consciousness. The slight analogy presents itself; -I venture to record it. Only on some such supposition could I, a -normal, commonplace product of the day, have consented to remain -in the valley without repugnance and distress, much less to have -participated willingly as I did in all that happened. For I was almost -whole-heartedly in and of it. My moments of criticism emerged, but -passed. I saw existence from some cosmic point of view that presented -a human life as an insignificant moment in an eternal journey that was -related both to the armies of the stars and to the blades of grass -along the small, cool rivulet. At the same time this vast perspective -lifted each tiny detail into a whole that inspired these details with -sacramental value whose meaning affected everything. To live _with_ -the universe made life the performance of a majestic ceremony; to live -against it was to creep aside into a _cul de sac_. And so this small -item of balance we three, as a group, desired to restore was both an -insignificant and a mighty act of worship. - -Yet, whereas to myself the happenings were so intense as to seem -terrific even, to one who had not _felt_ them--as I did--they must seem -hardly events or happenings at all. I say “felt,” because my perception -of what occurred was “feeling” more than anything else. I enjoyed this -other mode of existence known to the human spirit in an earlier day, -and brought, apparently, to earth from our experience upon another -planet. - -The happenings, to me, seemed momentous--yet they consisted largely of -interior changes. They were inner facts. And such inner facts “To-day” -regards as less real than outer events, dismissing them as subjective. -The collapse of a roof is real, the perception of an eternal verity is -a mood! And if my attempt to describe halts between what is alternately -bald and overstrained, it is because modern words can only stammer in -dealing with experiences that have so entirely left the racial memory. - -For myself the test of their actuality lies in the death that -resulted--an indubitable fact at any rate!--and in the birth that -followed it a little later--another unquestionable “fact.” - -I may advantageously summarise the essential gist of the entire matter. -I would do so for this reason: that physical memory grows dim on -looking back so many years and that the events in the châlet grow more -and more elusive, so that I find a sharp general outline helpful to -guide me in this subsequent record. Further, the portion I am now about -to describe depends wholly upon a yet older memory, the memory--as it -seemed to me--of thousands of years ago. This more ancient memory came -partially to me only. I saw much I could not understand or realise, -and so can merely report baldly. There was fluctuation. Perhaps, after -all, my earlier consciousness was never restored with sufficient -completeness to reconstitute the entire comprehension that had belonged -to it when it was my _natural_ means of perceiving, knowing, being. -Words, therefore, obviously fail. - -Let me say then, as Julius himself might have said, that in some far -off earlier existence the three of us had offended a cosmic law, and -that for the inevitable readjustment of this error, its expiation, the -three of us must first of all find ourselves reincarnated once again -together. This, after numerous intervening centuries, had come to pass. - -The nature of the offence seemed crudely this: that, in the days -when elemental Nature-Powers were accessible to men, we used two of -these--those operating behind wind and fire--for selfish instead of -for racial purposes. Apparently they had been evoked by means of a -human body which furnished their channel of approach. It was available -because untenanted, as already described. I state merely the belief and -practice of an earlier day. Special guardians protected the vacated -bodies from undesirable invasion, and while Julius and the woman -performed this duty, they had been tempted to unlawful use for purposes -of their own. The particular body was my own: I was the channel of -evocation. That I had, however, been persuaded to permit such usage was -as certain as that it was the love between the woman and myself that -was the reason of such permission. How and why I cannot state, because, -simply, I could not--remember. But that the failure of their experiment -resulted in my sudden recall into the body, and the loss, therefore, -of teaching and knowledge I should have otherwise enjoyed--this had -delayed my soul’s advance and explained also why, To-day, memory -failed in me and my soul had lagged behind in its advance. Somewhat in -this way LeVallon stated it. - -Where this ancient experiment took place, in what country and age, I -cannot pretend to affirm. The knowledge made use of, however, seems to -have been, in its turn, a yet earlier memory still, and of an existence -upon a planet nearer to the sun, since Fire and Wind were there -recognised as a means by which deific Powers became accessible--through -worship. That the human spirit was then clothed in bodies of lighter -mould, and that Wind and Fire were viewed as manifestations of deity, -turns my imagination, if not my definite memory, to a planet like -Mercury, where gigantic Heat and therefore mighty Winds would be -imposing vehicles of conveying energy from their source--the Sun. - -For the expiation of the error, a re-enactment of the actual scene of -its committal was necessary. It must be acted out to be effective--a -ceremony. The channel, again, of a human system was essential as -before. The struggles that eventually ensued, complicated by the stress -of personal emotion--the individual attempts each participator made -to become the channel and so the possible sacrifice--this caused, -apparently, the awful failure. Emotion destroyed the unity of the -group. For Julius was unable to direct the Powers evoked. They were -compelled to seek a channel elsewhere, and they automatically availed -themselves of that which offered the least resistance. The birth -that subsequently followed, accordingly, was a human body informed -literally by these two elemental Powers; and it is in the hope that of -those who chance to read these notes, someone may perhaps be aware of -the existence in the world of this unique being--it is in this hope -primarily, I say, that the record I have attempted is made, that it may -survive my death which cannot now be very long delayed. - -One word more, however, I am compelled to add: - -I am aware that my so easy surrender to the spell of LeVallon’s -personality and ideas must seem difficult to justify. Even those of my -intimates, who may read this record after I am gone, may feel that my -capitulation was due to what men now term hypnotic influence; whereas, -that some part of me accepted with joy and welcome is the actual -truth--it was some lesser part that objected and disapproved. - -To myself, as to those few who may find these notes, I owe this -somewhat tardy confession of personal bias. That I have concealed it -in this Record hitherto seems because my “educated” self must ever -struggle to deny it. - -For there have always been two men in me--more than in the usual sense -of good and evil. One, up to date and commonplace, enjoys the game of -nineteenth century life, interests itself in motors, telephones, and -mechanical progress generally, finds Socialism intriguing and even -politics absorbing; while the other, holding all that activity of which -such things are symbols, in curious contempt, belongs to the gods alone -know what. It remains essentially inscrutable, incalculable, its face -masked by an indecipherable smile. It worships the sun, believes in -Magic, accepts the influences of the stars, and acknowledges with sweet -reverence extended hierarchies of Beings, both lower and higher than -the stage at which humanity now finds itself. - -In youth, of course, this other self was stronger than in later years; -yet, though submerged, it has never been destroyed. It seemed an -older aspect of my divided being that declined to die. For periods of -varying duration, the modern part would deny it as the superstition of -primitive animistic ignorance; but, biding its time, it would rise to -the surface and take the reins again. The modern supremacy passed, the -older attitude held authoritative sway. The Universe then belonged to -it, alive in every detail; there was communion with trees and winds -and streams; the thrill of night became articulate; it was concerned -with distant stars; the sun changed the earth once more into a vast -temple-floor. I was not apart from any item, large or small, on earth -or in the heavens, while myth and legend, poetry and folk-lore were -but the broken remnants of a once extended faith, a mighty worship that -was both of God and knew the gods. - -At such times the drift of modern life seemed in another--a -minor--direction altogether. The two selves in me could not mingle, -could not even compromise. The recent one seemed trivial, but the older -one pure gold. It dwelt, this latter, in loneliness, sweetly-prized, -perhaps, but isolated from all minds of to-day worth knowing, -because its mode of being was not theirs. A loneliness, however, not -intolerable, since it was aware of lifting joy, of power no mere -contrivance could conceive, and of a majestic beauty nothing of -to-day could even simulate.... Societies, moreover, called secret, -fraternities labelled magical and hierophantic, were all too trumpery -to feed its ancient longings, too charlatan to offer it companionship, -too compromising to obtain results. Among modern conditions I found no -mode of life that answered to its imperious call in me. It seemed an -echo and a memory. - -As I grew older, both science and religion told me it must be denied. -Respectful of the former, I sought some reasonable basis for these -strange burning beliefs that flamed up with this older self--in -vain. Unjustifiable, according to all knowledge at my disposal, they -remained. History went back step by step to that darkness whence -ignorance emerged; evolution traced a gradual rise from animal -conditions; to no dim, former state of exalted civilisation, either -remembered or imagined, could this deeper part of me track its home -and origin. Yet that home, that origin, I felt, existed, and were -accessible. I could no more resign their actuality than I could cease -to love, to hate, to live. The mere thought of them woke emotions -independent of my will, contemptuous of my intellect--emotions that -were of indubitable reality. They remained convictions. - -Had I, then, known some state antedating history altogether, some -unfabled land of which storied Atlantis, itself a fragment, lingered -as a remnant of some immenser life? Had I experienced a mode of being -less cabined than the one I now experienced in a body of blood and -flesh--another order of consciousness, yet identity retained--upon -another star? ... The centuries geology counts backwards were but -moments, the life of a planet only a little instant in the universal -calendar. Was there, a million years ago, a civilisation of another -kind, too ethereal to leave its signatures in sand and rocks, yet in -its _natural_ simplicity nearer, perhaps, to deity? Was here the origin -of my unrewarded yearnings? Could reincarnation, casting back across -the æons to lovelier or braver planets, give the clue? And did this -older self trail literally clouds of glory from a golden age of light -and heat and splendour that lay nearer to the shining centre of our -corner of the heavens...? - -At intervals I flung my queries like leaves upon the wind; and the -leaves came back to me upon the wind. I found no answer. Speculation -became gradually less insistent, though the yearnings never died. -Deeper than doubt or question, they seemed ingrained--that my -pre-existence has been endless, that I continue always.... And it -was this strange, buried self in me, already beginning to fade a -little when I went to Motfield Close to train my modern mind in -modern knowledge--it was this curious older self that Julius LeVallon -vitalised anew. Back came the flood of mighty questions:--Whence have -we come? From what dim corner of the unmeasured cosmos are we derived, -descended, making our little way on to the earth? Where have these -hints of an immenser life their sweet, terrific origin, and--why this -unbridged hiatus in our memory...? - - * * * * * - -The subsequent events lie somewhat confused in me until the night that -heralded the Equinox. Whether two days or three intervened between the -night-scene of Mrs. LeVallon’s Older Self already described, and the -actual climax, I cannot remember clearly. The sequence of hours went -so queerly sliding; incidents of external kind were so few that the -interval remained unmarked; little happened in the sense of outward -happenings on which the mind can fasten by way of measurement. We -lived, it seems, so close to Nature that those time-divisions we call -hours and days flowed _with_ us in a smooth undifferentiated stream. I -think we were too much in Nature to observe the size or length of any -particular parcels. We just flowed forward with the tide itself. Yet to -explain this, now that for years I am grown normal and ordinary again, -is hardly possible. I only remember that larger scale; I can no longer -realise it. - -I recall, however, the night of that conversation when Julius left -me to my hurricane of thoughts and feelings, and think I am right in -saying it immediately preceded the September day that ushered in the -particular “attitude” of our earth towards the rest of the Universe we -call the Autumnal Equinox. - -Sleep and resistance were equally impossible; I swam with an enormous -current upon a rising tide. And this tide bore stars and worlds within -its irresistible momentum. It bore also little flowers; moisture felt, -before it is seen, as dew or rain; heat that is latent before the -actual flame is visible; and air that lies everywhere until the rush of -wind insists on recognition. I was aware of a prophecy that included -almost menace. An uneasy sense that preparations of immense, portentous -character were incessantly in progress, not in the house and in -ourselves alone, but in the entire sweep of forest, vale and mountain, -pressed upon me from all sides. Nature conspired, I felt, through her -most usual channels to drive into a corner where she would drip over, -so to speak, into amazing manifestation. And that corner, waiting and -inviting, was ourselves.... - -Towards morning I fell asleep, and when I woke a cloudless day lay -clear and fresh upon the world, the meadows shone with dew, cobwebs -shimmered past my open window, and a keen breeze from the heights -stung my nostrils with the scent from miles of forest. A sparkling -vitality poured almost visibly with the air and sunshine into my -human blood. I bathed and dressed. Frost had laid silvery fingers -upon the valley during the night, and the shadows beneath the woods -still shone in white irregular patches of a pristine loveliness. The -feeling that Nature brimmed over was even stronger than before, and -I went downstairs half conscious that the “corner” we prepared would -show itself somehow fuller, _different_. The little arena waiting for -it--that arena occupied by our human selves--would proclaim the risen -tide. I almost expected to find Julius and his wife expressing in -their physical persons the advent of this power, their very bodies, -gestures, voices increased and grown upon a larger scale. And when I -met them at the breakfast table, two normal, ordinary persons, merely -full of the exhilarating autumn morning, I knew a moment of surprise -that at the same time included relief, though possibly, too, a touch of -disappointment. They were both so simple and so natural. - -It brought me up short, as though before a promised hope not justified, -a balked anticipation. But the next moment my mistake was clear. The -sense of something dwindled gave place to its very opposite--a fuller -realisation. The three of us were so intimate--I might say so divinely -intimate--that my failure to see them “grander” arose from my attempt -to see them “separate”--from myself. For actually we floated, all -three, upon the risen tide together. It was the “mind” in me that -sounded the old false note. Having increased like themselves, I was of -equal stature with them; to see them “different” was impossible. - -And this amazing quality was characteristic of all that followed. -Ever since my arrival I had been slowly rising with the tide that -brimmed the valley now to the very lips of the surrounding mountains. -It brimmed our hearts as well. My companions were quiet because they, -like myself, were part of it. There was no sense of disproportion or -exaggeration, much less of dislocation; we shared Nature’s powers -without effort, without struggle, as naturally as sunshine, wind or -rain. We stood within; the day contained all three. The Ceremony, -which was living-with Nature, tuned to the universal life, had been -in progress from the instant Julius had welcomed me a week ago. Our -attitude and the earth’s were one. The Equinox was in us too. - -In that moment when we met at breakfast, the flash of clearer sight -left all this beyond dispute. Memory shot back in a lightning glance -over recent sensations and events. I realised my gradual growth into -the larger scale, I grasped the significance of the various moods and -tenses my changing consciousness had known as in a kind of initiation. -Premonitions of another mode of mind had stolen upon me out of ordinary -things. The habitual had revealed its marvellous hidden beauty. -There had been transmutation. The ensouling life behind broke loose -everywhere, even through the elements themselves: but particularly -through the two of them that are so closely levelled to the little -division we call human life: air-things and fire-things had become -alert and eager. There was commotion in the palaces of Wind and Fire. - -And so the bigger truth explained itself to me. What happened later -seems only incredible on looking back at it from my present dwindled -consciousness. At the time it was natural and quiet. A tourist, passing -through our lonely valley, need not have been aware either of tumult -or of wonder. He would have been too remote from us, too centred in -the consciousness of To-day that accepts only what is expected, or -explicable--too different, in a word, to have noticed anything beyond -the presence of three strangely quiet people in a lonely châlet of the -mountains. - -But for us, the gamut of experience had stretched; there was in our -altered state both a microscope and telescope; but a casual intruder, -unprovided with either, must have gone his way, I think, unaware, -unstimulated, and uninformed. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - - “_With virtue the point is perhaps clearer.... I have forgotten - the greater number of the good and evil acts which I have done - in my present life. And yet each must have left a trace on my - character. And so a man may carry over into his next life the - dispositions and tendencies which he has gained by the moral - contests of this life, and the value of those experiences will - not have been destroyed by the death which has destroyed the - memory of them._”--Ibid. - - -The day that followed lives with me still as an experience of paradise -beyond intelligible belief. Yet I unquestionably experienced it. The -touch of dread was but the warning of the little mind, which shrank -from a joy too vast for it to comprehend. Of Mrs. LeVallon this -was similarly true. Julius alone, sure and steadfast in the state -from which since early boyhood he had never lapsed, combined Reason -and Intuition in that perfect achievement towards which humanity -perhaps slowly seems moving now. He remained an image of strength -and power; he lived in full consciousness what she and I lived half -unconsciously. Yet to record the acts and words which proved it I find -now stammeringly difficult; they were so ordinary. The point of view -which revealed their “otherness” I have so wholly lost. - -“The Equinox comes to-night--the pause in Nature,” he said at -breakfast, joy in his voice and eyes. “We shall have greater life. The -moment is ours, because we know how to use it.” Yet what pregnant truth -came with the quiet words, what realisation of simple, overflowing -beauty, what incalculable power, no language known to me can possibly -express. - -And his wife, equally, was aglow with happiness and splendour as of a -forgotten age. In myself, too, remained no vestige of denial or alarm. -The day seemed a long, sweet period without divisions, a big, simple -sacrament of unconditioned bliss. Memory came back upon me in a flood, -yet a memory of states, and never once of scenes or places. I re-lived -a time, a state, when men knew greater purposes than they realised, -dimly and instinctively perhaps, not blindly altogether, yet taught of -Nature and the Nature Powers close upon their daily lives. They knew -these Powers direct, experiencing them, existing side by side with them -in definite mutual relationship. They neither reasoned nor, possibly, -even thought. They knew. - -For my nature was no longer in opposition to the rest of things, nor -set over against the universe, as apart from it. I felt my acts related -in a vital manner to the planet, as to the entire cosmos, and the -elemental side of Nature moved alongside of my most trivial motions. -The drift of happenings, in things “external” to me, were related to -that drift of inner sensation that I called myself. Thoughts, desires, -emotions found themselves completed in trees and grass, in rocks and -flowers, in the flowing rivulet, in the whir of wind, the drip of -water, the fire of the sunshine. They told me things about myself; -they revealed a pregnant story of information by their attitudes and -aspects; they were related to my very fate and character. The sublime -simplicity of it lies beyond description. For this sacramental tone -changed ordinary daily life into something splendid as eternity. I -shared the elemental power of “inanimate” things. They affected me -and I affected them. The Universe itself, but especially the known -and friendly Earth, was hand in hand and arm in arm with me. It was -feeling-with; it was the cosmic point of view. - -And thus, I suppose, it was that I realised humanity as but a little -portion of the whole--important, of course, as the animalculæ in a drop -of water are important, yet living towards extinction only if they -live apart from the surrounding ocean which divinely mothers them. -To this divinity seemed due the presumption with which man To-day -imagines himself the centre of this colossal ocean, and lays down the -law so insolently for the entire Universe. The birth of a soul--its -few years of gaining experience in a material form called body--was -vital certainly for itself, yet whether that body should be informed -by a “human” soul, or by another type of life of elemental kind--this, -seen in proportion to the gigantic scale of universal life, left me -unshocked and undismayed. To provide a body for any life was a joy, a -proud delight, a duty to the whole, but whether Mrs. LeVallon bore a -girl or a boy, or furnished a vehicle for some swift marvellous progeny -of another kind, seemed in no sense to offer an afflicting alternative. -My _present_ point of view may be imagined--the ghastliness and terror, -even the horror of it--but at the time I faced it otherwise, regarding -the possibility with a kind of reverent wonder only. It was not -terrible, but grand. - -The certainty of all this I realised at the time. I see it now less -vividly. The intensity has left me. So overwhelming was its perfection, -however, that, as I have said, the contingency to which Mrs. LeVallon, -as mother, was exposed, held no dire or unmoral suggestion for me, as -it now must hold. Nor did the correlative conditions appear otherwise -than true and possible. And that these two, Julius and his wife, -staked an entire lifetime to correct an error of the past, meant no -more--viewed in this vaster proportion--than if I ran upstairs to -close a door I had foolishly left open. An open door is a little -thing, yet may cause currents of air that can disarrange the harmony -of the objects in its path, upsetting the purpose and balance of the -entire household. It must be closed before the occupants of the house -can do their work effectively. They owe it to the house as well as to -themselves. There was this door left open. It must be closed. - -But it could not be closed by one. We three, a group, alone could -compass this small act. We who had opened it alone could close it. The -potential strength of three in one was the oldest formula of effective -power known to life. Such a group was capable of a claim on Nature -impossible to an individual--the method of evocation we had used -together in the long ago. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - - “_There remains love. The gain which the memory of the past - gives us here is that the memory of past love for any person can - strengthen our present love of him. And this is what must be - preserved if the value of past love is not to be lost. But love - has no end but itself. If it has gone, it helps us little that we - keep anything it has brought us...._ - - “_What more do we want? The past is not preserved separately in - memory, but it exists, concentrated and united in the present.... - If we still think that the past is lost, let us ask ourselves - whether we regard as lost all those incidents in a friendship - which, even before death, are forgotten._”--Ibid. - - -Here, then, as well as the mind in me can set it down, was the -background against which the various incidents of this final day -occurred. This was my “attitude” towards them; these thoughts and -feelings, though unexpressed in words, were the “mood” which accepted -and understood each slightest incident of those extraordinary hours. - -The length of the day amazed me; it seemed endless. Time went another -gait. The sequence of little happenings that marked its passage remains -blurred in the memory, and I look back to these with the curious -feeling that they happened all at once. Yet the strongest impression, -perhaps, is that time, the sense of duration, was arrested or at least -moved otherwise. There was a pause in Nature, the pause before the -approaching Equinox. A river halted a moment at the bend. And hence -came, of course, the sensation of pressure accumulating everywhere in -the valley. Acceleration would come afterwards, but first this wondrous -pause. - -And this pressure that brimmed the valley forced common details into -an uncommon view. The rising tide drove objects on the banks above -high-water mark. There was exhilaration without alarm, as when an -exceptional tide throws a full ocean into unaccustomed inlets. The -thrill was marvellous. The forest made response, offering its secret -things without a touch of fear ... as when the deer came out and grazed -upon the meadow before the châlet windows, not singly but in groups, -and invariably, I noticed, groups of three and three. We passed close -in and out among them; I stroked the thick rough hair upon their -flanks; I remember Mrs. LeVallon’s arm about their necks, and once in -particular, when she was lying down, that a fawn, no hint of fear in -its beautiful, gracious eyes, pushed her hair aside with its shining -muzzle to nibble the grass against her neck. The mood of an ancient and -divining prophecy lay in the sight, linking Nature with human-nature -in natural harmony when the lion and the lamb might play together, and -a little child might lead them. For--significant, arresting item--the -very air came sweetly down among us too, and the friendly intimacy of -the birds brought this exquisite touch of love into the entire day. -There was communion everywhere between our Selves and Nature. The -birds were in my room when I went upstairs, one hopping across the -pillow on my bed, its bright eyes shining as it perched an instant -on my shoulder, two others twittering and dancing along the narrow -window-sill. There was no fear in them; they fluttered here and there -at will, and my quickest movements caused them no alarm. From the -table they peeped up into my face; they were downstairs flitting in -and out among the chairs and sofas; they did not fly away when we came -in. And in threes I saw them, always in threes together. It was like -reading natural omens; I understood the significance that lay in omens; -and in this delightful sense, but in no other, these natural signs -were--ominous. - -Over the face of Nature, and in our hearts as well, lay everywhere -this attitude of divine carelessness. Everything felt-with everything -else, and all were neighbours. The ascension of the soul through all -the natural kingdoms seemed written clear upon the trees and rocks -and flowers, upon birds and animals, upon the huge, quiet elements -themselves. - -For the pause and stillness, these were ominous, too. This hush of -Nature upon the banks of Time, this beautiful though solemn pause upon -the heart of things, was but the presage of an accelerated rushing -forward that would follow it. The world halted and took breath. It was -the moment just before the leap. - -With midnight the climax would be reached--the timeless instant of -definite arrest, too brief, too swift for mechanism to record, the -instant when Julius would enforce his ancient claim. Then the impetuous -advance would be resumed, but resumed with the increased momentum, -moreover, of natural forces whose outward manifestation men call the -equinoctial gales. Those elemental disturbances, that din and riot in -the palaces of heat and air, of wind and fire--how little the sailors, -the men upon the heights, the dwellers in the streets of crowded -cities might guess the free divinity loose upon the earth behind the -hurricanes! The forgotten majesty of it broke in upon me as I realised -it. For realise it I most assuredly did. The channels here, indeed, -were open. - -There seemed a halo laid upon the day; sanctity and peace in all its -corners; the valley was a temple, the splendour of true old-world -worship ushering in the Equinox: Earth’s act of adoration to the sun, -the breathless moment when she sank upon her knees before her source of -life, her progeny aware, participating. - -For the joy and power that vibrated with every message of light and -sound about us came to me in the terms of love, as though a love -which broke all barriers down flowed in from Nature. It woke in me -an unmanageable, an infinite yearning; I burned to sweep all modern -life into this lonely mountain valley, to share its happiness with -the entire world; the tired ones, the sick and weary, the poor, those -who deem themselves outcast and useless in the scheme of things, -the lonely, the destitute in spirit, the failures, the wicked, and, -above all, the damned. For here all broken and shattered lives, it -seemed to me, must find that sense of wholeness which is confidence -and that peace due to the certainty of being cared for by the -universe--divinely mothered. The natural sacrament of elemental powers, -in its simplicity, could heal the nations. I yearned to bring humanity -into the power of Nature and the joy of Nature-Worship. - -So complete, moreover, was my inclusion in this sacramental attitude -towards Nature, that I saw the particular purpose for which we three -were here--as Julius saw it. I experienced a growing joy, an ever -lessening alarm. Three human souls met here upon this island of a -moment’s restitution, important certainly, yet after all an episode -merely, set between a series of lives long past and of countless -lives to follow after. The elements, and the Earth to which they -were consciously related, the Universe of which, with ourselves, she -formed an integral constituent--all were relatively and in their just -proportions involved in this act of restitution. Hence, in a dim way, -it was out of time and space. Our very acts and feelings were those of -Nature and of that vaster Whole, wherein Nature, herself but a little -item, lies secure. The Universe felt and acted with us. The gentian in -the field would be aware, but Sirius, too. - -Three human specks would act out certain things, but the wind in the -forest would co-operate and feel glad, and the fire in Orion’s nebula -would be aware. - -An older form of consciousness was operative. We were not separate. -Instead of _thinking_ as separate items apart from the rest of the -cosmos, we _felt_ as integral bits of it--and here, perhaps, lay the -essence of what I call another kind of consciousness than the one known -to-day. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - - -My mind retains with photographic accuracy the detail of that -sinister yet gorgeous night. One thing alone vitiates the value of my -report--while I remember what happened, I cannot remember _why_ it -happened. - -At the actual time, I understood the meaning of every word and -action because the power to do so was in me. I was in another state -of consciousness. That state has passed, and with it the ability to -interpret. I am in the position of a man who remembers clearly the -detail of some dream to which, on waking, he has lost the key. While -dreaming it, the meaning was daylight clear. The return to normal -consciousness has left him with a photograph he no longer can explain. - -The first tentative approach, however, of those Intelligences men call -Fire and Wind--their first contact with this other awakened Self in me, -I remember perfectly. Wind came first, then Fire; yet at first it was -merely that they made their presence known. I became aware of them. And -the natural, simple way in which this came about I may describe to some -extent perhaps. - -The ruins of a flaming sunset lay above the distant ridges when Julius -left my room, and, after locking away the private papers entrusted to -my charge, I stood for some time watching the coloured storm-clouds -hurrying across the sky. For, though the trees about the châlet were -motionless, a violent wind ran high overhead, and on the summits it -would have been impossible to stand. Round the building, however, -sunken in its protected valley, and within the walls especially, -reigned a still, delightful peace. The wind kept to the summits. But -of some Spirit of Wind I was aware long before the faintest movement -touched a single branch. - -Upon me then, gathering with steady power, stole the advance-guard of -these two invasions--air and warmth, yet an inner air, an inner warmth. -For, while I watched, the silence of those encircling forests conveyed -the sound and movement of approaching life. There grew upon me, first -as by dim and curious suggestion, a sense of ordered preparation -slowly accumulating behind the mass of shadowy trees. The picture -then sharpened into more definite outline. The forest was busy with -the stirrings of a million thread-like airs that built up together -the body of a rising wind, yet not of wind as commonly experienced, -but rather of some subtler, more acute activity of which wind is but -the outer vehicle. The inner activity, of which it is the sensible -manifestation--the body--was beginning to move. The soul of air itself -was stirring. These million ghost-like airs were lifting wings from -their invisible, secret lairs, all running as by a word of command -towards a determined centre whence, obeying a spiritual summons, they -would presently fall upon the valley in that sensible manifestation -called the equinoctial gales. Behind the material effect, the spiritual -Cause was active. - -This imaginative picture grew upon me, as though in some way I was -let into the inner being of that life which prompts all natural -movements and hides, securely veiled, in every stock and stone. A new -interpretative centre was awake in me. In the movement of wind I was -aware of--life. Then, while this subtle perception that an intelligent, -directing power lay behind the very air I breathed, a similar report -reached me from another, equally elemental, quarter, though it is less -easy to describe. - -From the sun? Originally, yes--since primarily from the sun emerges -all the heat the earth contains. It first stirred definite sensation -in me when my eye caught the final gleam upon the turreted walls of -vapour where still the sunset stood emblazoned. From that coloured sea -of light, and therefore of heat, something flashed in power through -me; a vision of running fire broke floodingly above the threshold of -my mind, ran into every corner of my being, left its inspiring trail, -became part of my very nerves and blood. Consciousness was deepened and -intensified. - -Yet it was neither common heat I felt nor common flame I pictured, -but rather a touch of that primordial and ethereal fire which dwells -at the heart of all manifested life--latent heat. For it was neither -yellow, red, nor white with any aspect of common flame, but what I can -only dare to describe as a fierce, dark splendour, black and shining, -yet of intense, incandescent brilliance. The contradictory adjectives -catch a ghost of it. Moreover, I was aware of no discomfort, for while -it threatened to overwhelm me, the chief effect was to leave a glow, a -radiance, an enthusiasm of strengthened will and confidence, combined -with a sense of lightning’s power. It was spiritual heat, of which fire -is but a physical vehicle. The central fire of the universe burned in -my heart. - -I realised, in a word, that both elements were vehicles of intelligent -and living Agencies. Of their own accord they became active, and -natural laws were but their method of activity. They were alert; the -valley was alive, combining, co-operating with myself--and taking -action. - -This was their first exquisite approach. But presently, when I moved -away from the window, the sunset clouds grown dark and colourless -again, I realised lesser manifestations of this new emotion which may -seem more intelligible when I set them down in words. The candle flame, -for instance, and the flaring match with which I lit my cigarette -seemed not so much to produce fire by a chemical device, as to puncture -holes through a curtain into that sea of latent fire that lies in all -material things. The breath of air, moreover, that extinguished the -flame did not annihilate it, but merged it into the essential being of -its own self. The two acted in sympathy together. Both Wind and Fire -drew attention to themselves of set intention, insisting upon notice, -as if inviting co-operation. - -And something leviathan leaped up in me to welcome them. The standing -miracle of fire lit up the darkened valley. Pure flame revealed itself -suddenly as the soul in me, the eternal part that remembered and grew -wise, the deathless part that survived all successive bodies. - -And I realised with a shock of comprehension the danger that Julius ran -in the evocation that his “experiment” involved: Fire, once kindled, -and aided naturally by air, must seek to destroy the prison that -confines it.... - -I remained for some time in my room. My will, my power of choice, -seemed taken from me. My life moved with these vaster influences. I -argued vehemently with some part of me that still offered a vague -resistance. It was the merest child’s play. I figured myself in my -London lecture room, explaining to my students the course and growth of -the delusion that had captured me. The result was futile; I convinced -neither my students nor myself. It was the thinking mind in me that -opposed, but it was another thing in me that _knew_, and this other -thing was enormously stronger than the reasoning mind, and overwhelmed -it. No amount of arguing could stand against the power of knowledge -that had become established in me by feeling-with. I felt-with Nature, -especially with her twin elemental powers of wind and fire. And this -wisdom of feeling-with dominated my entire being. Denial and argument -were merely false. - -All that evening this sense of the companionship of Wind and Fire -remained vividly assertive. Everywhere they moved about me. They -acted in concert, each assisting the other. I was for ever aware of -them; their physical manifestations were as great dumb gestures of -two living and intelligent Immensities in Nature. Yet it was only in -part, perhaps, I knew them. Their full, amazing power never came to -me completely. The absolute realisation that came to Julius in full -consciousness was not mine. I shared at most, it seems, a reflected -knowledge, seeing what happened as through some lens of half-recovered -memory. - - * * * * * - -Moreover, supper, when I came downstairs to find Julius and his wife -already waiting for me, was the most ordinary and commonplace meal -imaginable. We talked of the weather! Mrs. LeVallon was light-hearted, -almost gay, though I felt it was repressed excitement that drove -outwards this trivial aspect of her. But for the fact that all she -did now seemed individual and distinguished, her talk and gestures -might have scraped acquaintance with mere foolishness. Indeed, our -light talk and her irresponsibility added to the sense of reality I -have mentioned. It was a mask, and the mask dropped occasionally with -incongruous abruptness that was startling. - -Such insignificant details revealed the immediate range of the Powers -that watched and waited close beside our chairs. That sudden, fixed -expression in her eyes, for instance, when the Man brought in certain -private papers, handed them to Julius who, after reading them, -endorsed them with a modern fountain pen, then passed them on to me! -That fountain pen and her accompanying remark--how incongruous and -insignificant they were! Both seemed symbolical items in some dwindled, -trivial scale of being! - -“It isn’t everybody that’s got a professor for a secretary, Julius, is -it?” - -She said it with her mouth full, her elbows on the table, and only -that other look in the watchful eyes seemed to contradict the -awkward, untaught body. There was a flash of tenderness and passion -in them, a pathetic questioning and wonder, as though she saw in her -husband’s act an acknowledgment of dim forebodings in her own deep -heart. She appealed, it seemed, to me. Was it that she divined he -was already slipping from her, farewells all unsaid, yet that she -was--inarticulate? ... The entire little scene, the words, the laughter -and the look, were but evidence of an attempt to lift the mask. Her -choice of words, their accent and pronunciation, that fountain pen, the -endorsement, the stupid remark about myself--were all these lifted by -those yearning eyes into the tragedy of a fateful good-bye message? ... - -More significant still, though even less direct, was another -moment--when the Man stretched his arm across the table to turn the -lamp up. For in this unnecessary act she saw--the intuition came -sharply to me--an effect of the approaching Powers upon his untutored -soul. The wick was already high enough when, with an abrupt, impulsive -movement, he stooped to turn it higher; and instantly Mrs. LeVallon -was on her feet, her face first pale, then hotly flushed. She rose -as though to strike him, then changed the gesture as if to ward a -blow--almost to protect. It was an impetuous, revealing act. - -Out of some similar impulse, too, only half understood, I sprang to her -assistance. - -“There’s light enough,” I exclaimed. - -“And heat,” she added quickly. “Good Lord! the room’s that hot, it’s -like a furnace!” - -She flashed a look of gratitude at me. What exactly was in her mind -I cannot know, but in my own was the strange feeling that the less -_visible_ fire in the air the better. An expression of perplexed alarm -showed itself in the face of the faithful but inarticulate serving man. -Unwittingly he had blundered. His distress was acute. I almost thought -he would drop to his knees and lick his mistress’s hand for forgiveness. - -Whether Julius perceived all this is hard to say. He looked up -calmly, watching us; but the glance he gave, and the fact that he -spoke no word, made me think he realised what the energy of her tone -and gesture veiled. The desire to assist the increase of heat, of -fire--co-operation--had acted upon the physical medium least able to -resist--the most primitive system present. The approach of the two -Activities affected us, one and all. - -There were other incidents of a similar kind before the meal was over, -quite ordinary in themselves, yet equally revealing; my interpretation -of them due to this enhanced condition of acute perception that -pertained to awakening memory. Air and fire accumulated, flake by -flake. A kind of radiant heat informed all common objects. It was in -our hearts as well. And wind was waiting to blow it into flame. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - - “_Not yet are fixed the prison bars; - The hidden light the spirit owns - If blown to flame would dim the stars - And they who rule them from their thrones: - And the proud sceptred spirits thence - Would bow to pay us reverence._”--A. E. - - -It was out of this accumulation of unusual emotion that a slight -but significant act of Julius recalled me to the outer world. I was -lighting my pipe--from the chimney of the lamp rather than by striking -a match--when I overheard him telling the Man that, instead of sitting -up as usual, he might go to bed at once. He went off obediently, but -with some latent objection, half resentment, half opposition, in his -manner. There was a sulkiness as of disappointment in his face. He -knew that something unusual was on foot, and he felt that he should by -rights be in it--he might be of use, he might be needed. There was this -dumb emotion in him, as in a faithful dog who, scenting danger, is not -called upon to fight, and so retires growling to his kennel. - -He went slowly, casting backward glances, and at the door he turned and -caught my eye. I had only to beckon, to raise my hand a moment, to say -a word--he would have come running back with a bound into the room. But -the gaze of his master was upon him, and he went; and though he may -have lain down in his room beyond the kitchen, I felt perfectly sure he -did not sleep. His body lay down, but not his excited instincts. - -For this dismissal of the Man was, of course, a signal. The three of -us were then in that dim-lit peasant’s room--alone; and for a long -time in a silence broken only by the sparks escaping from the burning -logs upon the hearth, and by the low wind that now went occasionally -sighing past the open window. We sat there waiting, not looking at each -other, yet each aware of the slightest physical or mental movement. -It was an intense and active silence in which deep things were being -accomplished; for, if Mrs. LeVallon and myself were negative, I was -alert to immense and very positive actions that were going forward in -the being of our companion. Julius, sitting quietly with folded hands, -his face just beyond the lamp’s first circle of light, was preparing, -and with a stress of extreme internal effort that made the silence -seem a field of crashing battle. The entire strength of this strange -being’s soul, co-operating with Nature, and by methods of very ancient -acquirement known fully to himself alone, sought an achievement that -should make us act as one. Through two natural elemental powers, fire -and wind--both vitally part of us since the body’s birth--we could -claim the incalculable support of the entire universe. It was a cosmic -act. Ourselves were but the channel. Later this channel would define -itself still more. - -Beneath those smoke-stained rafters, as surely as beneath the vaulted -roof of some great temple, stepped worship and solemnity. The change -came gradually. From the sky above the star-lit valley this grave, -tremendous attitude swung down into our hearts. Not alone the isolated -châlet, but the world itself contained us, a temple wherein we, -insignificant worshippers, knelt before the Universe. For the powers we -invoked were not merely earthly powers, but those cosmic energies that -drove and regulated even the flocks of stars. - -Mrs. LeVallon and I both knew it dimly, as we waited with beating -hearts in that great silence. She scarcely moved. Somehow divining the -part she had to play, she sat there motionless as a figure in stone, -offering no resistance. Her reawakened memory must presently guide -us; she knew the importance of her rôle, and the composure with which -she accepted it touched grandeur. Yet each one of us was necessary. -If Julius took the leader’s part, her contribution, as my own, were -equally essential to success. If the greater risk was his, our own risk -was yet not negligible. The elemental Powers would take what channel -seemed best available. It was not a personal consideration for us. We -were most strangely _one_. - -My own measure of interpretation I have already attempted to describe. -Hers I guess intuitively. For we shared each other’s feelings as only -love and sympathy know how to share. These feelings now grew steadily -in power; and, obeying them, our bodies moved to new positions. We -changed our _attitudes_. - -For I remember that while Julius rose and stood beside the table, his -wife went quietly from my side and seated herself before the open -window, her face turned towards the valley and the night. Instinctively -we formed a living triangle, Mrs. LeVallon at the apex. And, though -at the time I understood the precise significance of these changes, -reading clearly the language they acted out in motion, that discernment -is now no longer in me, so that I cannot give the perfect expression -of meaning they revealed. Upon Julius, however, some appearance, -definite as a robe upon the head and shoulders, proclaimed him a figure -of command and somehow, too, of tragedy. It set him in the centre. -Close beside me, within the circle of the lamplight, I watched him--so -still, so grave, the face of marble pallor, the dark hair tumbling as -of old about the temples whereon the effort of intensest concentration -made the pulsing veins stand out as thick as cords. Calm as an image -he stood there for a period of time I cannot state. Beyond him, in -the shadows by the window, his wife’s figure was just visible as she -leaned, half reclining, across the wooden sill into the night. There -was no sound from the outer valley, there was no sound in the room. -Then, suddenly of itself, a change approached. The silence broke. - -“Julius...!” came faintly from the window, as Mrs. LeVallon with a -sudden gesture drew the curtain to shut out the darkness. She turned -towards us. “Julius!” And her voice, using the tone I had heard before -when she fled past me up that meadow slope, sounded as from some space -beyond the walls. I looked up, my nerves on the alert, for it came to -me that she was at the limit of endurance and that something now must -break in her. - -Julius moved over to her side, while she put her hands out first to -welcome him, then half to keep him off. He spoke no word. He took her -outstretched hands in both of his, leading her back a little nearer -towards the centre of the room. - -“Julius,” she whispered, “what frightens me to-night? I’m all a-shiver. -There’s something coming?--but what is it? And why do I seem to know, -yet not to know?” - -He answered her quietly, the voice deep with tenderness: - -“We three are here together”--I saw the shining smile I knew of -old--“and there is no cause to feel afraid. You are tired with your -long, long waiting.” And he meant, I knew, the long fatigue of ages -that she apprehended, but did not grasp fully yet. She was Mrs. -LeVallon still. - -“I’m both hot and cold together, and all oppressed,” she went on; -“like a fever it is--icy and yet on fire. I can’t get at myself, to -keep it still. Julius ... what is it?” The whisper held somehow for -me the potentiality of scream. Then, taking his two hands closer, -she raised her voice with startling suddenness. “Julius,” she cried, -“I know what frightens me--it’s _you!_ What are you to-night?” She -looked searchingly a moment into his face. “And what is this thing -that’s going to happen to you? I hear it coming nearer--outside”--she -moved further from the curtained window with small, rushing steps, -looking back across her shoulder--“all down the valley from the -mountains, those awful mountains. Oh, Julius, it’s coming--for you--my -husband----! And for him,” she added, laying her eyes upon me like a -flame. - -I thought the tears must come, but she held them back, looking -appealingly at me, and clutching Julius as though he would slip from -her. Then, with a quick movement and a little gust of curious laughter, -she clapped her hand upon her mouth to stop the words. Something she -meant to say to me was left unspoken, she was ashamed of the momentary -weakness. “Mrs. LeVallon” was still uppermost. - -“Julius,” she added more softly, “there’s something about to-night I -haven’t known since childhood. There’s such heat and--oh, hark!”--she -stopped a moment, holding up her finger--“there’s a sound--like riggin’ -in the wind. But it ain’t wind. What is it, Julius? And why is that -wonderful?” - -Yet no sound issued from the quiet valley; it was as still as death. -Even the sighing of the breeze had ceased about the walls. - -“If only I understood,” she went on, looking from his face to mine, “if -only I knew exactly. It was something,” she added almost to herself, -“that used to come to me when I was little--on the farm--and I put it -away because it made me”--she whispered the last two words below her -breath--“feel crazy----” - -“Crazy?” repeated Julius, smiling down at her. - -“Like a queen,” she finished proudly, yet still timid. “I couldn’t feel -that way and do my work.” And her long lashes lifted, so that the eyes -flashed at me across the table. “It made everything seem too easy.” - -I cannot say what quality was in his voice, when, leading her gently -towards a wicker chair beside the fire, he spoke those strange words of -comfort. There seemed a resonant power in it that brought strength and -comfort in. She smiled as she listened, though it was not her brain his -language soothed. That other look began to steal upon her face as he -proceeded. - -“_You!_” he said gently, “so wonderful a woman, and so poised with the -discipline these little nerves forget--you cannot yield to the fear -that loneliness and darkness bring to children.” She settled down into -the chair, gazing into his face as he settled the cushions for her -back. Her hands lay in her lap. She listened to every syllable, while -the expression of perplexity grew less marked. And the change upon her -features deepened as he continued: “There are moments when the soul -sees her own shadow, and is afraid. The Past comes up so close. But the -shadow and the fear will pass. We three are here. Beyond all chance -disaster, we stand together ... and to our real inner selves nothing -that is sad or terrible can ever happen.” - -Again her eyes flashed their curious lightning at me as I watched; but -the sudden vague alarm was passing as mysteriously as it came. She -said no more about the wind and fire. The magic of his personality, -rather than the words which to her could only have seemed singular and -obscure, had touched the sources of her strength. Her face was pale, -her eyes still bright with an unwonted brilliance, but she was herself -again--I think she was no longer the “upper” self I knew as “Mrs. -LeVallon.” The marvellous change was slowly stealing over her. - -“You’re cold and tired,” he said, bending above her. “Come closer to -the fire--with us all.” - -I saw her shrink, for all the brave control she exercised. The word -“fire” came on her like a blow. “It’s not my body,” she answered; -“that’s neither cold nor tired. It’s another thing--behind it.” She -turned toward the window, where the curtain at that moment rose -and fell before a draught of air. “I keep getting the feeling that -something’s coming to-night for--one of us.” She said it half to -herself, and Julius made no answer. I saw her look back then at the -glowing fire of wood and peat. At the same moment she threw out both -hands first as if to keep the heat away, then as though to hold her -husband closer. - -“Julius! If you went from me! If I lost you----!” - -I heard his low reply: - -“Never, through all eternity, can _we_ go--away from one -another--except for moments.” - -She partly understood, I think, for a great sigh, but half suppressed, -escaped her. - -“Moments,” she murmured, “that are very long ... and lonely.” - -It was then, as she said the words, that I noticed the change which so -long had been rising, establish itself definitely in the luminous eyes. -That other colour fastened on them--the deep sea-green. “Mrs. LeVallon” -before my sight sank slowly down, and a completer, far more ancient -self usurped her. Small wonder that my description halts in confusion -before so beautiful a change, for it was the beginning of an actual -transfiguration of her present person. It was bewildering to watch -the gradual, enveloping approach of that underlying Self, shrine of a -million memories, deathless, and ripe with long-forgotten knowledge. -The air of majesty that she wore in the sleep-walking incident gathered -by imperceptible degrees about the uninspired modern presentment that -I knew. Slowly her face turned calm with beauty. The features composed -themselves in some new mould of grandeur. The perplexity, at first so -painfully apparent, but marked the singular passage of the less into -the greater. I saw it slowly disappear. As she lay back in that rough -chair of a peasant’s châlet, there was some calm about her as of the -steadfast hills, some radiance as of stars, a suggestion of power that -told me--as though some voice whispered it in my soul--she knew the -link with Nature re-established finally within her being. Her head -turned slightly towards me. I stood up. - -Instinctively I moved across the room and drew the curtain back. I -saw the stars; I saw the dark line of mountains; the odours of forest -and meadow came in with sweetness; I heard the tinkling of the little -stream--yet all contained somehow in the message of her turning head -and shoulders. - -There was no sound, there was no spoken word, but the language was -one and unmistakable. And as I came slowly again towards the fire -Julius stood over her, uttering in silence the same stupendous thing. -The sense of my own inclusion in it was amazing. He smiled down into -her lifted face. These two, myself a vital link between them, smiled -across the centuries at one another. We formed--I noticed then--with -the fire and the open window into space--a circle. - -To say that I grasped some spiritual import in these movements of our -bodies, realising that they acted out an inevitable meaning, is as true -as my convinced belief can make it. It is also true that in this, my -later report of the event, that meaning is no longer clear to me. I -cannot recover the point of view that discerned in our very positions -a message of some older day. The significance of attitude and gesture -then were clear to me; the translation of this three-dimensional -language I have lost again. A man upon his knees, two arms outstretched -to clasp, a head bowed down, a pointing finger--these are interpretable -gestures and attitudes that need no spoken words. Similarly, following -some forgotten wisdom, our related movements held a ceremonial import -that, by way of acceptance or refusal, helped or hindered the advance -of the elemental powers then invoked. In some marvellous fashion one -consciousness was shared amongst us all. We worked with a living -Nature, and a living Nature worked actively with us, and it was -attitude, movement, gestures, rather than words, that assisted the -alliance. - -Then Julius took the hand that lay nearest to him, while the other she -lifted to place within my own. And a light breeze came through the open -window at that moment, touched the embers of the glowing logs, and blew -them into flame. I felt our hands tighten as that slight increase of -heat and air passed into us. For in that passing breeze was the eternal -wind which is the breath of God, and in that flame upon the hearth was -the fire which burns in suns and lights the heart in men and women.... - -There came with unexpected suddenness, then, a moment of very poignant -human significance--because of the great perspective against which it -rose. She sat erect; she gazed into his face and mine; in her eyes -burned an expression of beseeching love and sacrifice, but a love and -sacrifice far older than this present world on which her body lay. Her -arms stretched out and opened, she raised her lips, and, while I looked -aside, she kissed him softly. I turned away from that embrace, aware in -my heart that it was a half-divined farewell ... and when I looked back -again the little scene was over. - -He bent slightly down, releasing the hand he held, and signifying by a -gesture that I should do the same. Her body relaxed a little; she sank -deeper into the chair; she sighed. I realised that he was assisting -her into that artificial slumber which would lead to the full release -of the subconscious self whose slow approach she already half divined. -Stooping above her, he gently touched the hypnogenic points above the -eyes and behind the ears. It was the oldest memories he sought. She -offered them quite willingly. - -“Sleep!” he said soothingly, command and tenderness mingled in the -voice. “Sleep ... and remember!” With the right hand he made slow, -longitudinal passes before her face. “Sleep, and recover what you ... -knew! We need your guidance.” - -Her body swayed a little before it settled; her feet stretched nearer -to the fire; her respiration rapidly diminished, becoming deep and -regular; with the movement of her bosom the band of black velvet -rose and fell about the neck, her hands lay folded in her lap. And, -as I watched, my own personal sensations of quite nameless joy and -anguish passed into a curious abandonment of self that merged me too -completely in the solemnity of worship to leave room for pain. Hand in -hand with the earthly darkness came in to us that Night of Time which -neither sleeps nor dies, and like a remembered dream up stole our -inextinguishable Past. - -“Sleep!” he repeated, lower than before. - -Cold, indeed, touched my heart, but with it came a promise of some -deep spiritual sweetness, rich with the comfort of that life which is -both abundant and universal. The valley and the sky, stars, mountains, -forests, running water, all that lay outside of ourselves in Nature -everywhere, came with incredible appeal into my soul. Confining -barriers crumbled, melted into air; the imprisoned human forces leaped -forth to meet the powers that “inanimate” Nature holds. I knew the -drive of tireless wind, the rush of irresistible fire. It seemed a -state in which we all joined hands, a state of glory that justified the -bravest hopes, annihilating doubt and disbelief. - -She slept. And in myself something supremely sure, supremely calm, -looked on and watched. - -“It helps,” Julius murmured in my ear, referring to the sleep; “it -makes it easier for her. She will remember now ... and guide.” - -He moved to her right side, I to her left. Between the fire and the -open window we formed then--a line. - -Along a line there is neither tension nor resistance. It was the -primitive, ultimate figure. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - - -A rush of air ran softly round the walls and roof, then dropped away -into silence. There was this increased activity outside. A roar next -sounded in the chimney, high up rather; a block of peat fell with a -sudden crash into the grate, sending a shower of sparks to find the -outer air. Behind us the pine boards cracked with miniature, sharp -reports. - -Julius continued the longitudinal passes, and “Mrs. LeVallon” passed -with every minute into deeper and more complete somnambulism. It was a -natural, willing process. He merely made it easier for her. She sank -slowly into the deep subconscious region where all the memories of the -soul lie stored for use. - -It seemed that everything was in abeyance in myself, except the central -fact that this experience was true. The rest of existence fell away, -clipped off as by a pair of mighty shears. Both fire and wind seemed -actively about me; yet not unnaturally. There was this heat and lift, -but there was nothing frantic. The native forces in me were raised to -their ultimate capacity, though never for a moment beyond the limit -that high emotion might achieve. Nature accomplished the abnormal, -possibly, but still according to law and what was--or had been -once--comprehensible. - -The passes grew slower, with longer intervals between; Mrs. LeVallon -lay motionless, the lips slightly parted, the skin preternaturally -pale, the eyelids tightly closed. - -“Hush!” whispered Julius, as I made an involuntary movement, “it is -still the normal sleep, and she may easily awake. Let no sound disturb -her. It must go gradually.” He spoke without once removing his gaze -from her face. “Be ready to write what you hear,” he added, “and help -by ‘thinking’ fire and wind--in my direction.” - -A long-drawn sigh was audible, accompanied by the slightest possible -convulsive movement of the reclining body. - -“She sinks deeper,” he whispered, ceasing the passes for a moment. “The -consciousness is already below the deep-dream stage. Soon she will -wake into the interior lucidity when her Self of To-day will touch the -parent source behind. _They_ are already with her: they light--and -lift--her soul. She will remember all her past, and will direct us.” - -I made no answer; I asked no questions; I stood and watched, willingly -sympathetic, yet incapable of action. The curious scene held something -of tragedy and grandeur. There was triumph in it. The sense of Nature -working with us increased, yet we ourselves comparatively unimportant. -The earth, the sky, the universe took part and were involved in our -act of restitution. It was beyond all experience. It was also--at -times--intolerable. - -The body settled deeper into the chair; the crackling of the wicker -making sharp reports in the stillness. The pallor of the face -increased; the cheeks sank in, the framework of the eyes stood out; -imperceptibly the features began to re-arrange themselves upon another, -greater scale, most visible, perhaps, in the strong, delicate contours -of the mouth and jaw. Upon Julius, too, as he stood beside her, came -down some indefinable change that set him elsewhere and otherwise. His -dignity, his deep solicitous tenderness, and at the same time a hint of -power that emanated more and more from his whole person, rendered him -in some intangible fashion remote and inaccessible. I watched him with -growing wonder. - -For over the room as well a change came stealing. In the shadows beyond -the fringe of lamplight, perspective altered. The room ran off in -distances that yet just escaped the eye: I _felt_ the change, though -it was so real that the breath caught in me each time I sought to -focus it. Space spread and opened on all sides, above, below, while -so naturally that it was never actually unaccountable. Wood seemed -replaced by stone, as though the solidity of our material surroundings -deepened. I was aware of granite columns, corridors of massive build, -gigantic pylons towering to the sky. The atmosphere of an ancient -temple grew about my heart, and long-forgotten things came with a -crowding of half-familiar detail that insisted upon recognition. It was -an early memory, I knew, yet not the earliest.... - -“Be ready.” I heard the low voice of Julius. “She is about to -wake--within,” and he moved a little closer to her, while I took up -my position by the table by the lamp. The paper lay before me. With -fingers that trembled I lifted the pencil, waiting. The hands of the -sleeping woman raised themselves feebly, then fell back upon the arms -of the chair. It seemed she tried to make signs but could not quite -complete them. The expression on the face betrayed great internal -effort. - -“Where are you?” Julius asked in a steady but very gentle tone. - -The answer came at once, with slight intervals between the words: - -“In a building ... among mountains....” - -“Are you alone?” - -“No ... not alone,” spoken with a faint smile, the eyes still tightly -closed. - -“Who, then, is with you?” - -“You ... and he,” after a momentary hesitation. - -“And who am I?” - -The face showed slight confusion; there was a gesture as though she -felt about her in the air to find him. - -“I do not know ... quite,” came the halting answer. “But you--both--are -mine ... and very near to me. Or else you own me. All three are so -close I cannot see ourselves apart ... quite.” - -“She is confused between two memories,” Julius whispered to me. “The -true regression of memory has not yet begun. The present still -obscures her consciousness.” - -“It is coming,” she said instantly, aware of his lightest whisper. - -“All in due time,” he soothed her in a tender tone; “there is no hurry. -Nor is there anything to fear----” - -“I am not afraid. I am ... happy. I feel safe.” She paused a moment, -then added: “But I must go deeper ... further down. I am too near the -surface still.” - -He made a few slow passes at some distance from her face, and I saw -the eyelids flutter as though about to lift. She sighed deeply. She -composed herself as into yet deeper sleep. - -“Ah! I see better now,” she murmured. “I am sinking ... sinking ...” - -He waited for several minutes and then resumed the questioning. - -“Now tell me who _you_ are,” he enjoined. - -She faintly shook her head. Her lips trembled, as though she tried to -utter several names and then abandoned all. The effort seemed beyond -her. The perplexed expression on the face with the shut eyes was -movingly pathetic, so that I longed to help her, though I knew not how. - -“Thank you,” she murmured instantly, with a gentle smile in my -direction. Our thoughts, then, already found each other! - -“Tell me who you are,” Julius repeated firmly. “It is not the name I -ask.” - -She answered distinctly, with a smile: - -“A mother. I am soon to be a mother and give birth.” - -He glanced at me significantly. There was both joy and sadness in his -eyes. But it was not this disclosure that he sought. She was still -entangled in the personality of To-day. It was far older layers of -memory and experience that he wished to read. “Once she gets free from -this,” he whispered, “it will go with leaps and bounds, whole centuries -at a time.” And again I knew by the smile hovering round the lips that -she had heard and understood. - -“Pass deeper; pass beyond,” he continued, with more authority in the -tone. “Drive through--sink down into what lies so far behind.” - -A considerable interval passed before she spoke again, ten minutes at -the lowest reckoning, and possibly much longer. I watched her intently, -but with an afflicting anxiety at my heart. The body lay so still and -calm, it was like the immobility of death, except that once or twice -the forehead puckered in a little frown and the compression of the -lips told of the prolonged internal effort. The grander aspect of her -features came for moments flittingly, but did not as yet establish -itself to stay. She was still confused with the mind and knowledge -of To-day. At length a little movement showed itself; she changed -the angle of her head in an effort to look up and speak; a scarcely -perceptible shudder ran down the length of her stretched limbs. “I -cannot,” she murmured, as though glancing at her husband with closed -eyelids. “Something blocks the way. I cannot see. It’s too thickly -crowded ... crowded.” - -“Describe it, and pass on,” urged Julius patiently. There was -unalterable decision in his quiet voice. And in her tone a change was -also noticeable. I was profoundly moved; only with a great effort I -controlled myself. - -“They crowd so eagerly about me,”--the choice of words seemed no longer -quite “Mrs. LeVallon’s”--“with little arms outstretched and pleading -eyes. They seek to enter, they implore ...” - -“Who are they?” - -“The Returning Souls.” The love and passion in her voice brought near, -as in a picture, the host of reincarnating souls eager to find a body -for their development in the world. They besieged her, clamouring for -birth--for a body. - -“Your thoughts invite them,” replied Julius, “but you have the power to -decide.” And then he asked more sternly: “Has any entered yet?” - -It was unspeakably moving--this mother willing to serve with anguish -the purpose of advancing souls. Yet this was all of To-day. It was -not the thing he sought. The general purpose must stand aside for the -particular. There was an error to be set right first. She had to seek -its origin among the ages infinitely far away. The guidance Julius -sought lay in the long ago. But the safety of the little unborn body -troubled him, it seemed. - -“As yet,” she murmured, “none. The little body of the boy is empty ... -though besieged.” - -“By whom besieged?” he asked more loudly. “Who hinders?” - -The little body of the boy! And it was then a further change came -suddenly, both in her face and voice, and in the voice of Julius too. - -That larger expression of some forgotten grandeur passed into her -features, and she half sat up in the chair; there was a stiffening of -the frame; resistance, power, an attitude of authority, replaced the -former limpness. The moment was, for me, electrifying. Ice and fire -moved upon my skin. - -She opened her lips to speak, but no words were audible. - -“Look close--and tell me,” came from Julius gravely. - -She made an effort, then shrank back a little, this time raising one -arm as though to protect herself from something coming, then sharply -dropping it again over the heart and body. - -“I cannot see,” she murmured, slightly frowning; “they stand so close -and ... are ... so splendid. They are too great ... to see.” - -“Who--what--are they?” he insisted. He took her hand in his. I saw her -smile. - -The simple words were marvellously impressive. Depths of untold memory -stirred within me as I heard. - -“Powers ... we knew ... so long ago.” - -Some ancient thing in me opened an eye and saw. The Powers we evoked -came seeking an entrance, brought nearer by our invitation. They came -from the silent valley; they were close about the building. But only -through a human channel could they emerge from the spheres where they -belonged. - -“Describe them, and pass on,” I heard Julius say, and there came a -pause then that I thought would never end. The look of power rolled -back upon her face. She spoke with joy, with a kind of happiness as -though she welcomed them. - -“They rush and shine.... They flood the distance like a sea, and yet -stand close against my heart and blood. They are clothed in wind and -fire. I see the diadems of flame ascending and descending. Their breath -is all the winds. There is such roaring. I see mountains of wind and -fire ... advancing ... nearer ... nearer.... We used them--we invited -... long, long ago.... And so they ... come again about us....” - -His following command appalled me: - -“Keep them back. You must protect the vacant body from invasion.” - -And then he added in tones that seemed to make the very air vibrate, -although the voice but whispered, “You must direct them--towards _me_.” - -He moved to a new position, so that we formed a triangle again. Dimly -at the time I understood. The circle signified the union which, having -received, enclosed the mighty forces. Only it enclosed too much; the -danger of misdirection had appeared. The triangle, her body forming -the apex towards the open night, aimed at controlling the immense -arrival by lessening the entry. Another thing stood out, too, with -crystal clearness--at the time: the elemental Powers sought the easiest -channel, the channel of least resistance, the body still unoccupied: -whereas Julius offered--himself. The risk must be his and his alone. -There was--in those few steps he took across the dim-lit room--a -sense of tremendous, if sinister, drama that swept my heart with both -tenderness and terror. The significance of his changed position was -staggering. - -I watched the sleeper closely. The lips grew more compressed, and the -fingers of both hands clenched themselves upon the dark dress on her -lap. I saw the muscles of the altering face contract with effort; the -whole framework of the body became more rigid. Then, after several -minutes, followed a gradual relaxation, as she sank back again into her -original position. - -“They retire ...” she murmured with a sigh. “They retire ... into -darkness a little. But they still ... wait and hover. I hear the rush -of their great passing.... I see the distant shine of fire ... still.” - -“And the souls?” he asked gently, “do they now return?” - -She lowered her head as with a gesture of relief. - -“They are crowding, crowding. I see them as an endless flight of -birds....” She held out her arms, then shrank back sharply. An -expression I could not interpret flashed across the face. Behind a -veil, it seemed. And the stern voice of Julius broke in upon the -arrested action: - -“Invite them by your will. Draw to you by desire and love one eager -soul. The little vacant body must be occupied, so that the Mighty Ones, -returning, shall find it thus impossible of entry.” - -It was a command; it was also a precaution; for if the body of the -child were left open it would inevitably attract the invading Powers -from--himself. I watched her very closely then. I saw her again stretch -out her arms and hands, then once again--draw sharply back. But this -time I understood the expression on the quivering face. The veil had -lifted. - -By what means this was clear to me, yet hidden from Julius, I cannot -say. Perhaps the ineradicable love that she and I bore for one another -in that long-forgotten time supplied the clue. But of this I am -certain--that she disobeyed him. She left the little waiting body as -it was, empty, untenanted. Life--a soul returning to re-birth--was not -conceived and did not enter in. The reason, moreover, was also clear -to me in that amazing moment of her choice: she divined his risk of -failure, she wished to save him, she left open the channel of least -resistance of set purpose--the unborn body. For a love known here and -now, she sacrificed a love as yet unborn. If Julius failed, at least he -would not now be destroyed; there would be another channel ready. - -That thus she thought, intended, I felt convinced. If her mistake -was fraught with more danger than she knew, my lips were yet somehow -sealed. Our deeper, ancient bond gave me the clue that to Julius -was not offered, but no words came from me to enlighten him. It -seemed beyond my power; I should have broken faith with her, a faith -unbelievably precious to me. - -For a long time, then, there was silence in the little room, while -LeVallon continued to make slow passes as before. The anguish left -her face, drowned wholly in the grander expression that she wore. She -breathed deeply, regularly, without effort, the head sunk forward a -little on the breast. The rustle of his coat as his arm went to and -fro, and the creaking of the wicker chair were all I heard. Then, -presently, Julius turned to me with a low whisper I can hear to this -very day. “I, and I alone,” he said, “am the rightful channel. I have -waited long.” He added more that I have forgotten; I caught something -about “all the aspects being favourable,” and that he felt confidence, -sure that he would not fail. - -“You will not,” I interrupted passionately, “you dare not fail....” And -then speech suddenly broke down in me, and some dark shadow seemed to -fall upon my senses so that I neither heard nor saw nor felt anything -for a period I cannot state. - -An interval there certainly was, and of some considerable length -probably, for when I came to myself again there was change -accomplished, though a change I could not properly estimate. His -voice filled the room, addressing the sleeper as before, yet in a way -that told me there had been progress accomplished while I had been -unconscious. - -“Deeper yet,” I heard, “pass down deeper yet, pass back across a -hundred intervening lives to that far-off time and place when -first--_first_--we called Them forth. Sink down into your inmost being -and remember!” - -And in her immediate answer there was a curious faintness as of -distance: “It is ... so ... far away ... so far beyond ...” - -“Beyond what?” he asked, the expression of “Other Places” deepening -upon his face. - -Her forehead wrinkled in a passing frown. “Beyond this earth,” she -murmured, as though her closed eyes saw within. “Oh, oh, it hurts. The -heat is awful ... the light ... the tremendous winds ... they blind, -they tear me...!” And she stopped abruptly. - -“Forget the pain,” he said; “it is already gone.” And instantly the -tension of her face relaxed. She drew a sigh of deep relief. Before I -could prevent it, my own voice sounded: “When we were nearer to the -sun!” - -She made no reply. He took my hand across the table and laid it on her -own. “She cannot hear your voice,” he said, “unless you touch us. She -is too far away. She does not even know that you are here beside me. -You of To-day she has forgotten, and the you of that long ago she has -not yet found.” - -“You speak with someone--but with whom?” she asked at once, turning her -head a little in my direction. Not waiting for his reply she at once -went on: “Upon another planet, yes ... but oh, so long ago....” And -again she paused. - -“The one immediately before this present one?” asked Julius. - -She shook her head gently. “Still further back than that ... the one -before the last, when first we knew delight of life ... without these -heavy, closing bodies. When the sun was nearer ... and we knew deity in -the fiery heat and mighty winds ... and Nature was ... ourselves....” -The voice wavered oddly, broke, and ceased upon a sigh. A thousand -questions burned in me to ask. An amazing certainty of recognition and -remembrance burst through my heart. But Julius spoke before my tongue -found words. - -“Search more closely,” he said with intense gravity. “The time and -place we summoned Them is what we need--not where we first learned it, -but where we practised it and failed. Confine your will to that. Forget -the earlier planet. To help you, I set a barrier you cannot pass....” - -“The scene of our actual evocation is what we must discover,” he -whispered to me. “When that is found we shall be in touch with the -actual Powers our worship used.” - -“It was not there, in that other planet,” she murmured. “It was only -there we first gained the Nature-wisdom. Thence--we brought it with us -... to another time and place ... later ... much nearer to To-day--to -Earth.” - -“Remember, then, and see----” he began, when suddenly her unutterably -wonderful expression proclaimed that she at last had found it. - -It was curiously abrupt. He moved aside. We waited. I took up my -pencil between fingers that were icy cold. My gaze remained fixed upon -the motionless body. Those fast-closed eyes seemed cut in stone, as -if they never in this world could open. The forehead gleamed pale as -ivory in the lamplight. The soft gulping of the lamp oil beside me, -the crumbling of the firewood in the grate deepened the silence that -I feared to break. The pallid oval of the sleeper’s countenance shone -at me out of a room turned wholly dark. I forgot the place wherein we -sat, our names, our meanings in the present. For there grew vividly -upon that disc-like countenance the face of another person--and of one -I knew. - -And with this shock of recognition--there came over me both horror and -undying sweetness--a horror that the face would smile into my own with -a similar recognition, that from those lips a voice must come I should -remember; that those arms would lift, those hands stretch out; an -ecstasy that I should be remembered. - -“Open!” I heard, as from far away, the voice of Julius. - -And then I realised that the eyes _were_ open. The lids were raised, -the eyeballs faced the lamp. Some tension drew the skin sideways. They -were other eyes. The eternal Self looked out of them bringing the -message of a vast antiquity. They gazed steadily and clearly into mine. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - - -To-day retired. I remembered Yesterday, but a Yesterday more remote, -perhaps, than the fire-mist out of which our little earth was born.... - -I half rose in my chair. The first instinct--strong in me still as I -write this here in modern Streatham--was to fall upon my knees as in -the stress of some immense, remembered love. That glory caught me, -that power of an everlasting passion that was holy. Bathed in a sea of -perfect recollection, my eyes met hers, lost themselves, lived back -into a Past that had been joy. A flood of shame broke fiercely over -me that such a union could ever have seemed “forgotten.” That To-day -could smother Yesterday so easily seemed sacrilege. For this memory, -uprising from the mists of hoary pre-existence, brought in its train -other great emotions of recovered grandeur, all stirred into life by -this ancient ceremony we three acted out. Our purpose then had been, -I knew, no ordinary, selfish love, no lust of possession or ownership -behind it. Its aim and end were not mere personal contentment, mere -selfish happiness that excluded others, but, rather, a part of some -vast, co-ordinated process that involved all Nature with her powers and -workings, and fulfilled with beauty a purpose of the entire Universe. -It was holy in the biggest sense; it was divine. The significance -of our attitudes To-day was all explained--Julius, herself and I, -exquisitely linked to Nature, a group-soul formed by the loves of -Yesterday and Now. - -We gazed at one another in silence, smiling at our recovered wonder. -We spoke no word, we made no gesture; there was perfect comprehension; -we were, all three, as we had been--long ago. An earlier state of -consciousness took this supreme command.... And presently--how long the -interval I cannot say--_her_ eyelids dropped, she drew a deep sigh of -happiness, and lay quiescent as before. - -It was then, I think, that the sense of worship in me became so -imperative that denial seemed impossible. Some inner act of adoration -certainly accomplished itself although no physical act resulted, -for I remember dropping back again into my chair, not knowing what -exactly I meant to do. The old desire for the long, sweet things of -the soul burst suddenly into flame, the inner yearning to know the -deathless Nature Powers which were the gods, and to taste divinity -by feeling-with their mighty beings. That early state of simpler -consciousness, it seems, lay too remote from modern things to be -translatable in clear language. Yet at the time I knew it, felt it, -realised it, because I lived it once again. The flood of aspiration -that bore me on its crest left thinking and reason utterly out of -account. No link survives To-day with the state we then recovered.... - -And both she and Julius changed before my eyes. The châlet changed as -well, slipping into the shadowy spaces of some vast, pillared temple. -The soul in me realised its power and _knew_ its origin divine. Bathed -in a sea of long-forgotten glory, it rose into a condition of sublimest -bliss and confidence. It recognised its destiny and claimed all Heaven. -And this raging fire of early spiritual ambition passed over me as upon -a mighty wind; desire and will became augmented as though wind blew -them into flame. - -“Watch ... and listen,” I heard, “and feel no fear!” - -The change visibly increased; it seemed that curtains lifted in -succession.... The sunken head was raised; the lips quivered with -approaching speech; the pale cheeks deepened with a sudden flush that -set the cheekbones in a quick, high light; the neck bent slightly -forward, foreshortening, as it were, the presentment of the head and -shoulders; while some indescribable touch of power painted the marble -brows cold and almost stern. The entire countenance breathed the -august passion of a remoter age dropped close.... And to see the little -face I knew as Mrs. LeVallon, domestic servant in the world To-day, -unscreen itself thus before me, while its actual structure yet remained -unchanged, broke down the last resistance in me, and rendered my -subjugation absolute. Transfiguration was visibly accomplished.... - -Once more she turned her head and looked at me. I met the eyes that -saw me and remembered. And, though I would have screened myself from -their tremendous gaze, there was no remnant of power in me that could -do so.... She smiled, then slowly withdrew her eyes.... I passed, with -these two beside me, back into the womb of pre-existence. We were upon -the Earth--at the very time and place where we had used the knowledge -brought from a still earlier globe. - - * * * * * - -“What do you see?” came in those quiet tones that rolled up time and -distance like a scroll. “Tell me now!” It was the scene of the lost -experiment he sought. We were close upon it. - -She spread her arms; her hands waved slowly through the air to indicate -these immense enclosing walls of stone about us. The voice reverberated -as in great hollow space. - -“Darkness ... and the Vacated Bodies,” was the reply. I knew that we -stood in the Hall of Silence where the bodies lay entranced while their -spirits went forth upon the three days’ quest. And one of these, I -knew, was mine. - -“What besides?” - -“The Guardians--who protect.” - -“Who are they? Who are these Guardians?” - -An expression of shrinking passed across her face, and disappeared -again. The eyes stared fixedly before her into space. - -“Myself,” she answered slowly, “you--Concerighé ... and ...” - -“There was another?” he asked. “Another who was with us?” - -She hesitated. At first no answer came. She seemed to search the -darkness to discover it. - -“He is not near enough to see,” she murmured presently. “Somewhere -beyond ... he stands ... he lies ... I cannot see him clearly.” - -Julius touched my hand, and with the contact the expression on her face -grew clear. She smiled. - -“You see him now,” he said with decision. - -She turned her face towards me with a tender, stately movement. The -sterner aspect deepened into softness on the features. Great joy for an -instant passed into the strange sea-green eyes. - -“Silvatela,” she whispered, slightly lowering the head. “He offered -himself--for me. He lies now--empty at our feet.” And the utterance -of the name passed through me with a thrill of nameless sweetness. An -infinite desire woke, yet desire not for myself alone. - -“The time...?” asked Julius in that calm, reverent tone. - -She rose with a suddenness that made me start, though, somehow, I had -expected it. At her full height she stood between us. Then, spreading -her hands from both the temples outwards, she bowed her head to -the level of the breast. Julius, I saw, did likewise, and before I -realised it, the same deep, instinctive awe had brought me to my feet -in a similar obeisance. A breath of air from the night outside passed -sensibly between us, enough to stir the hair upon my head and increase -the fire on the hearth behind. It ceased, and a wave of comforting heat -moved in, paused a moment, settled like a great invisible presence, and -held the atmosphere. - -“It is the Pause in Nature,” I heard the answer, and saw that she was -seated in the chair once more. “The Third Day nears its end.... The -Questing Souls ... draw near again to enter. We have kept their vacated -bodies safe for them. Our task is almost over....” - -She drew a deep, convulsive sigh. Then Julius, taking her right hand, -guided my left to hold the other one. I touched her fingers and felt -them instantly clasp about my own; she sighed again, the frown went -from her forehead, and turning her gaze upon us both she murmured: - -“I see clearly, I see everything.” - -The past surged over me in a drowning flood. - -“This is the moment, this the very place,” came the voice of Julius. -“It was at this moment we were faithless to our trust. We used your -body as the channel....” He turned slightly in my direction. - -“The moment and the place,” she interrupted. “There is just time. -Before the Souls return.... You have called upon the Powers.... Yet -both cannot enter! ... he ... and they....” - -There was a mighty, echoing cry. - -She stopped abruptly. Her face darkened as with some great internal -effort. I darkened too. My vision broke.... There was a sense of -interval.... - -“And the channel----?” he asked below his breath. - -She shook her head slowly to and fro. “It lies waiting still in the -Iron Slumber.... You used it ... it is shattered.... The soul returning -finds it not.... His soul ... whom I loved ...” - -The voices ceased. A sudden darkness dropped. I had the sensation that -I was rushing, flying, whirling. The hand I clasped seemed melted into -air. I lost the final remnant of present things about me. The circle -of my own sensations, my identity, the identity of my two companions -vanished. A remarkable feeling of triumph came upon me, of joyful -power that lifted me high above all injury and death, while something -utterly gigantic asserted itself in the place of what had just been -“me”--something that could never be maimed, subdued, held prisoner. The -darkness then lifted, giving way before a hurricane of light that swept -me, as it were, upon a pinnacle. Secure and strong I felt beyond all -possible disaster, yet breathless amid things too long unfamiliar.... -And then, abruptly, I knew searing pain, the pain of something broken -in me, of spiritual incompleteness, disappointment.... I was called -back to lesser life--before my time--before some high fulfilment due to -me.... - -Julius and Mrs. LeVallon were no longer there beside me, but in their -place I saw two solemn figures standing motionless and grave above a -prostrate body. It lay upon a marble slab, and sunlight fell over the -face and folded hands. The two moved forward. They knelt ... there -was a sound of voices as in prayer, a powerful, drawn-out sound that -produced intense vibrations, vibrations so immense that the motion in -the air was felt as wind. I saw gestures ... the body half rose up upon -its marble slab ... and then the blaze of some incredible effulgence -descended before my eyes, so fiercely brilliant, and accompanied by -such an intolerable, radiant heat ... that the entire scene went lost -behind great shafts of light that splintered and destroyed it ... -and an awful darkness followed, a darkness that again had pain and -incompleteness at the heart of it.... - -One thing alone I understood--that body on the shining slab was mine. -My absent soul, deprived of high glory elsewhere that was mine by -right, returned into it unexpectedly, aware of danger. It had been used -for the purposes of evocation. I had met the two Powers evoked by means -of it midway: Fire and Wind.... - -The vision vanished. I was standing in the châlet room again, he and -the woman by my side. There was a sense of enormous interval. - - * * * * * - -We were back among the present things again. I had merely re-lived -in a moment’s space a vision of that Past where these two had sinned -against me. The memory was gone again. We now resumed our present -reconstruction, by means of which the balance should be finally -restored. The same two elemental Powers were with us still. Summoned -once again--but this time that they might be dismissed. - -“The Messengers of Wind and Fire approach,” Julius was saying softly. -“Be ready for the Powers that follow after.” - -“But--there poured through me but a moment ago----” I began, when his -face stopped my speech sharply. - -“That ‘moment’ was sixty centuries ago! Keep hold now upon your will,” -he interrupted, yet without a trace of the vast excitement that _I_ -felt, “lest they invade your heart instead of mine. The glory that you -knew was but the shadow of their coming--as long ago you returned _and -met them_--when we failed. Keep close watch upon your will. It is the -Equinox.... The pause now comes with midnight.” - -Even before he had done speaking the majesties of Wind and Fire were -upon us. And Nature came in with them. A dislocating change, swift -as the shaking of some immense thick shutter that hides life behind -material things, passed in a flash about us. We stood in a circle, -hands firmly clasped. There was a first effect as if those very hands -were fused and ran into a single molten chain. There was no outer -sound. The silence in the air was deathlike. But the sensation in my -soul was--life. The momentary confusion was stupendous, then passed -away. I stood in that room, but I stood in the valley too. I was in -Nature everywhere. I heard the deer go past me, I heard them on the -soft, sweet grass, I heard their breathing and the beating of their -hearts. Birds fluttered round my face and shoulders, I heard their -singing in my blood and ears, I knew their wild desires and freedom, -their darting to and fro, their swaying on the boughs. My feet were -running water, while yet the solid mass of earth and cliff stood up in -me. I also knew the growing of the flowers by the forests, tasted their -fragrance in my breath, their tender, delicate essence all unwasted. -It passed understanding, yet was natural as sight, for my hands went -far away, while still quite close, dipping among the stars that grew -and piled like heaps of gathered sand. It all was simple, easy, mine -by right. Nature gave me her myriad sensations without stint. I had -forgotten. I remembered. The universe stood open. “I” had entered with -these other two beside me. - -_She_ raised her arms aloft, taking our hands up with her own, and -cried with a voice like wind against great branches: - -“They come! The Doors of Fire are wide, and the Gates of Wind stand -open! They enter the channel that is offered.” - -And his voice, like a roar of flame, came answering hers: - -“The salutations of the Fire and Wind are made! The channel is -prepared! There is no resistance!” - -They stood erect and rigid, their outlines merged with some strange -extension into space. They were superb, tremendous. There was no -shrinking there. The deities of wind and fire came up, seeking their -channel of return. - -And so “They” came. Yet not outwardly; nor was the terrific impact of -their advent known completely to any but himself alone who sought to -harbour them now within his little human organism. Into _my_ heart -and soul poured but a fragment of their radiant, rushing presences. -About us all some intelligent power as of a living wind brought in -its mighty arms that ethereal fire which is not merely living, but -is life itself. Material objects wavered, then disappeared, thin as -transparent glass that increases light and heat. Walls, ceiling, floor -were burned away, yet not consumed; the atoms composing all physical -things glowed with a radiant energy they no longer could conceal. The -latent heat of inanimate Nature emerged, not rebellious but triumphant. -It was a deific manifestation of those natural powers which are the -first essentials of human existence--heat and air. We were not alien to -Nature, nor was Nature set apart from us; we shared her inexhaustible -life, and the glory of the Universe in which she is a fragment. - -“The Doors of the Creative Fire stand wide,” rang out her triumphant -voice again. “The golden splendour of the invisible Fire loosens and -flows free. The Breath of Life is everywhere ... our own.... But what, -oh what of--_him!_” The scene of their past audacious error swept again -before me. And, partially, I caught it. - -Into a gulf of silence her words fell, recaptured from a mode of -invocation effective in forgotten ages. Quivering lightnings, like a -host of running stars, flashed marvellously about us, with bars of fire -that seemed to map all space, while there was a sense of prodigious -lifting in the heart as though some power like rushing wind drove will -and yearning to the summit of all possible achievement. I realised -simply this--that Nature’s powers and purposes became mine too. - -How long this lasted is impossible to state; duration disappeared. The -Universe, it seemed, had caught me up, joyful and unafraid, into her -bosom. It was too immense for little terrors.... And it was only after -what seemed an interminable interval that I became aware of something -that marred; of effort somewhere to confine and limit; of conflict, -in a word, as though some smaller force strove to impose an order -upon Powers that resented it. And I understood the meaning of this -too. Julius battled in his soul. He wrestled with the Energies he had -invoked, exerting to the utmost a trained, spiritual will to influence -their direction into himself, as expiatory channel. Julius, after the -lapse of centuries, fought to restore the balance he had long ago -disturbed. - -_Her_ voice, too, occasionally reached me with a sound as of wind that -rushed, but very far away. The words went past me with a heat like -flame. I caught fragments only ... “The King of Breath ... The Master -of the Diadems of Fire ... they seek to enter ... the channel of safe -return.... Oh, beware ... beware ...” - -And it was then I saw this wonderful thing happen, poignant with common -human drama, intensifying the reality of the whole amazing experience. -For she turned suddenly to him, her face alight and radiant. She would -not let him accept the awful risk. Her arms went out to hold him to -her. He drove her back. - -“I open wide the channel of my life and soul!” he cried, with a gesture -of the entire body that made it relaxed and unresisting. He stepped -backwards a little from her touch. “It must be through _me!_” - -And there was anguish in her tone that seemed to press all possible -human passion into the single sentence: - -“I, too, throw myself open! I cannot let you go from me!” - -He moved still further from her. It seemed to me he went at prodigious -speed, yet grew no smaller to the eye. The withdrawal belonged to some -part of his being that I was aware of inwardly. Streams of fire and -wind went with him. They followed. And I heard her voice in agonised -pursuit. She raised her hands as in supplication, but to whom or what I -knew not. She fought to prevent. She fought to offer herself instead. - -But also she offered the body as yet unclaimed--untenanted. - -“He who is in the Fire and in the Sun ... I call upon His power. I -offer myself!” I heard her cry. - -His answering voice seemed terrible: - -“The Law forbids. You hold Them back from me.” And then as from a -greater distance, the voice continued more faintly: “You prevent. It -has to be! Help me before it is too late; help me ... or ... I ... -fail!” - -Fail! I heard the awful word like thunder in the heavens. - -The conflict of their wills, the distress of it was terrible. At -this last moment she realised that the strain was more than he could -withstand--he would go from her in that separation which is the body’s -death. She saw it all; there was division in her will and energies. -Opposing herself to the justice he had invoked, she influenced the -invasion of the elemental Powers, offering herself as channel in the -hope of saving him. Her human desire weighed the balance--turning it -just against him. Her insight clouded with emotion. She increased the -risk for him, and at the same time left open to the great invading -Powers another channel--the line of least resistance, the empty vehicle -all prepared within herself. - -To me it was mercilessly clear. I tried to speak, but found no words to -utter; my tongue refused to frame a single sound; nor could I move my -limbs. I heard Julius only, his voice calling like a distant storm. - -“I call upon the Fire and Wind to enter me, and pass to their eternal -home ... whence you and I ... and he ...” - -His voice fell curiously away into a gulf; there was weakness in it. I -saw her frail body shake from head to foot. She swayed as though about -to fall. And then her voice, strong as a bugle-call, rang out: - -“I claim it by--my _love_....!” - -There was a burst of wind, a rush of sheeted fire. Then darkness fell. -But in that instant before the fire passed, I saw his form stand close -before my eyes. The face, alight with compassion and resignation, was -turned towards her own. I saw the eyes; I saw the hands outstretched to -take her; the lips were parted in a final attempt at utterance which -never knew completion. And I knew--the certainty stopped the beating -of my heart--that he had failed. There was no actual sound. Like a -gleaming sword drawn swiftly from its scabbard, he rose past me through -the air, borne from his body, as it were, on wings of ascending flame. -There was a second of intolerable radiance, a rush of driving wind--and -he was gone. - -And far away, at the end of some stone corridor in the sunshine, yet -at the same time close beside me upon the floor of the little mountain -châlet, I heard the falling body as it dropped with a thud before my -feet--untenanted.... - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - - -I remember what followed very much as one remembers the confusion after -an anæsthetic--fragments of extraordinary dream and of sensational -experience jostling one another on the threshold of awakening. Then, -very swiftly, like a train of gorgeous colour disappearing into a -tunnel of darkness, the memory slipped down within me and was gone. The -Past with a rush of lightning swept back into its sheath. - -The glory and sense of exaltation, that is, were gone, but not the -memory that they had been. I knew what had happened, what I had felt, -seen, yearned for; but it was the cold facts alone remained, the -feelings that had accompanied them vanished. Into a dull, chilled world -I dropped back, wondering and terrified. A long interval had passed. - -And the first thing I realised was that Mrs. LeVallon still lay -sleeping in that chair of wicker--profoundly sleeping--that the lamp -had burned low, and that the châlet felt like ice. Her face, even in -the twilight, I saw was normal, the older expression gone. I turned the -wick up higher, noting as I did so that the paper strewn about me was -thick with writing, and it was then my half-dazed senses took in first -that Julius was not standing near us, and that a shadow, oddly shaped -and huddled, lay on the floor where the lamplight met the darkness. - -The moving portion seemed at once to disentangle itself from the rest, -and a face turned up to stare at me. It was the serving-man upon his -knees. The expression in his eyes did more to bring me to my normal -senses than anything else. That scared and anguished look made me -understand the truth--that, and the moaning that from time to time -escaped his lips. - -Of speech from him I hardly got a word; he was inarticulate to the last -as ever, and all that I could learn was that he had felt his master’s -danger and had come.... - -We carried the body upstairs and laid it on the bed. I strove to regard -it merely as the “instrument” _he_ had used awhile, strove to find -still his real undying Presence close to me--but that comfort failed me -too. The face was very white. Upon the pale marble features lay still -that signature of “Other Places” which haunted his life and soul. We -closed the staring eyes and covered him with a sheet. And there the -servant crouched upon the floor for the remaining five hours until the -dawn, when I came up from watching that other figure of sleep in the -room below, and found him in the same position. All that day as well -he watched indeed, until at last I made him realise that the sooner he -got the farmer’s horse below and summoned a doctor, the better for all -concerned. - -But that was many hours later in the day, and meanwhile he just -crouched there, difficult of approach, eyeing me savagely almost when -I came, his eyes aflame with a kind of ugly, sullen resentment, but -faithful to the last. What the silent, devoted being had heard or seen -during our long hours of sinister struggle and experiment, I never -knew, nor ever shall know. - -My memory hardly lingers upon that; nor upon the unprofitable detail of -the doctor’s tardy arrival in the evening, his ill-concealed suspicion -and eventual granting of a death certificate according to Swiss law; -nor, again, upon his obvious verdict of a violent heart-stroke, or the -course of procedure that he bade us follow. - -Even the distressing details of the burial have somewhat faded, and I -recall chiefly the fact that the Man established himself in the village -where the churchyard was and began his watch that kept him near the -grave, I believe, till death relieved him. My memory lingers rather -upon the hours that I watched beside the sleeping woman, and upon the -dreadful scene of her awakening and discovery of the truth. - -For hours we had the darkness and the silence to ourselves, a silence -broken only by the steady breathing of her slumber. I dared not wake -her; knowing that the trance condition in time exhausts itself and -the subject returns to normal waking consciousness without effort or -distress, I let her slumber on, dreading the moment when the eyes would -open and she must question me. The cold increased with the early hours -of the morning, and I spread a rug about her stretched-out form. Slowly -with the failing of the oil, the little lamp flame flickered and died, -then finally went out, leaving us in the chill gloom together. All heat -had long since left the fire of peat. - -It was a vigil never to be forgotten. My thoughts revolved the whole -time in one and the same circle, seeking in vain support from common -things. Slowly and by degrees my mind found steadiness, though with -returning balance my pain grew keener and more searching. The poignant -minutes stretched to days and years. For ever I fell to reconstructing -those vanished scenes of memory, while striving to believe that the -whole thing had been but a detailed vivid dream, and that presently -I, too, should awake to find our life in the châlet as before, Julius -still alive and close.... - -The moaning from the room overhead, where the Man watched over that -other, final sleep, then brought bitterly again the sad reality, and -set my thoughts whirling afresh with anguish. I was distraught and -trembling.... London and my lectures, the recent climbing in the -Dolomites, cities and trains and the business of daily modern life, -these were the dreams.... The reality, truth, lay in that world of -vision just departed ... Concerighé, Silvatela, the woman of that -ancient, splendid past, the re-capture of the Temple Days when we three -trod together that strange path of questing; the broken fragment of -it all; the Chamber of the Vacated Bodies, and the sin of long ago; -then, chief of all, the attempt to banish the Powers, evoked in those -distant ages, back to their eternal home--_his_ effort to offer himself -as channel--_her_ fear to lose him and her offering of herself--the -failure ... and that appalling result upstairs. - -For, ever and again, my thoughts returned to that: the spirit of the -chief transgressor hovering now without a body, waiting for the River -of the Lives to bring in some dim future another opportunity for -atonement. - -The failure...! In the glimmer of that pale, cold dawn I watched the -outline of her slumbering form. I remembered her cry of sacrificing -love that drew the great rushing Powers down into herself, and thus -into the unresisting little body gathered now in growth against her -heart. That human love the world deems great, seeking to save him -to her own distress, had only blocked the progress of his soul she -yearned to protect, so little understanding.... I heard her deep-drawn -breathing in the darkness and wondered ... for the child that she would -bear ... come to our modern strife and worldly things with this freight -of elemental forces linked about his human heart and mind--fierce child -of Wind and Fire...! A “natural,” perhaps a “super-natural” being.... - -This sense of woe and passion, haunting my long, silent vigil from -night to dawn, and after it when the sunshine of the September morning -lit the room and turned her face to silver--this it is that, after so -many years, clings to the memory as though of yesterday. - -And then, without a sign or movement to prepare me, I saw that the eyes -had opened and were fixed upon my face. - -The whispered words came instantly: - -“Where is he? Has he gone away?” - -Stupid with distress and pain, my heart was choked. I stared blankly in -return, the channels of speech too blocked to find a single syllable. - -I raised my hands, though hardly knowing what I meant to do. She sat -up in the chair and looked a moment swiftly about the room. Her lips -parted for another question, but it did not come. I think in my face, -or in my gesture perhaps, she read the message of despair. She hid her -face behind her hands, leaned back with a dreadful drooping of the -entire frame, and let a sigh escape her that held the substance of all -unutterable words of grief. - -I yearned to help, but it was my silence, of course, that brought the -truth so swiftly home to her returning consciousness. The awakening -was complete and rapid, not as out of common sleep. I longed to touch -and comfort her, yet my muscles refused to yield in any action I could -manage, and my tongue clung dry against the roof of my mouth. - -Then, presently, between her fingers came the words below a whisper: - -“I knew that this would happen ... I knew that once I slept, he’d go -from me ... and I should lose him. I tried ... that hard ... to keep -awake.... But sleep _would_ take me. An’ now ... it’s took him ... too. -He’s gone for--for very long ... again!” She did not say “for ever.” - -It was the voice, the accent and the words again of Mrs. LeVallon. - -“Not for ever,” I whispered, “but for a little time.” - -She rose up like a figure of white death, taking my hand. She did not -tremble, and her step was firm. And more than this I never heard her -say, for the entire contents of the interval since she first fell -asleep beneath her husband’s passes had gone beyond recall. - -“Take me to him,” she said gently. “I want to say good-bye.” - -I led her up those creaking wooden stairs and left her with her dead. - -Her strength was wonderful. I can never forget the quiet self-control -she showed through all the wretched details that the situation then -entailed. She asked no questions, shed no tears, moving brave and calm -through all the ghastly duties. Something in her that lay deeper than -death understood, and with the resignation of a truly great heart, -accepted. Far stronger than myself she was; and, indeed, it seemed -that my pain for her--at the time anyhow--absorbed the suffering -that made my own heart ache with a sense of loss that has ever since -left me empty and bereaved. Only in her eyes was there betrayal of -sorrow that was itself, perhaps, another half revival of yet dimmer -memories ... “eyes in which desire of some strange thing unutterably -burned, unquenchable....” For the first time I understood the truth of -another’s words--so like a statue was her appearance, so set in stone, -her words so sparing and her voice so dead: - - “_I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; - That only men incredulous of despair, - Half taught in anguish, through the midnight air - Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access - Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness - In souls as countries lieth silent-bare...._” - -Her soul lay silent-bare; her grief was hopeless.... To my shame it -must be confessed that I longed to escape from all the strain and -nightmare of what had passed. The few days had been charged with -material for a lifetime. I knew the sharp desire to find myself in -touch once more with common, wholesome things--with London noise and -bustle, trains, telephones and daily newspapers, with stupid students -who could not even remember what they had learned the previous -week, and with all the great majority who never even dreamed of a -consciousness less restricted than their own. I saw the matter through, -however, to the bitter end, and did not lose sight of Mrs. LeVallon -until I left her safely in Lausanne, and helped her find a woman who -should be both maid and companion, at least for the immediate future. -It cannot be of interest or value to relate here. She did not cross my -path again; while, on the other hand, it has never been possible for -me to forget her. To this day I hear her voice and accent, I feel the -touch of that hand that drew me softly into such depths of inexplicable -vision; above all, I see her luminous, strange eyes and her movements -of strange grace across the châlet floor.... And sometimes, even now, I -half ... remember. - -Yet never, till after this long interval of years, could I bring myself -to set down any record of what had happened. Perhaps--most probably, I -think--I feared that dwelling upon the haunting details that writing -would involve might revive too obsessingly the memory of an experience -so curiously overwhelming. - -Now time has brought the necessity, as it were, of this confession; -and I have done my best with material that really resists the mould of -language, at least as I can use it. Later reading--for I devoured the -best authorities and ransacked even the most extravagant records in -my quest--has come to throw a little curious light upon some parts of -it; and the results of this subsequent study no doubt appear in this -report. At the time, however, I was ignorant of all such things, and -the effect upon me of what I witnessed thus for the first time may be -judged accordingly. It was dislocating. - -Two facts alone remain to mention. And the first seems to me perhaps -the most singular of the entire experience. For the pages I had covered -with writing showed suddenly an abrupt and extraordinary change of -script. Although the earlier sheets were in my own handwriting, roughly -jotting down question and reply as they fell from the lips of Julius -or his wife, there came midway in them this inexplicable change that -altered them into the illegible scribble of a language that I could not -read, yet recognised. It changed into that curious kind of ideograph -that Julius used at school, that he showed me many a time in the sand -at the end of the football field where we used to lie and talk, and -that he claimed then was the ancient sacerdotal cipher we had used -together in our remotest “Temple Days.” I cannot read a word of it, nor -can any to whom I have shown it decipher a single outline. The change -began, it seems, at the point where “Mrs. LeVallon” went “deeper” at -his word of command, and entered the layer of memories that dealt with -that most ancient “section.” This accounts, too, for the confusion -and incompleteness of my record as written. A page of this script is -framed upon my walls to-day; my eye rests on it as I write these words -upon a modern typewriter--in Streatham. - -The other fact I have to mention might well be the starting point for -study and observation of an interesting kind. Yet, though it sorely -tempted me, I resisted the temptation, and now, after twenty years, -it is too late, and I, too old. This record, if published, may fall -beneath the eye of someone to whom the chance and the desire may -possibly combine to bring the opportunity. - -For some weeks after the events that have been here described, Mrs. -LeVallon gave birth to a boy, surviving him, alas! by but a single day. - -This I heard long afterwards by the merest chance. But my strenuous -efforts to trace the child proved unavailing, and I only learned that -he was adopted by a French family whose name even was not given to me. -If alive he would be now about twenty years of age. - - - - -PRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C. - - - - -Transcriber’s Note: - -Variations in hyphenations have been retained as they appear -in the original publication. Changes have been made as follows: - - Page 26 - euclid, mathematics, and the dead languages _changed to_ - Euclid, mathematics, and the dead languages - - Page 36 - the coming of a--third _changed to_ - the coming of a--third. - - Page 178 - by surprise, as it were.” _changed to_ - by surprise, as it were. - - Page 271 - Le Vallon’s personality and _changed to_ - LeVallon’s personality and - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Julius LeVallon, by Algernon Blackwood - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIUS LEVALLON *** - -***** This file should be named 50107-0.txt or 50107-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/1/0/50107/ - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Julius LeVallon - An Episode - -Author: Algernon Blackwood - -Release Date: October 1, 2015 [EBook #50107] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIUS LEVALLON *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class="showhand"> -<p class="center">The cover has been created by the transcriber using -elements from the original publication and placed in the public domain.</p> -</div> - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<h1 class="smcap">Julius LeVallon</h1> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div> - - -<div class="hidehand"> -<div class="figcenter width500"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" height="763" alt="Cover" /> -<p class="center">The cover has been created by the transcriber using -elements from the original publication and placed in the public domain.</p> -</div></div> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<p class="title"><span class="p200">Julius LeVallon</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="p150">An Episode</span></p> - -<p class="title mt4"><span class="p110">By</span><br /> -<span class="p180">Algernon Blackwood</span></p> - -<p class="title"><em>Author of “The Centaur,” “John Silence,” -“The Human Chord,” etc.</em></p> - -<div class="figcenter width30"> -<img src="images/title.png" width="30" height="38" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="title"><span class="p120">Cassell and Company, Ltd</span><br /> -<span class="p110">London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne</span></p> -</div> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="tb" /> -<p class="title">First published 1916</p> -</div> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="tb" /> -<p class="title">TO<br /> -M. S-K.<br /> -(1906)</p> -</div> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<h2>Contents</h2> -</div> -<table summary="Content"> -<tr> -<td> </td> -<td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><em>BOOK I</em></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Schooldays</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Schooldays">3</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><em>BOOK II</em></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Edinburgh</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Edinburgh">77</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><em>BOOK III</em></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Châlet in the Jura Mountains</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Chalet">149</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><em>BOOK IV</em></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Attempted Restitution</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Attempted">267</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<h2><a name="Schooldays" id="Schooldays"></a>Book I<br /> -SCHOOLDAYS</h2> -</div> - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="tb" /> -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>Dream faces bloom around your face</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>Like flowers upon one stem;</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>The heart of many a vanished race</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>Sighs as I look on them.</em>”</div> -</div> -<div class="right">A. E.</div></div> -</div></div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span> -<h3><span class="p150">Julius LeVallon</span><br /><br /><br /> -<a name="I" id="I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> -<p>“<em>Surely death acquires a new and deeper significance when we -regard it no longer as a single and unexplained break in an -unending life, but as part of the continually recurring rhythm -of progress—as inevitable, as natural, and as benevolent as -sleep.</em>”—“Some Dogmas of Religion” (Prof. J. M’Taggart).</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was one autumn in the late ’nineties that I found myself at Bâle, -awaiting letters. I was returning leisurely from the Dolomites, where -a climbing holiday had combined pleasantly with an examination of the -geologically interesting Monzoni Valley. When the claims of the latter -were exhausted, however, and I turned my eyes towards the peaks, it -happened that bad weather held permanent possession of the great grey -cliffs and towering pinnacles, and climbing was out of the question -altogether. A world of savage desolation gloomed down upon me through -impenetrable mists; the scouts of winter’s advance had established -themselves upon all possible points of attack; and the whole tossed -wilderness of precipice and scree lay safe, from my assaults at least, -behind a frontier of furious autumn storms.</p> - -<p>Having ample time before my winter’s work in London, I turned my back -upon the unconquered Marmolata and Cimon della Pala, and made my way -slowly, via Bozen and Innsbruck, to Bâle; and it was in the latter -place, where my English correspondence was kind enough to overtake me, -that I found one letter in particular that interested me more than all -the others put together. It bore a Swiss stamp; and the handwriting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span> -caused me a thrill of anticipatory excitement even before I had -consciously recalled the name of the writer. It was addressed before -and behind till there was scarcely room left for a postmark, and it had -journeyed from my chambers to my club, from my club to the university, -and thence, by way of various poste-restantes, from one hotel to -another till, with good luck little short of marvellous, it discovered -me in my room of the Trois Rois Hotel overlooking the Rhine.</p> - -<p>The signature, to which I turned at once before reading the body of the -message, was Julius LeVallon; and as my eye noted the firm and very -individual writing, once of familiar and potent significance in my -life, I was conscious that emotions of twenty years ago woke vigorously -into being, releasing sensations and memories I had thought buried -beyond all effective resurrection. I knew myself swept back to those -hopes and fears that, all these years before, had been—me. The letter -was brief; it ran as follows:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="mb"><span class="smcap">Friend of a million years</span>,—Should you remember your -promise, given to me at Edinburgh twenty years ago, I write to -tell you that I am ready. Yours, especially in separation,</p> -<p class="mt mb right2 smcap">Julius LeVallon.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>And then followed two lines of instructions how to reach him in the -isolated little valley of the Jura Mountains, on the frontier between -France and Switzerland, whence he wrote.</p> - -<p>The wording startled me; but this surprise, not unmingled with -amusement, gave place immediately to emotions of a deeper and much -more complex order, as I drew an armchair to the window and resigned -myself, half pleasurably, half uneasily, to the flood of memories -that rose from the depths and besieged me with their atmosphere of -half-forgotten boyhood and of early youth. Pleasurably, because my -curiosity was aroused abruptly to a point my dull tutorial existence -now rarely, if ever, knew; uneasily, because these early associations -grouped themselves about the somewhat unearthly figure of a man with -whom once I had been closely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span> intimate, but who had since disappeared -behind a veil of mystery to follow pursuits where danger to body, mind -and soul—it seemed to me—must be his constant attendant.</p> - -<p>For Julius LeVallon, or Julius, as he was known to me in our school -and university days, had been once a name to conjure with; a -personality who evoked for me a world more vast and splendid, horizons -wider, vistas of possibilities more dazzling, than any I have since -known—which have contracted, in fact, with my study of an exact -science to a dwindled universe of pettier scale and measurement;—and -wherein, formerly, with all the terror and delight of vividly imagined -adventure, we moved side by side among strange experiences and -fascinating speculations.</p> - -<p>The name brings back the face and figure of as singular an individual -as I have ever known who, but for my saving streak of common sense and -inability to imagine beyond a certain point, might well have swept me -permanently into his own region of research and curious experiment. -As it was, up to the time when I felt obliged to steer my course away -from him, he found my nature of great assistance in helping him to -reconstruct his detailed mental pictures of the past; we were both “in -the same boat together,” as he constantly assured me—this boat that -travelled down the river of innumerable consecutive lives; and there -can be no doubt that my cautious questionings—lack of perspective, he -termed it—besides checking certain aspects of his conception, saved -us at the same time from results that must have proved damaging to our -reputations, if not injurious actually to our persons, physically and -mentally. Yet that he captured me so completely at the time was due -to an innate sympathy I felt towards his theories, a sympathy that at -times amounted to complete acceptance. I freely admit this sympathy. He -used another word for it, however: he called it Memory.</p> - -<p>As a boy, Julius LeVallon was beyond question one of the strangest -beings that ever wore a mortar-board,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span> or lent his soul and body to the -conventionalities of an English private school.</p> - -<p>I recall, as of yesterday, my first sight of him, and the vivid -impression, startling as of shock, he then produced: the sensitive, -fine face, pallid as marble, the thatch of tumbling dark hair, and the -eyes of changing greeny blue that shone unlike any English eyes I have -ever looked upon before or since. “Giglamps” the other boys called -them, of course; but when you caught them through the black hair that -straggled over the high white forehead, they somehow conveyed the -impression of twin lanterns, now veiled, now clear, seen through the -tangled shadows of a twilight wood. Unlike the eyes of most dreamers, -they looked keenly within, rather than vaguely beyond; and I recall to -this day the sharp, half disquieting effect produced upon my mind as a -new boy the first instant I saw them—that here was an individual who -somehow stood aloof from the mob of noisy, mischief-loving youngsters -all about him, and had little in common with the world in which this -school was a bustling, practical centre of educational energy.</p> - -<p>Nor is it that I recall that first sight with the added judgment of -later years. I insist that this moment of his entrance into my life -was accompanied by an authentic thrill of wonder that announced his -presence to my nerves, or even deeper, to my very soul. My sympathetic -nervous system was instinctively aware of him. He came upon me with a -kind of rush for which the proper word is startling; there was nothing -gradual about it; its nature was electrifying; and in some sense he -certainly captivated me, for, immediately upon knowing him, this -opening wonder merged in a deep affection of a kind so intimate, so -fearless, so familiar, that it seemed to me that I must, somewhere, -somehow, have known him always. For years to come it bound me to his -side. To the end, moreover, I never quite lost something of that -curious first impression, that he moved, namely, in an outer world -that did not claim him; that those luminous, inward-peering eyes saw -but dimly the objects we call real; that he saw them as counters in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span> -some trivial game he deemed it not worth while to play; that while, -perforce, he used them like the rest of us, their face-value was as -naught compared to what they symbolised; that, in a word, he stood -apart from the vulgar bustle of ordinary ambitious life, and above -it, in a region by himself where he was forever questing issues of -infinitely greater value.</p> - -<p>For a boy of fifteen, as I then was, this seems much to have discerned. -At the time I certainly phrased it all less pompously in my own -small mind. But that first sense of shock remains: I yearned to know -him, to stand where he stood, to be exactly like him. And our speedy -acquaintance did not overwhelm me as it ought to have done—for a -singular reason; I felt oddly that somehow or other I had the <em>right</em> -to know him instantly.</p> - -<p>Imagination, no doubt, was stronger in me at that time than it is -to-day; my mind more speculative, my soul, perhaps, more sensitively -receptive. At any rate the insignificant and very ordinary personality -I own at present has since largely recovered itself. If Julius LeVallon -was one in a million, I know that I can never expect to be more than -one <em>of</em> a million. And it is something in middle age to discover that -one can appreciate the exceptional in others without repining at its -absence in oneself.</p> - -<p>Julius was two forms above me, and for a day or two after my arrival -at mid-term, it appears he was in the sick-room with one of those -strange nervous illnesses that came upon him through life at intervals, -puzzling the doctors and alarming those responsible for his well-being; -accompanied, too, by symptoms that to-day would be recognised, I -imagine, as evidence of a secondary personality. But on the third -or fourth day, just as afternoon “Preparation” was beginning and we -were all shuffling down upon our wooden desks with a clatter of books -and pens, the door beside the great blackboard opened, and a figure -stole into the room, tall, slender, and unsubstantial as a shadow, yet -intensely real.</p> - -<p>“Hullo! Giglamps back again!” whispered the boy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> on my left, and -another behind me sniggered audibly “Jujubes”—thus Julius was -sometimes paraphrased—“tired of shamming at last!” Then Hurrish, the -master in charge, whose head had been hidden a moment behind his desk, -closed the lid and turned. He greeted the boy with a few kind words -of welcome which, of course, I have forgotten; yet, so strange are -the freaks of memory, and so instantaneous and prophetic the first -intuitions of sympathy or aversion, that I distinctly recall that I -liked Hurrish for his words, and was grateful to him for his kindly -attitude towards a boy whose very existence had hitherto been unknown -to me. Already, before I knew his name, Julius LeVallon meant, at any -rate, this to me.</p> - -<p>But from that instant the shadow became most potently real substance. -The boy moved forward to his desk, looked about him as though to miss -no face, and almost immediately across that big room full of heads and -shoulders saw—myself.</p> - -<p>That something of psychical import passed swiftly between us is -indubitable, for while Julius visibly started, pausing a moment in his -walk and staring as though he would swallow me with his eyes, there -flashed upon my own mind a thought so vivid, so precise, that it took -actual sentence form, and before I could possibly have imagined or -invented an idea so uncorrelated with a previous experience of any kind -at all, I heard myself murmuring: “He’s found me...!”</p> - -<p>It seemed audible, at least. I hid my face a second, thinking I had -spoken it aloud. No one looked at me, however; Hurrish made no comment. -My name did not sound terribly across the class-room. The sentence, -after all, had remained a thought. But that it leaped into my mind at -all seems to me now, as it did at the time, significant.</p> - -<p>His eyes rested for the fraction of a second on my face as he crossed -the floor, and I felt—but how describe it intelligibly?—as though -a wind had risen and caught me up into another place where there was -great light and an impression of vast distances. Hypnotic we should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span> -call it to-day; hypnotic let it be. I can only affirm how, with that -single glance from a boy but slightly older than myself, seen then for -the first time, and with no word yet spoken, there came back to me a -larger sense of life, and of the meaning of life. I became aware of an -extended world, of wonder, movement, adventure on a scale immensely -grander than anything I found about me among known external things. But -I became aware—“again.” In earlier childhood I had known this bigger -world. It suddenly flashed over me that time stretched <em>behind</em> me as -well as before—and that I stretched back with it. Something scared -me, I remember, with a faint stirring as of old pains and pleasures -suffered long ago. The face and eyes that called into being these -fancies, so oddly touched with alarm, were like those seen sometimes in -dreams that never venture into daily life—things of composite memory, -no doubt, that bring with them an atmosphere, and a range of query, -nothing in normal waking life can even suggest.</p> - -<p>He passed to his place in front of Hurrish’s desk among the upper -forms, and a sea of tousled heads intervened to hide him from my sight; -but as he went the afternoon sunshine fell through the unfrosted half -of the window, and in later years—now, in fact, as I hold his letter -in my hand and re-collect these vanished memories—I still see him -coming into my life with the golden sunlight about his head and his -face wrapped in its halo. I see it reflected in the lamping eyes, -glistening on the mop of dark hair, shining on the pallid face with -its high expression of other-worldliness and yearning remote from the -chaos of modern life.... It was a long time before I managed to bring -myself down again to parse the verbs in that passage of <em>Hecuba</em>, for, -if anything, I have understated rather than exaggerated the effect -that this first sight of Julius LeVallon produced upon my feelings and -imagination. Some one, lost through ages but ever seeking me, rose -suddenly and spoke: “So here you are, at last! I’ve found you. We’ve -found each other again!”</p> - -<p>To say more could only be to elaborate the memory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> with knowledge -that came later, and thus to distort the first simple and profound -impression. I merely wish to present, as it occurred, the picture of -this wizard face appearing suddenly above the horizon of my small -schoolboy world, staring with that deep suggestion of having travelled -down upon me from immense distances <em>behind</em>, bringing fugitive and -ghostly sensations of things known long ago, and hinting very faintly, -as I have tried to describe, of vanished pains and alarms—yet of -sufferings so ancient that to touch them even with the tenderest of -words is to make them crumble into dust and disappear.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> -<h3><a name="II" id="II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> -<p>“<em>‘Body,’ observes Plotinus, ‘is the true river of Lethe.’ -The memory of definite events in former lives can hardly come -easily to a consciousness allied with brain.... Bearing in mind -also that even our ordinary definite memories slowly become -indefinite, and that most drop altogether out of notice, we -shall attach no importance to the naïve question, ‘Why does not -Smith remember who he was before?’ It would be an exceedingly -strange fact if he did, a new Smith being now in evidence along -with a new brain and nerves. Still, it is conceivable that such -remembrances occasionally arise. Cerebral process, conscious or -subconscious, is psychical.</em>”—“Individual and Reality” (E. D. -Fawcett).</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Looking</span> back upon this entrance, not from the present long interval -of twenty years, but from a point much nearer to it, and consequently -more sympathetically in touch with my own youth, I must confess that -his presence—his arrival, as it seemed—threw a momentary clear light -of electric sharpness upon certain “inner scenery” that even at this -period of my boyhood was already beginning to fade away into dimness -and “mere imagining.” Which brings me to a reluctant confession I feel -bound to make. I say “reluctant,” because at the present time I feel -intellectually indisposed to regard that scenery as real. Its origin I -know not; its reality at the time I alone can vouch for. Many children -have similar experiences, I believe; with myself it was exceptionally -vivid.</p> - -<p>Ever since I could remember, my childhood days were charged with -it—haunting and stimulating recollections that were certainly derived -from nothing in this life, nor owed their bright reality to anything -seen or read or heard. They influenced all my early games, my secret -make-believe, my magical free hours after lessons. I dreamed them, -played them, lived them, and nothing delighted me so much as to be -alone on half-holidays in summer out of doors, or on winter evenings -in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> empty schoolroom, so that I might reconstruct for myself the -gorgeous detail of their remote, elusive splendour. For the presence -of others, even of my favourite playmates, ruined their reality with -criticising questions, and a doubt as to their genuineness was an -intrusion upon their sacredness my youthful heart desired to prevent -by—killing it at once. Their nature it would be wearisome to detail, -but I may mention that their grandeur was of somewhat mixed authority, -and that if sometimes I was a general like Gideon, against whom -Amalekites and such like were the merest insects, at others I was a -High Priest in some huge, dim-sculptured Temple whose magnificence -threw Moses and the Bible tabernacles into insignificance.</p> - -<p>Yet it was upon these glories, and upon this sacred inner scenery, that -the arrival of Julius LeVallon threw a new daylight of stark intensity. -He made them live again. His coming made them awfully real. They had -been fading. Going to school was, it seemed, a finishing touch of -desolating destruction. I felt obliged to give them up and be a man. -Thus ignored, disowned, forgotten of set deliberation, they sank out of -sight and were prepared to disappear, when suddenly his arrival drew -the entire panorama delightfully into the great light of day again. His -presence re-touched, re-coloured the entire series. He made them true.</p> - -<p>It would take too long, besides inviting the risk of unconscious -invention, were I to attempt in detail the description of our growing -intimacy. Moreover, I believe it is true that the intimacy did not grow -at all, but suddenly, incomprehensibly <em>was</em>. At any rate, I remember -with distinctness our first conversation. The hour’s “prep.” was over, -and I was in the yard, lonely and disconsolate as a new boy, watching -the others playing tip-and-run against the high enclosing wall, when -Julius LeVallon came up suddenly behind me, and I turned expectantly at -the sound of his almost stealthy step. He came softly. He was smiling. -In the falling dusk he looked more shadow-like than ever. He wore the -school cap at the back of his head, where it clung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> to his tumbling -hair like some absurd disguise circumstances forced him to adopt for -the moment.</p> - -<p>And my heart gave a bound of excitement at the sound of his voice. In -some strange way the whole thing seemed familiar. I had expected this. -It had happened before. And, very swiftly, a fragment of that inner -scenery, laid like a theatre-inset against the playground of to-day, -flashed through the depths of me, then vanished.</p> - -<p>“What is your name?” he asked me, very gently.</p> - -<p>“Mason,” I told him, conscious that I flushed and almost stammered. -“John Mason. I’m a new boy.” Then, although my brother, formerly Head -of the school, had already gone on to Winchester, I added “Mason -secundus.” My outer self felt shy, but another, deeper self realised -a sense of satisfaction that was pleasure. I was aware of a desire to -seize his hand and utter something of this bigger, happier sensation. -The strength of school convention, however, prevented anything of the -sort. I was at first embarrassed by the attention of a bigger boy, and -showed it.</p> - -<p>He looked closely into my face a moment, as though searching for -something, but so penetratingly that I felt his eyes actually -inside me. The information I had given did not seem to interest him -particularly. At the same time I was conscious that his near presence -affected me in a curious way, for I lost the feeling that this -attention to a new boy was flattering and unusual, and became aware -that there was something of great importance he wished to say to me. It -was all right and natural. There was something he desired to find out -and know: it was not my name. A vague yet profound emotion troubled me.</p> - -<p>He spoke then, slowly, earnestly; the voice gentle and restrained, but -the expression in the eyes and face so grave, almost so solemn, that it -seemed an old and experienced man who addressed me, instead of a boy -barely sixteen years of age.</p> - -<p>“Have you then ... quite ... forgotten ... everything?” he asked, -making dramatic pauses thus between the words.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span></p> - -<p>And, singular in its abruptness though the question was, there flashed -upon me even while he uttered it, a sensation, a mood, a memory—I -hardly know what to call it—that made the words intelligible. It -dawned upon me that I <em>had</em> “forgotten ... everything ... quite”: -crowded, glorious, ancient things, that somehow or other I ought -to have remembered. A faint sense of guiltiness accompanied the -experience. I felt disconcerted, half ashamed.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid ... I have,” came my faltering reply. Though bewildered, I -raised my eyes to his. I looked straight at him. “I’m—Mason secundus -... now....”</p> - -<p>His eyes, I saw, came up, as it were, from their deep searching. They -rested quietly upon my own, with a reassuring smile that made them -kindly and understanding as those of my own father. He put his hand on -my shoulder in a protective fashion that gave me an intense desire to -remember all the things he wished me to remember, and thus to prove -myself worthy of his interest and attention. The desire in me was -ardent, serious. Its fervency, moreover, seemed to produce an effect, -for immediately there again rose before my inner vision that flashing -scenery I had “imagined” as a child.</p> - -<p>Possibly something in my face betrayed the change. His expression, at -any rate, altered instantly as though he recognised what was happening.</p> - -<p>“You’re Mason secundus now,” he said more quickly. “I know that. -But—can you remember nothing of the Other Places? Have you quite -forgotten when—we were together?”</p> - -<p>He stopped abruptly, repeating the last three words almost beneath -his breath. His eyes rested on mine with such pleasure and expectancy -in them that for the moment the world I stood in melted out, the -playground faded, the shouts of cricket ceased, and I seemed to forget -entirely who or where I was. It was as though other times, other -feelings, other scenery battled against the actual present, claiming -me, sweeping me away, extending the sense of personal identity towards -a previous series. Seductive the sensation was beyond belief, yet -at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> the same time disturbing. I wholly ignored the flattery of this -kindness from an older boy. A series of vivid pictures, more familiar -than the nursery, more distant than a dream of years ago, swam up -from some inner region of my being like memories of places, people, -adventures I had actually lived and seen. The near presence of Julius -LeVallon drew them upwards in a stream above the horizon of some -temporarily veiled oblivion.</p> - -<p>“... in the Other Places,” his voice continued with a droning sound -that was like the sea a long way off, or like wind among the branches -of a tree.</p> - -<p>And something in me leaped automatically to acknowledge the truth I -suddenly realised.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes!” I cried, no shyness in me any more, and plunged into myself -to seize the flying pictures and arrest their sliding, disappearing -motion. “I remember, oh, I remember ... a whole lot of ... dreams ... -or things like made-up adventures I once had ages and ages ago ... with -...” I hesitated a second. A rising and inexplicable excitement stopped -my words. I was shaking all over. “... with you!” I added boldly, or -rather the words seemed to add themselves inevitably. “It was with you, -sir?”</p> - -<p>He nodded his head slightly and smiled. I think the “sir,” sounding so -incongruous, caused the smile.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said in his soft, low voice, “it was with me. Only they were -not dreams. They were real. There’s no good denying what’s real; it -only prevents your remembering properly.”</p> - -<p>The way he said it held conviction as of sunrise, but anyhow denial in -myself seemed equally to have disappeared. Deep within me a sense of -reality answered willingly to his own.</p> - -<p>“And myself?” he went on gently yet eagerly at the same time, his eyes -searching my own. “Don’t you remember—me? Have I, too, gone quite -beyond recall?”</p> - -<p>But with truth my answer came at once:</p> - -<p>“Something ... perhaps ... comes back to me ... a little,” I stammered. -For while aware of a keen sensation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> that I talked with someone I knew -as well as I knew my own father, nothing at the moment seemed wholly -real to me except his sensitive, pale face with the large and beautiful -eyes so keenly peering, and the tangled hair escaping under that -ridiculous school cap. The pine trees in the cricket-field rose into -the fading sky behind him, and I remember being puzzled to determine -where his hair stopped and the feathery branches began.</p> - -<p>“... carrying the spears up the long stone steps in the sunshine,” -his voice murmured on with a sound like running water, “and the old -man in the robe of yellow standing at the top ... and orchards below, -all white and pink with blossoms dropping in the wind ... and miles -of plain in blue distances far away, the river winding ... and birds -fishing in the shallow places ...”</p> - -<p>The picture flashed into my mind. I saw it. I remembered it in detail -as easily as any childhood scene of a few years ago, but yet through -a blur of summery haze and at the end of a stupendous distance that -reduced the scale to lilliputian proportions. I looked down the wrong -end of a telescope at it all. The appalling distance—and something -else as well I was at a loss to define—frightened me a little.</p> - -<p>“I ... my people, I mean ... live in Sussex,” I remember saying -irrelevantly in my bewilderment, “and my father’s a clergyman.” It was -the upper part of me that said it, no doubt anticipating the usual -question “What’s your father?” My voice had a lifeless, automatic sound.</p> - -<p>“That’s now,” LeVallon interrupted almost impatiently. “It’s thinking -of these things that hides the others.”</p> - -<p>Then he smiled, leaning against the wall beside me while the sunset -flamed upon the clouds above us and the tide of noisy boys broke, -tumbling about our feet. I see those hurrying clouds, crimson and gold, -that scrimmage of boys in the school playground, and Julius LeVallon -gazing into my eyes, his expression rapt and eager—I see it now across -the years as plainly as I saw that flash of inner scenery far, far -away. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span> even hear his low voice speaking. The whole, strange mood that -rendered the conversation not too incredibly fantastic at the time -comes over me again as I think of it.</p> - -<p>He went on in that murmuring tone, putting true words to the pictures -that rolled clearly through me:</p> - -<p>“... and the burning sunlight on the white walls of the building ... -the cool deep shadows where we talked and slept ... the shouting of -the armies in the distance ... with the glistening of the spears and -shining shields ...”</p> - -<p>Mixed curiously together, kaleidoscopic, running one into the other -without sharp outlines of beginning or end, the scenes fled past me -like the pages of a coloured picture-book. I saw figures plainly, more -plainly than the scenery beyond. The man in the yellow robe looked -close into my eyes, so close, indeed, I could almost hear him speak. -He vanished, and a woman took his place. Her back was to me. She stood -motionless, her hands upraised, and a gesture of passionate entreaty -about her plunged me suddenly into a sea of whirling, poignant drama -that had terror in it. The blood rushed to my head. My heart beat -violently. I knew a moment of icy horror—that she would turn—and I -should recognise her face—worse, that she would recognise my own. -I experienced actual fear, a shrinking dread of something that was -nameless. Escape was impossible, I could neither move nor speak, nor -alter any single detail in this picture which—most terrifying of -all—I knew contained somewhere too—myself. But she did not turn; I -did not see her face. She vanished like the rest ... and I next saw -quick, running figures with skins of reddish brown, circlets of iron -about their foreheads and red tassels hanging from their loin cloths. -The scene had shifted.</p> - -<p>“... when we lit the signal fires upon the hills,” the voice of -LeVallon broke in softly, looking over his shoulder lest we be -disturbed, “and lay as sentinels all night beside the ashes ... till -the plain showed clearly in the sunrise with the encampments marked -over it like stones ...”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span></p> - -<p>I saw the blue plain fading into distance, and across it a -swiftly-moving cloud of dust that was ominous in character, presaging -attack. Again the scene shifted noiselessly as a picture on a screen, -and a deserted village slid before me, with small houses built of -undressed stone, and roomy paddocks, abandoned to the wild deer from -the hills. I smelt the keen, fresh air and the scent of wild flowers. -A figure, carrying a small blue stick, passed with tearing rapidity up -the empty street.</p> - -<p>“... when you were a Runner to the tribe,” the voice stepped curiously -in from a world outside it all, “carrying warnings to the House of -Messengers ... and I held the long night-watches upon the passes, -signalling with the flaming torches to those below ...”</p> - -<p>“But so far away, so dim, so awfully small, that I can hardly——”</p> - -<p>The world of to-day broke in upon my voice, and I stopped, not quite -aware of what I had been about to say. Martin, the Fourth Form and -Mathematical Master, had come up unobserved by either of us, and was -eyeing LeVallon and myself somewhat curiously. It was afterwards, of -course, that I discovered who the interrupter was. I only knew at the -moment that I disliked the look of him, and also that I felt somehow -guilty.</p> - -<p>“New boy in tow, LeVallon?” he remarked casually, the tone and manner -betraying ill-concealed disapproval. The change of key, both in its -character and its abruptness, seemed ugly, almost dreadful. It was so -trivial.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. It’s young Mason.” LeVallon answered at once, touching his -cap respectfully, but by no means cordially.</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said the master dryly. “He’s fortunate to find a friend so soon. -Tell him we look to him to follow his brother’s example and become Head -of the school one day perhaps.” I got the impression, how I cannot say, -that Martin stood in awe of LeVallon, was even a little afraid of him -as well. He would gladly have “scored off” him if it were possible. -There was a touch of spite in his voice, perhaps.</p> - -<p>“We knew one another before, sir,” I heard Julius say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> quietly, as -though his attention to a new boy required explanation—to Martin.</p> - -<p>I could hardly believe my ears. This extraordinary boy was indeed in -earnest. He had not the smallest intention of saying what was untrue. -He said what he actually believed. I saw him touch his cap again in -the customary manner, and Martin, the under-master, shrugging his -shoulders, passed on without another word. It is difficult to describe -the dignity LeVallon put into that trivial gesture of conventional -respect, or in what way Martin gained a touch of honour from it that -really was no part of his commonplace personality. Yet I can remember -perfectly well that this was so, and that I deemed LeVallon more -wonderful than ever from that moment for being able to exact deference -even from an older man who was a Form Master and a Mathematical Master -into the bargain. For LeVallon, it seemed to me, had somehow positively -dismissed him.</p> - -<p>Yet, to such extent did the pictures in my mind dominate the playground -where our bodies stood, that I almost expected to see the master go -down the “long stone steps towards the sunny orchard below”—instead -of walk up and cuff young Green who was destroying the wall by picking -out the mortar from between the bricks. That wall, and the white wall -in the dazzling sunshine seemed, as it were, to interpenetrate each -other. The break of key caused by the interruption, however, was barely -noticeable. The ugliness vanished instantly. Julius was speaking again -as though nothing had happened. He had been speaking for some little -time before I took in what the words were:</p> - -<p>“... with the moonlight gleaming on the bosses of the shields ... the -sleet of flying arrows ... and the hissing of the javelins ...”</p> - -<p>The battle-scene accompanying the sentence caught me so vividly, so -fiercely even, that I turned eagerly to him, all shyness gone, and let -my words pour out impetuously as they would, and as they willy-nilly -had to. For this scene, more than all the others, touched some intimate -desire, some sharp and keen ambition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> that burned in me to-day. My -whole heart was wrapped up in soldiering. I had chosen a soldier’s -career instinctively, even before I knew quite the meaning of it.</p> - -<p>“Yes, rather!” I cried with enthusiasm, staring so close into his face -that I could have counted the tiny hairs on the smooth pale skin, “and -that narrow ledge high up inside the dome where the prisoners stood -until they dropped on to the spear-heads in the ground beneath, and how -some jumped at once, and others stood all day, and—and how there was -only just room to balance by pressing the feet sideways against the -curving wall...?”</p> - -<p>It all rushed at me as though I had witnessed the awful scene a week -ago. Something inside me shook again with horror at the sight of the -writhing figures impaled upon the spears below. I almost felt a sharp -and actual pain pierce through my flesh. I overbalanced. It was my turn -to fall ...</p> - -<p>A sudden smile broke swiftly over LeVallon’s face, as he held my arm a -moment with a strength that almost hurt.</p> - -<p>“Ah, you remember <em>that!</em> And little wonder——” he began, then stopped -abruptly and released his grip. The cricket ball came bouncing to -our feet across the yard, with insistent cries of “Thank you, ball! -Thank you, LeVallon!” impossible to ignore. He did not finish the -sentence, and I know not what shrinking impulse of suffering and -pain in me it was that felt relieved he had not done so. Instead, he -stooped good-naturedly, picked up the ball, and flung it back to the -importunate cricketers; and as he did so I noticed that his action was -unlike that of any English boy I had ever seen. He did not throw it as -men usually throw a ball, but used a violent yet graceful motion that I -vaguely remembered to have seen somewhere before. It perplexed me for -a moment—then, suddenly, out of that deeper part of me so strangely -now astir, the hint of explanation came. It was the action of a man who -flings a spear or javelin.</p> - -<p>A bell rang over our heads with discordant clangour, and we were swept -across the yard with the rush of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> boys. The transition was abrupt and -even painful—as when one comes into the noisy street from a theatre -of music, lights and colour. A strong effort was necessary to recover -balance and pull myself together. Until we reached the red-brick porch, -however, LeVallon kept beside me, and his hurried last phrases, as we -parted, were the most significant of all. It seemed as if he kept them -for the end, although no such intention was probably in his thought. -They left me quivering through and through as I heard them fall from -his lips so quietly.</p> - -<p>His face was shining. The words came from his inmost heart:</p> - -<p>“Well, anyhow,” he said beneath his breath lest he might be overheard, -“I’ve found you, and we’ve found each other—at last. That’s the great -thing, isn’t it? No one here understands all that. Now, we can go on -together where we left off before; and, having found you, I expect I -shall soon find her as well. For we’re all three together, and—sooner -or later—there’s no escaping anything.”</p> - -<p>I remember that I staggered. The hand I put out to steady myself -scraped along the uneven bricks and broke the skin. A boy with red -hair struck me viciously in the back because I had stumbled into him; -he shouted at me angrily too, though I heard no word he said. And -LeVallon, for his part, just had time to bend his head down with “work -hard and get up into my form—we shall have more chances then,” and was -gone into the passage and out of sight—leaving me trembling inwardly -as though stricken by some sudden strange attack of nerves.</p> - -<p>For his words about the woman turned me inexplicably—into ice. My -legs gave way beneath me. A cold perspiration broke out upon my skin. -No words of any kind came to me; there was no definite thought; clear -recollection, absolutely none. The strange emotion itself I could -not put a name to, nor could I say what part was played in it by any -particular ingredient such as horror, terror, or mere ordinary alarm. -All these were in it somewhere, linked darkly to a sense of guilt at -length<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> discovered and brought home. I can only say truthfully that I -saw again the picture of that woman with her back towards me; but that, -when he spoke, she turned and looked at me. She showed her face. I -knew a sense of dreadful chill like some murderer who, after years of -careful hiding, meets unexpectedly The Law and sees the gallows darkly -rise. A hand of justice—of retribution—seemed stretched upon my -shoulder from the empty sky.</p> - -<p>I now set down my faithful recollection of what happened; and, -incredible as it doubtless sounds to-day, yet it was most distressingly -real. Out of what dim, forgotten past his words, this woman’s face, -arose to haunt “me” of To-day, I had no slightest inkling. What -crime of mine, what buried sin, came as with a blare of trumpets, -seeking requital, no slightest hint came whispering. Yet this was the -impression I instantly received. I was a boy. It terrified and amazed -me, but it held no element of make-believe. Julius LeVallon, myself, -and an unknown woman stood waiting on the threshold of the breathless -centuries to set some stone in its appointed place—a stone, moreover, -he, I, and she, together breaking mighty laws, had left upon the -ground. It seemed no common wrong to her, to him, to me, and yet we -three, working together, alone could find it and replace it.</p> - -<p>This, somehow, was the memory his words, that face, struggled to -reconstruct.</p> - -<p>I saw LeVallon smiling as he left my side. He disappeared in the -way already described. The stream of turbulent boys separated us -physically, just as, in his belief, the centuries had carried us apart -spiritually—he—myself—and this other. I saw a veil drop down upon -his face. The lamps in his splendid eyes were shrouded. At supper we -sat far apart, and the bedroom I shared with two other youngsters of my -own age and form, of course, did not include LeVallon.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> -<h3><a name="III" id="III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> -<p>“<em>Souls without a past behind them, springing suddenly into -existence, out of nothing, with marked mental and moral -peculiarities, are a conception as monstrous as would be the -corresponding conception of babies suddenly appearing from -nowhere, unrelated to anybody, but showing marked racial and -family types.</em>”—“The Ancient Wisdom” (A. Besant).</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">As</span> the terms passed and I ceased to be a new boy, it cannot be said -that I got to know Julius LeVallon any better, because our intimacy had -been established, or “resumed” as he called it, from the beginning; -but the chances of being together increased, we became members of the -same form, our desks were side by side, and we shared at length the -same bedroom with another Fifth Form boy named Goldingham. And since -Goldingham, studious, fat, good-natured, slept soundly from the moment -his head touched the pillow till the seven o’clock bell rang—and -sometimes after it in order to escape his cold bath—we practically had -the room to ourselves.</p> - -<p>Moreover, from the beginning, it all seemed curiously true. It was -not Julius who invented, but I who in my stupidity had forgotten. -Long, detailed dreams, too, came to me about this time, which I -recognised as a continuation of these of “Other Places” his presence -near me in the daytime would revive. They existed, apparently, in -some layer deeper than my daily consciousness, recoverable in sleep. -In the daytime something sceptical in me that denied, rendered them -inaccessible, but once reason slept and the will was in abeyance, they -poured through me in a continuous, uninterrupted flow. A word from -Julius, a touch, a glance from his eyes perhaps, would evoke them -instantly, and I would <em>see</em>. Yet he made no potent suggestions that -could have caused them; there was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> effort; I did not imagine at his -bidding; and often, indeed, his descriptions differed materially from -my own, which makes me hesitate to ascribe the results to telepathy -alone. It was his presence, his atmosphere that revived them. To-day, -of course, immediately after our schooldays in fact, they ceased to -exist for me—to my regret, I think, on the whole, for they were very -entertaining, and sometimes very exquisite. I still retain, however, -the vivid recollection of blazing summer landscapes; of people, -sometimes barbaric and always picturesque, moving in brilliant colours; -of plains, and slopes of wooded mountains that dipped, all blue and -thirsty, into quiet seas—scenes and people, too, utterly unlike any -I had known during my fifteen years of existence under heavy English -skies.</p> - -<p>LeVallon knew this inner world far better and more intimately than -I did. He lived in it. Motfield Close, the private school among -the Kentish hills, was merely for him a place where his present -brain and body—instruments of his soul—were acquiring the current -knowledge of To-day. It was but temporary. He himself, the eternal -self that persisted through all the series of lives, was in quest -of other things, “real knowledge,” as he called it. For this reason -the recollection of his past, these “Other Places,” was of paramount -importance, since it enabled him to see where he had missed the central -trail and turned aside to lesser pursuits that had caused delay. He was -forever seeking to recover vanished clues, to pick them up again, and -to continue the main journey with myself and, eventually, with—one -other.</p> - -<p>“I’ve always been after those things,” he used to say, “and I’m -searching, searching always—inside myself, for the old forgotten -way. We were together, you and I, so your coming back like this will -help——”</p> - -<p>I interrupted, caught by an inexplicable dread that he would mention -another person too. I said the first thing that came into my head. -Instinctively the words came, yet right words:</p> - -<p>“But my outside is different now. How could you know? My face and body, -I mean——?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span></p> - -<p>“Of course,” he smiled; “but I knew you instantly. I shall never forget -that day. I felt it at once—all over me. I had often dreamed about -you,” he added after a moment’s pause, “but that was no good, because -you didn’t dream with me.” He looked hard into my eyes. “We’ve a lot -to do together, you know,” he said gravely, “a lot of things to put -right—one thing, one big thing in particular—when the time comes. -Whatever happens, we mustn’t drift apart again. We shan’t.”</p> - -<p>Another minute and I knew he would speak of “her.” It was strange, this -sense of shrinking that particular picture brought. Never, except in -sleep occasionally, had it returned to me, and I think it was my dread -that kept it out of sight. Yet Julius just then did not touch the topic -that caused my heart to sink.</p> - -<p>“I must be off,” he exclaimed a moment later. “There’s ‘stinks’ to mug -up, and I haven’t looked at it. I shan’t know a blessed word!” For the -chemistry, known to the boys by this shorter yet appropriate name, was -a constant worry to him. He was learning it for the first time, he -found it difficult. But he was a boy, a schoolboy, and he talked like -one.</p> - -<p>He never doubted for one instant that I was not wholly with him. He -assumed that I knew and remembered, though less successfully, and that -we merely resumed an interrupted journey. Pre-existence was as natural -to him as that a certain man and woman had provided his returning -soul with the means of physical expression, termed body. His soul -remembered; he, therefore, could not doubt. It was innate conviction, -not acquired theory.</p> - -<p>“I can’t get down properly to the things I want,” he said another time, -“but they’re coming. It’s a rotten nuisance—learning dates and all -these modern languages keeps them out. The two don’t mix. But, now -you’re here, we can dig up a jolly sight more than I could alone. And -you’re getting it up by degrees all right enough.”</p> - -<p>For the principle of any particular knowledge, once acquired, was never -lost. It was learning a thing for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> first time that was the grind. -Instinctive aptitude was subconscious memory of something learned -before.</p> - -<p>“The pity is we’re made to learn a lot of stuff that belongs to one -particular section, and doesn’t run through them all. It clogs the -memory. The great dodge is to recognise the real knowledge and go for -it bang. Then you get a bit further every section.”</p> - -<p>Until my arrival, it seems, he kept these ideas strictly to himself, -knowing he would otherwise be punished for lying, or penalised in -some other educational manner for being too imaginative. Yet, while -he stood aloof somewhat from the common school life, he was popular -and of good repute. The boys admired, but stood in awe of him. He -pleased the masters almost as much as he puzzled them; for, unlike most -dreamy, fanciful youths, he possessed concentration and an imperious -will; he worked hard and always knew his lessons. Modern knowledge he -found difficult, and only mastered with great labour the details of -recent history, elementary science, chemistry, and so forth, whereas -in algebra, <a name="Euclid" id="Euclid"></a><ins title="Original has euclid">Euclid</ins>, mathematics, and the dead languages, -especially Greek, he invariably stood at the head of the form. He was -merely re-collecting them.</p> - -<p>During the whole two years of our schooldays at the Close, I never -heard him use such phrases as “former life” or “reincarnation.” Life, -for him, was eternal simply, and at Motfield he was in eternal life, -just as he always had been and always would be. Only he never said -this. He was a boy and talked like a boy. He just lived it. Death to -him was an insignificant detail. His whole mind ran to the idea that -life was continuous, each section casting aside the worn-out instrument -which had been exactly suited to the experience its wearer needed -for its development at that time and under those conditions. And, -certainly, he never understood that astounding tenet of most religions, -that life can be “eternal” by prolonging itself endlessly in the -future, without having equally extended endlessly also in the past!</p> - -<p>“But <em>I’m</em> going to be a general,” I said, “when I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> grow up,” afraid -that the “real knowledge” might interfere with my main ambition. “I -could never think of giving up <em>that</em>.”</p> - -<p>Julius looked up from tracing figures in the sand with the point of his -gymnasium shoe. There was a smile on his lips, a light in his eye that -I understood. I had said something that belonged to To-day, and not to -all To-days.</p> - -<p>“You were before,” he answered patiently, “a magnificent general, too.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t remember it,” I objected, being in one of my denying moods.</p> - -<p>“You want to be it again,” he smiled. “It’s born in you. That <em>is</em> -memory. But, anyhow,” he added, “you can do both—be a general with -your mind and the other thing with your soul. To shirk your job only -means to come back to it again later, don’t you see?”</p> - -<p>Quite naturally, and with profound conviction, he spoke of life’s -obligations. Physical infirmities resulted from gross errors in the -past; mental infirmities, from lost intellectual opportunities; -spiritual disabilities, from past moral shirkings and delinquencies: -all were methods, moreover, by which the soul divines her mistakes -and grows, through discipline, stronger, wiser. He would point to a -weakness in someone, and suggest what kind of error caused it in a -previous section, with the same certainty that a man might show a scar -and say “that came from fooling with a mowing machine when I was ten -years old.”</p> - -<p>The antipathies and sympathies of To-day, the sudden affinities like -falling in love at sight, and the sudden hostilities that apparently -had no cause—all were due to relationships in some buried Yesterday, -while those of To-morrow could be anticipated, and so regulated, by -the actions of To-day. Even to the smallest things. If, for instance, -Martin vented his spite and jealousy, working injustice upon another, -he but prepared the way for an exactly adequate reprisal later that -must balance the account to date. For into the most trivial affairs -of daily life dipped the spirit of this remarkable boy’s belief, -revealing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> as with a torch’s flare the workings of an implacable -justice that never could be mocked. No question of punishment meted -out by another entered into it, but only an impersonal law, which men -call—elsewhere—Cause and Effect.</p> - -<p>At the time, of course, I was somewhat carried away by the thoroughness -with which he believed and practised these ideas, though without -grasping the logic and consistency of his intellectual position. I -was aware, most certainly, in his presence of large and vitalising -sensations not easily accounted for, of being caught up into some -unfamiliar region over vast horizons, where big winds blew from dim and -ancient lands, where a sunlight burned that warmed the inmost heart -in me, and where I seemed to lose myself amid the immensities of an -endless, vistaed vision.</p> - -<p>This, of course, is the language of maturity. At the time I could not -express a tithe of what my feelings were, except that they were vast -and wonderful. To think myself back imaginatively, even now, into that -period of my youth with Julius LeVallon by my side, is to feel myself -eternally young, alive forever beyond all possibility of annihilation -or decay; it is, further, to realise an ample measure of lives at my -disposal in which to work towards perfection, the mere ageing and -casting off of any particular body after using it for sixty years or -so—nothing, and less than nothing.</p> - -<p>“Don’t funk!” I remember his saying once to a boy named Creswick who -had “avoided” the charging Hurrish at football. “You can’t lose your -life. You can only lose your body. And you’ll lose that anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“Crazy lout!” Creswick exclaimed, nursing his ankle, as he confided -to another boy of like opinions. “I’m not going to have my bones all -smashed to pulp for anybody. Body I’m using at the moment indeed! It’ll -be life I’m using at the moment next!”</p> - -<p>Which, I take it, was precisely what LeVallon meant.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> -<h3><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> -<p>“<em>In the case of personal relations, I do not see that heredity -would help us at all. Heredity, however, can produce a more -satisfactory explanation of innate aptitudes. On the other -hand, the doctrine of pre-existence does not compel us to -deny all influence on a man’s character of the character of -his ancestors. The character which a man has at any time is -modified by any circumstances which happen to him at that -time, and may well be modified by the fact that his re-birth -is in a body descended from ancestors of a particular -character.</em>”—Prof. J. M’Taggart.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">There</span> were numerous peculiarities about this individual with a foreign -name that I realise better on looking back than I did at the time.</p> - -<p>Of his parentage and childhood I knew nothing, for he mentioned -neither, and his holidays were spent at school; but he was always well -dressed and provided with plenty of pocket-money, which he generously -shared. Later I discovered that he was an orphan, but a certain cruel -knowledge of the world whispered that he was something else as well. -This mystery of his origin, however, rather added to the wonder of him -than otherwise. Compared to the stretch of time behind, it seemed a -trifling detail of recent history that had no damaging significance. -“Julius LeVallon is my label for this section,” he observed, “and John -Mason is yours.” And family ties for him seemed to have no necessary -existence, since neither parents nor relations were of a man’s own -choosing. It was the ties deliberately formed, and especially the ties -renewed, that held real significance.</p> - -<p>I thought of him as “foreign,” though, in a deeper sense than that he -was not quite English. He carried me away from England, but also away -from modern times; and something about him belonged to lands where -life was sunnier, more passionate, more romantic even,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> and where the -shadows of great Gods haunted blue, wooded mountains, vast plains and -deep, sequestered valleys. He claimed kinship somehow with an earlier -world, magical, unstained. Even his athletic gifts, admired of all, had -this subtle distinction too: the way he ran and jumped and “fielded” -was not English. At fives, squash-racquets, or with the cricket-bat he -fumbled badly, whereas in any game that demanded speed, adroitness, -swift intuitive decision, and physical dexterity of a certain -un-English kind—as against mere strength and pluck—he was supreme. He -was deer rather than bull-dog. The school-games of modern days he was -learning, apparently, for the first time.</p> - -<p>In a corner of the field, where a copse of larches fringed the horizon -against the sloping woods and hop-poles in the distance, we used to -lie and talk for hours during playtime. The high-road skirted this -field, and a hedge was provided with a gate which, under penalties, was -the orthodox means of entrance. Few boys attempted any other, though -Peabody was once caught by the Head as he floundered through a thorny -opening with the jumping pole. But Julius never used the gate—nor was -ever caught. He would dart from my side with a few quick steps, leap -into the air, and fly soaring over the hedge, his feet tucked neatly -under him like a bird’s.</p> - -<p>“Now,” he would say, as we flung ourselves down beneath the shade of -the larches, “we’ve got an hour or more. Let’s talk, and remember, and -get well down into it all.”</p> - -<p>How it was accomplished I cannot hope to describe. The world about -me faded, another took its place. It rose in sheets and layers, -shimmering, alive, and amazingly familiar. Space and time seemed to -overlap, objects and scenery interpenetrated. There was fragrance, -light and colour; adventure and alarm; delight and ceaseless -expectation. It was a kind of fairyland where flowers never died, where -motion was swift as thought, and life seemed meted out on a more lavish -scale than by the meagre measurements of ticking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> clocks. And, while -the memories were often hard to disentangle, the marked idiosyncrasies -of our separate natures were never in the least confusion: <em>my</em> passion -for adventure, <em>his</em> to find the reality that lay behind all manifested -life. For this was the lode-star that guided him over the hills and -deserts of all his many “sections”—the unquenchable fever to learn -essential truth, to pierce behind the veil of appearances and discover -the secret nature of the soul, its origin, its destiny, the methods of -its full realisation.</p> - -<p>It was a pastoral people that interested me most, primitive folk with -migratory habits not yet abandoned. Their herds roamed an enormous -territory. There was a Red Tribe and a Blue Tribe. The fighting men -used bows, spears and javelins, and carried shields with round, smooth -metal bosses to deflect the rain of arrows. And there was cavalry—two -thousand men on horseback called a “coorlie.” Julius and I both knew -it all as if we had lived with them, not merely read an invented tale; -and it was pictures of this land and people that had first flared up in -me that afternoon in the playground when he asked if I “remembered.” -Memories of my childhood a few years before had not half the vividness -and actuality of these. Nothing could have been more stupid than such -undistinguished legends, but for this convincing reality that was their -outstanding characteristic.... It all came back to me: the days and -nights of hunting, nomad existence, the wild freedom of open plains and -trackless forests, of migrations in the spring, wood fires, lawless -raids, and also of some kind of mighty worship that stirred me deeply -with an old, grand sense of Nature Deities adequately approached.</p> - -<p>This latter fact, indeed, rose most possessingly upon me. There came -a vague uneasiness and discomfort with it. I was aware of brooding -Presences....</p> - -<p>“And they are still about us if we care to look for them,” interrupted -a low voice in my ear, “ready to give us of their strength and -happiness, waiting to answer if we call....”</p> - -<p>I looked up, disagreeably startled. A breath of wind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> stirred in the -branches overhead. The tufts of ragwort bent their yellow heads. In -the sky there was a curious glow and warmth. A sense of hush pervaded -all the air, as though someone had crept close to where we lay and -overheard our thoughts with sympathy.</p> - -<p>And in that very moment, just as I looked up at Julius, the picture of -the woman, her face averted and her hands upraised, stole like a ghost -before my inner vision. She vanished into mist again; the layer that -had so suddenly disclosed itself, sank down; the other shifted up into -its former place; and my companion, I saw, with sharp amazement was -stretched upon his back, his head turned from me, resting on his folded -hands—as though he had not spoken any word at all. For his eyes, as -I then leaned over to discover, were gazing into space, and his mind -seemed intent upon pictures that he visualised for himself.</p> - -<p>“Julius,” I said quickly, “you spoke to me just now?”</p> - -<p>He turned slowly, as with an effort to tear himself away from what he -saw within him; he answered quietly:</p> - -<p>“I may have spoken. I can’t be sure. Why do you ask? I’ve been so far -away.” His face was rapt as with some inner light. It had a radiant -look. There was no desire in me to insist.</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing,” I answered quickly, and lay down again to follow what -memories might come. The slight shiver that undeniably had touched me -went its way. There was relief, intense relief—that he had not taken -the clue I recklessly had offered. And, almost at once, the world about -me faded out once more, the larches dipped away, the field sank out of -sight. I plunged down into the sea of older memories....</p> - -<p>I saw the sunlight flashing on shield and spear; I saw the hordes -all gathered in the plains below, a mass of waving plumes, with red -on the head-dress of the chieftains; I saw the river blackened by -the thousands crossing it, covering the opposite bank like swarms of -climbing ants.... I saw the chieftains lay aside their arms as they -entered the sacred precincts of the grove;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> I smelt the odour of the -sacrificial fires, heard the long-drawn droning of petitions, the cries -of the victims.... And then the sentry-fires behind the sleeping camps -... the stirring of the soldiers at dawn ... the perfume of leagues of -open plain ... muffled tramping far away ... wind ... fading stars ... -wild-flowers dripping with the dew....</p> - -<p>There was fighting, too, galore; tremendous marches; signalling by -night from the mountain-tops with torches alternately hidden and -revealed; and of sacred rites, primitive and fraught with danger to -human life, no end....</p> - -<p>In the middle of which up stole again that other layer, breathing -terror and shrinking dread, and with a vividness of actuality that put -all the rest into the shade. It could not, <em>would</em> not be dismissed. -Its irruption was of but an instant’s duration, but in that instant -there flashed upon me a clear intuition of certainty. I knew that -Julius refrained purposely from speaking of this figure, because -he understood my dread might drive me from his side before what we -three must accomplish together was ripe for action, and because he -waited—till she should appear in person. And, before it vanished -again, I knew another thing: that what we three must accomplish -together had to do directly with the worship of these mighty, old-world -Nature Deities.</p> - -<p>The stirring of these deep, curious emotions in me banished effectually -all further scenery. I sat up and began to talk. I laughed a little and -raised my voice. The sky, meanwhile, had clouded over, there was no -heat in the occasional gleams of sunshine.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been hunting and fighting and the Lord knows what else besides,” -I exclaimed, touching Julius on the shoulder where he lay. “But somehow -I didn’t feel that you were with me—always.”</p> - -<p>“It’s too awfully far back, for one thing,” he replied dreamily, as -if still half withdrawn, “and, for another, we both left that section -young. The three of us were not together then. That was a bit later. -All the same,” he added, “it was there you sowed the first seeds of -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> soldiering instinct which is so strong in you to-day. I was killed -in battle. We were on opposite sides. You fell——”</p> - -<p>“On the steps——” I cried, seizing a flashing memory.</p> - -<p>“Of the House of Messengers,” he caught me up. “You carried the Blue -Stick of warning. You got down the street in safety when the flying -javelin caught you as you reached the very steps——”</p> - -<p>There was a sound behind us in the field quite close.</p> - -<p>“What in the world do you two boys find to talk about so much?” asked -the voice of Hurrish suddenly. “I’m afraid it’s not all elegiacs.” And -he laughed good-humouredly.</p> - -<p>We turned with a start. Julius looked up, then rose and touched his -cap. I followed his example the same moment.</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” he said, before I could think of anything to answer. “It’s -the Memory Game.”</p> - -<p>Hurrish looked at him with a quiet smile upon his face. His expression -betrayed interest. But he said nothing, merely questioning with his -eyes.</p> - -<p>“The most wonderful game you ever played, sir,” continued Julius.</p> - -<p>“Indeed! The most wonderful game you ever played?” Hurrish repeated, -yet by no means unkindly.</p> - -<p>“Getting down among the memories of—of before, sir. Recovering what we -did, and what we were—and so understanding what we are to-day.”</p> - -<p>The master stared without a sign of emotion upon his face. Apparently, -in some delightful way, he understood. He was very sympathetic, I -remember, to both of us. We thought the world of him, respecting -him almost to the point of personal affection; and this in spite of -punishments his firm sense of justice often obliged him to impose. I -think, at that moment, he divined what Julius meant and even felt more -sympathy than he cared to show.</p> - -<p>“The Memory Game,” he repeated, looking quizzically down at us over the -top of his glasses. “Well, well.” He hummed and hesitated a moment, -choosing his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> words, it seemed, with care. “There’s a good deal of that -in the air just now, I know—as you’ll discover for yourselves when -you leave here and get into the world outside. But, remember,” he went -on with a note of earnestness and warning in his voice, “most of it is -little better than a feeble, yet rather dangerous, form of hysteria, -with vanity as a basis.”</p> - -<p>I hardly understood what he meant myself, but I saw the quick flush -that coloured the pale cheeks of my companion.</p> - -<p>“There are numbers of people about to-day,” continued Hurrish, as we -walked home slowly across the field, “who pretend to remember all kinds -of wonderful things about themselves and about their past, not one of -which can be justified. But it only means, as a rule, that they wish -to appear peculiar by taking up the fad of the moment. They like to -glorify themselves, though few of them understand even the A B C of the -serious belief that <em>may</em> lie behind it all.”</p> - -<p>Julius squeezed my arm; the flush had left his skin; he was listening -eagerly.</p> - -<p>“You may later come across a good many thinking people, too,” said -the master, “who play your Memory Game, or think they do, and some -among them who claim to have carried it to an extraordinary degree of -perfection. There are ways and means, it is said. I do not deny that -their systems may be worthy of investigation; I merely say it is a good -plan to approach the whole thing with caution and common sense.”</p> - -<p>He glanced down first at one, then the other of us, with a grave and -kindly expression in the eyes his glasses magnified so oddly.</p> - -<p>“And most who play it,” he added dryly, “remember so much of their -wonderful past that they forget to do their ordinary duties in their -very commonplace present.” He chuckled a little, while Julius again -gripped my flesh so hard that I only just prevented crying out.</p> - -<p>“I’ll remember him in a minute—if only I can get down far enough,” he -managed to whisper in my ear. “We were together——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span></p> - -<p>We had reached the gate, and were walking down the road towards the -house. It was very evident that Hurrish understood more than he cared -to admit about our wonderful game, and was trying to guide us rather -than to deride instinctive beliefs.</p> - -<p>That night in our bedroom, when Goldingham was asleep and snoring, -I felt a touch upon my pillow, and looking up from the edge of -unconsciousness, saw the white outline of Julius beside the bed.</p> - -<p>“Come over here,” he whispered, pointing to a shaded candle on the -chest of drawers, “I’ve got something to show you. Something Hurrish -gave me—something out of a book.”</p> - -<p>We peered together over a page of writing spread before us. Julius -was excited and very eager. I do not think he understood it much -better than I myself did, but it was the first time he had come across -anything approaching his beliefs in writing. The discovery thrilled -him. The authority of print was startling.</p> - -<p>“He said it was somebody or other of importance, an Authority,” -Julius whispered as I leaned over to read the fine handwriting. “It’s -Hurrish’s,” I announced. “Rather,” Julius answered. “But he copied it -from a book. <em>He</em> knows right enough.”</p> - -<p>Oddly enough, the paper came eventually into my hands, though how I -know not; I found it many years later in an old desk I used in those -days. I have it now somewhere. The name of the author, however, I quite -forget.</p> - -<p>“The moral and educational importance of the belief in metempsychosis,” -it ran, as our fingers traced the words together in the uncertain -candle-light, “lies in the fact that it is a manifestation of the -instinct that we are not ‘complete,’ and that one life is not enough to -enable us to reach that perfection whither we are urged by the inmost -depths of our being, and also an evidence of the belief that all human -action will be inevitably rewarded or punished——”</p> - -<p>“Rewards or punishes <em>itself</em>,” interrupted Julius; “it’s not -punishment at all really.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span></p> - -<p>“And this is an importance that must not be underestimated,” the -interrupted sentence concluded. “In so far,” we read on together, -somewhat awed, I think, to tell the truth, “as the theory is based upon -the supposition that a personal divine power exists and dispenses this -retributive justice——”</p> - -<p>“Wrong again,” broke in Julius, “because it’s just the law of natural -results—there’s nothing personal about it.”</p> - -<p>“—and that the soul must climb a long steep path to approach this -power, does metempsychosis preserve its religious character.”</p> - -<p>“He means going back into animals as well—which <em>never</em> happens,” -commented the excited boy beside me once again. We read to the end then -without further interruption.</p> - -<p>“This, however, is not all. The Theory is also the expression of -another idea which gives it a philosophical character. It is the -earliest intellectual attempt of man, when considering the world -and his position in it, to conceive that world, not as alien to -him, but as akin to him, and to incorporate himself and his life -as an indispensable and eternal element in the past and future of -the world with which it forms one comprehensive totality. I say -an eternal element, because, regarded philosophically, the belief -in metempsychosis seems a kind of unconscious anticipation of the -principle now known as ‘Conservation of Energy.’ Nothing that has ever -existed can be lost, either in life or by death. All is but change; and -hence souls do not perish, but return again and again in ever-changing -forms. Moreover, later developments of metempsychosis, especially as -conceived by Lessing, can without difficulty be harmonised with the -modern idea of evolution from lower to higher forms.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all,” Julius whispered, looking round at me.</p> - -<p>“By George!” I replied, returning his significant stare.</p> - -<p>“I promised Hurrish, you know,” he added, blowing out the candle. -“Promised I’d read it to you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span></p> - -<p>“All right,” I answered in the dark.</p> - -<p>And, without further comment or remark, we went back to our respective -beds, and quickly so to sleep.</p> - -<p>Before taking the final plunge, however, into oblivion, I heard the -whisper of Julius, sharply audible in the silence, coming at me across -the darkened room:</p> - -<p>“It’s all rot,” he said. “The chap who wrote that was simply thinking -with his brain. But it’s not the brain that remembers; it’s the other -part of you.” There was a pause. And then he added, as though after -further reflection: “Don’t bother about it. There’s lots of stuff like -that about—all tommy-rot and talk, that’s all. Good night! We’ll dream -together now and p’raps remember.”</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> -<h3><a name="V" id="V"></a>CHAPTER V</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> -<p>“<em>We have no right whatever to speak of really unconscious -Nature, but only of uncommunicative Nature, or of Nature whose -mental processes go on at such different time-rates to ours -that we cannot easily adjust ourselves to an appreciation of -their inward fluency, although our consciousness does make us -aware of their presence.... Nature is a vast realm of finite -consciousness of which your own is at once a part and an -example.</em>”—Royce.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">There</span> was a great deal more in LeVallon, however, than the Memory Game: -he brought a strange cargo with him from these distant shores, where, -apparently, I—to say nothing of another—had helped to load it. Bit by -bit, as my own machinery of recovery ran more easily, I tapped other -layers also in myself. Our freight was slowly discharged. We examined -and discussed each bale, as it were, but I soon became aware that -there was a great deal he kept back from me. This secrecy first piqued -and then distressed me. It brought mystery between us; there stood a -shadowy question-mark in our relationship.</p> - -<p>I divined the cause, and dreaded it—that is, I dreaded the revelation -he would sooner or later make. For I guessed—I <em>knew</em>—what it -involved and whom. I asked no questions. But I noticed that at a -certain point our conversations suddenly stopped, he changed the -subject, or withdrew abruptly into silence. And something sinister -gripped my heart. Behind it, closely connected in some undiscovered -manner, lay two things I have already mentioned: the woman, and the -worship.</p> - -<p>This reconstruction of our past together, meanwhile, was—for a pair -of schoolboys—a thrilling pursuit that never failed to absorb. Stone -by stone we built it up. After often missing one another, sometimes by -a century, sometimes by a mere decade or so, our return at last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> had -chimed, and we found ourselves on earth again. We had inevitably come -together. There was no such thing as missing eventually, it seemed. -Debts must be discharged between those who had incurred them. And, -chief among these mutual obligations, I gathered, were certain dealings -we had together in connection with some form of Nature worship, during -a section he referred to as our “Temple Days.”</p> - -<p>The character of these dealings was one of those secret things that he -would not disclose; he knew, but would not speak of it; and alone I -could not “dig it up.” Moreover, the effect upon me here was decidedly -a mixed one, for while there was great beauty in these Temple Days, -there lurked behind this portion of them—terror. We had not been alone -in this. Involved somehow or other with us was “the woman.”</p> - -<p>Julius would talk freely of certain aspects of this period, of various -practices, physical, mental, spiritual, and of gorgeous ceremonies -that were stimulating as well as true, pertaining undoubtedly to -some effective worship of the sun, that resulted in the obtaining of -enormous energy by the worshippers; but after a certain point he would -say no more, and would deliberately try to shift back to some other -“layer” altogether. And it was sheer cowardice in me that prevented my -forcing a declaration. I burned to know, yet was afraid.</p> - -<p>“I do wish I could remember better,” I said once.</p> - -<p>“It comes gradually of itself,” he answered, “and best of all when -you’re not thinking at all. The top part gets thin, and suddenly you -see down into clear deep water. The top part, of course, is recent; it -smothers the older things.”</p> - -<p>“Like thick sand, mine is,” I said, “heaps and heaps of it.”</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders and laughed.</p> - -<p>“The pictures of To-day hide those of Yesterday,” he explained. “You -can’t remember two things at once. If your head is stuffed with what’s -happening at the moment, you can’t expect to remember what happened a -month ago. Dig back. It’s trying that starts it moving.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span></p> - -<p>Ancient as the stars themselves appeared the origins of our friendship -and affection of to-day.</p> - -<p>“Then I didn’t get as far as you—in those Temple Days?” I asked.</p> - -<p>He glanced sharply at me beneath his long dark eyelids. He hesitated a -moment.</p> - -<p>“You began,” he answered presently in a low voice, “but got -caught later by—something in the world—fighting, or money, or a -woman—something sticky like that. And you left me for a time.”</p> - -<p>Any temptation that enticed the soul from “real knowledge” he described -as “sticky.”</p> - -<p>“For several sections you fooled with things that counted for the -moment, but were not carried over through the lot. You came back to -the real ones—but too late.” His voice sank down into a whisper; his -face was grave and troubled. Shrinking stole over me. There was the -excitement that he was going to tell me something, yet the dread, too, -that I should hear it. “But now,” he went on, half to himself and half -to me, “we can put that right. Our chance—at last—is coming.” These -last words he uttered beneath his breath.</p> - -<p>And then he abruptly shifted the subject, leaving me with a strangely -disquieting emotion that I should be drawn against my will into -something that I dreaded yet could not possibly avoid. The expression -of his face chilled my heart. He pulled me down upon the grass beside -him. “You’ve got to burrow down inside yourself,” he went on earnestly, -raising his voice again to its normal pitch, “that’s where it all lies -buried. Once you get it up by yourself, you’ll understand. Then you can -help me.”</p> - -<p>His own excitement ran across the air to me. I felt grandeur in his -wonderful conception—this immense river of our lives, the justice of -inevitable cause and effect, the ultimate importance of every action, -word and thought, and, what appealed to me most of all, the idea -that results depended upon one’s own character and will without the -hiring of exalted substitutes to make it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> easy. Even as a boy this all -appealed strongly to me, probably to the soldier fighting-instinct that -was my chief characteristic....</p> - -<p>Of these Temple Days with their faint, flying pictures I retain -fascinating recollections. In them was nothing to suggest any country -I could name, certainly neither Egypt, Greece nor India. Julius spoke -of some great civilisation in which primitive worship of some true kind -combined with accomplishments we might regard to-day as the result of -trained and accurate science. It involved union somehow with great -“natural” forces. There was awe in it, but an atmosphere, too, of -wonder, power and aspiration of a genuinely lofty type.</p> - -<p>It left upon me the dim impression that it was not on the earth at -all. But, for me it was too thickly veiled for detailed recovery, -though an invincible instinct whispered that it was here “the woman” -first intruded upon our joint relationship. I saw, with considerable -sharpness, however, delightful pictures of what was evidently -sun-worship, though of an intelligent rather than a superstitious -kind. We seemed nearer to the sun than we are to-day, differently -constituted, aware of greater powers; there was vast heat, there were -gigantic, mighty winds. In this heat, through these colossal winds, -came deity. The elemental powers were its manifestation. The sun, the -planets, the entire universe, in fact, seemed then alive; we knew it -was alive; we were kin with every point in it; and worship of a sun, -a planet, or a tree, as the case might be, somehow drew their beings -into definite relationship with our own, even to the point of leaving -the characteristics of their particular Powers in our systems. A human -being was but <em>one</em> living detail of a universe in which all other -details were equally living and equally—possibly more—important. -Nature was a power to be experienced, shared, and natural objects had -a meaning in their own right. We read the phenomena of Nature as signs -and symbols, clear as the black signs of writing on a printed page.</p> - -<p>Out of many talks together, Julius and I recovered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> all this. Alone -I could not understand it. Julius, moreover, believed it still -to-day. Though nominally, and in his life as well, a Christian, he -always struck me as being intensely religious, yet without a definite -religion. It was afterwards, of course, I realised this, when my -experience of modern life was larger. He was unfettered by any little -dogmas of man-made creeds, but obeyed literally the teaching of the -Sermon on the Mount, which he knew by heart. It was essential spiritual -truth he sought. His tolerance and respect for all the religions of -to-day were based upon the belief that each contained a portion of -truth at least. His was the attitude of a perfect charity—of an -“old soul,” as he phrased it later, who “had passed through all the -traditions.” His belief included certainly God and the gods, Nature and -Christ, temples of stone and hills and woods and that temple of the -heart which is the Universe itself. True worship, however, was <em>with</em> -Nature.</p> - -<p>A vivid picture belongs to this particular “layer.” I saw the light -of a distant planet being used, apparently in some curative sense, by -human beings. It took place in a large building. Long slits in the roof -were so arranged that the planet shone through them exactly upon the -meridian. Dropping through the dusky atmosphere, the rays were caught -by an immense concave mirror of polished metal that hung suspended -above an altar where the smoke of incense rose; and, since a concave -mirror forms at its focus in the air before it an image of whatever is -reflected in its depths, a radiant image of the planet stood shining -there in the heart of the building. It was a picture of arresting -beauty and significance. Gleaming overhead, hung a mirror of still -mightier proportions that caught the reflected rays and poured them -down in a stream of intensified light upon the backs of men and women -who lay naked on the ground, waiting to receive them.</p> - -<p>“The quality of that particular planet is what they need,” whispered -Julius, as we watched together; “the light-cures of that age have -hardly changed,” he laughed; “the principle, at least, remains the -same.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span></p> - -<p>There was another scene as well in which I saw motionless, stretched -figures. I could never see it clearly, though. Darkness invariably -rolled down and hid it; and I had the idea that LeVallon tried to -prevent its complete recovery—just then. Nor was I sorry at this, for -beyond it lay something that seemed the source of the shrinking dread -that haunted me. If I saw all, I should see also—<em>her</em>. I should know -the secret thing Julius kept back from me, the thing we three had -somehow to “set right again.” And once, when this particular scene was -in my mind and Julius, I felt sure, was seeing it too, as he lay beside -me on the grass, there passed into me a sudden sensation of a kind I -find it difficult to describe. There was yearning in it, but there was -anguish too, and a pain as of deep, unfathomable regret wholly beyond -me to account for. It swept into me, I think, from him.</p> - -<p>I turned suddenly. He lay, I saw, with his face hidden in his hands; -his shoulders shook as though he sobbed; and it seemed that some -memory of great poignancy convulsed him. For several minutes he lay -speechless in this way, yet an air of privacy about him, that forbade -intrusion. Once or twice I surprised him under these curious attacks; -they were invariably connected with this particular “inner scenery”; -and sometimes were followed by bouts of that nameless and mysterious -illness that kept him in the sick-room for several days. But I asked no -questions, and he vouchsafed no explanation.</p> - -<p>On this particular point, at least, I asked no questions; but on the -general subject of my uneasiness I sometimes probed him.</p> - -<p>“This sense of funk when I remember these old forgotten things,” I -asked, “what is it? Why does it frighten me?”</p> - -<p>Gazing at me out of those strange eyes that saw into so huge a -universe, he answered softly:</p> - -<p>“It’s a faint memory too—of the first pains and trials you suffered -when you began to learn. You feel the old wrench and strain.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span></p> - -<p>“It hurt so——?”</p> - -<p>He nodded, with that smile of yearning that sometimes shone so -beautifully on his face.</p> - -<p>“At first,” he replied. “It seemed like losing your life—until you got -far enough to know the great happiness of the bigger way of living. -Coming back to me like this revives it. We began to learn together, you -see.”</p> - -<p>I mentioned the extraordinary feelings of the playground when first I -spoke with him, and of the class-room when first we saw each other.</p> - -<p>“Ah,” he sighed, “there’s no mistaking it—the coming together of old -friends or enemies. The instant the eyes meet, the flash of memory -follows. Only, the tie must have been real, of course, to make it -binding.”</p> - -<p>“How can it ever end?” I asked. “Each time starts it all going again.”</p> - -<p>“By starting the opposite. Love dissolves the link. Understand why you -hate—and at once it lessens. Sympathy follows, feeling-with—that’s -love; and love sets you both free. It’s not thinking, but feeling that -makes the strongest chains.”</p> - -<p>And it was speaking of “feeling” that led to his saying things I -have never forgotten. For thinking, in those older days, seemed of -small account. It was an age of feeling, chiefly. Feeling was the -way to knowledge: here was the main difference between To-day and -those far-off Yesterdays. The way to know an object was to feel -it—feel-with it. The simplicity of the method was as significant as -its—impossibility! Yet a fundamental truth was in it.</p> - -<p>To know a thing was not to enumerate merely its qualities. To state the -weight, colour, texture of a stone, for instance, was merely to mention -its external characteristics; whereas to think of it till it became -part of the mind, seen from its own point of view, was to know it as -it actually is. The mind felt-with it. It became a part of yourself. -Knowledge, as Julius understood the word, was identifying himself with -the object: it became part of the substance of the mind: it was known -from within.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span></p> - -<p>Communion with inanimate objects, with Nature itself, was in this way -actually possible.</p> - -<p>“Dwell upon anything you like,” he said, “to the point where you feel -it, and you get it all exactly as it <em>is</em>, not merely as <em>you</em> see it. -Its quality, its power, becomes a part of yourself. Take trees, rivers, -mountains, take wind and fire in this way—and you feel their power in -you. You can use them. That was the way of worship—then.”</p> - -<p>“The sun itself, the planets, anything?” I asked eagerly, recognising -something that seemed once familiar to me.</p> - -<p>“Anything,” he replied quietly. “Copy their own movements too, and -you’ll get nearer still. Imitate the attitude and gestures of a -stranger and you begin to understand what he’s up to, his point of -view—what he’s feeling. You begin to know him. All ceremonies began -that way. On that big plain where the worship of the sun was held, the -smaller temples represented the planets, the distances all calculated -in proper ratio from the heavens. We copied their movements exactly, -as we moved, thousands and thousands of us, in circular form about the -centre. We felt-with them, got all joined up to the whole system; by -imitating their gestures, we understood them and absorbed a portion of -their qualities and powers. Our energy became as theirs. Acting the -ceremony brought the knowledge, don’t you see? Oh, it’s scientific, -right enough,” he added. “It’s not going backwards—instinctive -knowledge. It’s a pity it’s forgotten now.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know all this?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“I’ve done it so often. You’ve done it with me. Alone, of course, it’s -difficult to get results; but when a lot together do it—a crowd—a -nation—the whole world—you could shift Olympus into the Ægean, or -bring Mars near enough to throw a bridge across!”</p> - -<p>We burst out laughing together, though his face instantly again grew -grave and earnest.</p> - -<p>“It will come,” he said, “it will come again in time. When the idea of -brotherhood has spread, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> separate creeds have merged, and the -whole world feels the same thing together—it will come. It’s another -order of consciousness, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>His passionate conviction certainly stirred joy and wonder in me -somewhere. It was stupendous, yet so simple. The universe was knowable; -its powers assimilable by human beings. Here was true Nature Magic, the -elements co-operating, the stars alive, the sun a deity to be known and -felt.</p> - -<p>“And that’s why concentration gives such power,” he added. “By feeling -anything till you <em>feel-with</em> it and become it, you know every blessed -thing about it from inside. You have instinctive knowledge of it. -Mistakes become impossible. You live and act with the whole universe.”</p> - -<p>And, as I listened, it seemed a kind of childish presumption that had -shut us off from the sun, the stars, the numerous other systems of -space, and that reduced knowledge to the meagre statement of a people -dwelling upon one unimportant globe of comparatively recent matter in -one of the smaller solar systems.</p> - -<p>Our earth, indeed, was not the centre of the universe; it was but -a temporary point in the long, long journey of the River of Lives. -The soul would eventually traverse a million other points. It was so -integral a part of everything, so intimately akin to every corner and -aspect of the cosmos, that a “human” being’s relative position to -the very stars, the angle at which he met their light and responded -to the tension of their forces, must necessarily affect his inmost -personality. If the moon could raise the tides, she could assuredly -cause an ebb and flow in the fluids of the human body, and how could -men and women expect to resist the stress and suction of those -tremendous streams of power that played upon the earth from the network -of great distant suns? Times and seasons, now known as feast-days -and the like, were likewise of significance. There were moments, for -instance, in the “ceremony” of the heavens when it was possible to see -more easily in one direction than in another, when certain powers, -therefore, were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> open and accessible. The bridges then were clear, the -channels open. A revelation of intenser life—from the universe, from a -star, from mountains, rivers, winds or forests—could then steal down -and leave their traces in the heart and passion of a human being. For, -just as there is a physical attitude of prayer by which the human body -invites communion, so times and seasons were attitudes and gestures -of that greater body of Nature when results could be most favourably -expected.</p> - -<p>It was all very bewildering, very big, very curious; but if I protested -that it merely meant a return to the unreasoning superstitious days of -Nature Magic, there was something in me at the same time that realised -vital, forgotten truth behind it all. Cleansed and scientific, Julius -urged, it must return into the world again. What men formerly knew by -feeling, an age now coming would justify and demonstrate by brain and -reason. Touch with the universe would be restored. We should go back to -Nature for peace and power and progress. Scientific worship would be -known.</p> - -<p>Yet by worship he meant not merely kneeling before an Ideal and praying -eagerly to resemble it; but approaching a Power and acquiring it. What -heat in itself may be we do not know; only that without it we collapse -into inert particles. What lies behind, beyond the physicist’s account -of air as a gas, remains unknown; deprived of it, however, we cease to -breathe and be conscious in matter. Each moment we feel the sun, take -in the air, we live; and the more we accomplish this union, the more we -are alive. In addition to these physical achievements, however, their -essential activities could be known and acquired spiritually. And the -means was that worship which is union—feeling-with.</p> - -<p>To Julius this achievement was a literal one. The elements were an -expression of spiritual powers. To be in touch with them was to be -in touch with a Whole in which the Earth or Sirius are, after all, -but atoms. Moreover, it was a conscious Whole. In atoms themselves he -found life too. Chemical affinity involved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> intelligence. Certain atoms -refuse to combine with certain other atoms, they are hostile to each -other; while others rush headlong into each other’s arms. How do the -atoms know?</p> - -<p>Here lay hints of powers he sought to reclaim for human use and human -help and human development.</p> - -<p>“For they were known once,” he would cry. “We knew them, you and I. -Their nature is not realised to-day; consciousness has lost touch -with them. We recall a broken fragment, but label it superstition, -ignorance, and the like. And, being incomplete, these remnants of -necessity seem childish. Their meaning cannot come through the brain, -and that other mode of consciousness which understood has left us now. -The world, pursuing a lesser ideal, denies its forgotten greatness with -a sneer!”</p> - -<p>A great deal of this he said to me one day while we were walking home -from church, whose “service” had stirred him into vehement and eager -utterance. His language was very boyish, and yet it seemed to me that I -listened to someone quite as old as Dr. Randall, the Headmaster who had -preached. I can see the hedges, wet and shining after rain; the dull -November sky; ploughed fields and muddy lanes. I can hear again the -plover calling above the hill. Nothing could possibly have been more -uninspiring than the dreary hop-poles, the moist, depressing air, the -leafless elms, and the “Sunday feeling” amid which the entire scene was -laid.</p> - -<p>The boys straggled along the road in twos and threes, hands in pockets, -points of Eton jackets sticking out behind. Hurrish, the nice master, -was just in front of us, walking with Goldingham. I saw the latter turn -his face up sideways as he asked some question, and I suddenly wondered -whether he knew how odd he looked, or, indeed, what he looked like at -all. I wondered what sort of “sections” and adventures Goldingham, -Hurrish, and all these Eton-jacketed boys had been through before they -arrived at <em>this;</em> and next it flashed across me what a grotesque -result it was for LeVallon to have reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> after so many picturesque -and stimulating lives—an Eton jacket, a mortar-board, and tight -Wesleyan striped trousers.</p> - -<p>And now, as I recall these curious recollections of years ago, it -occurs to me as remarkable that, although a sense of humour was not -lacking in either of us, yet neither then nor now could the spirit of -the comic, and certainly never of the ludicrous, rob by one little -jot the reality, the deep, convincing actuality of these strange -convictions that LeVallon and I shared together when at Motfield Close -we studied Greek and Latin, while remembering a world before Greeks or -Latins ever existed at all.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> -<h3><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> -<p>“<em>There seems nothing in pre-existence incompatible with any -of the dogmas which are generally accepted as fundamental to -Christianity.</em>”—Prof. M’Taggart.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">By</span> my last half-year at Motfield Close, when I was Head of the school, -LeVallon had already left, but the summer term preceding his departure -is the one most full of delightful recollections for me. He was Head -then—which proves that he was sufficiently normal and practical to -hold that typically English position, and to win respect in it—and I -was “Follow-on Head,” as we called it.</p> - -<p>I suppose he was verging on eighteen at the time, for neither -of us was destined for a Public School later, and we stayed on -longer than the general run of boys. We still shared the room with -Goldingham—“Goldie,” who went on to Wellington and Sandhurst, and -afterwards lost his life in the Zulu War—and we enjoyed an unusual -amount of liberty. The “triumvirate” the masters called us, and I -remember that we were proud of topping Hurrish by half an inch, each -being over six feet in his socks.</p> - -<p>With peculiar pleasure, too, I recall the little class we formed by -ourselves in Greek, and the hours spent under Hurrish’s sympathetic and -enthusiastic guidance, reading Plato for the first time. Hurrish was -an admirable scholar, and myself and Goldie, though unable to match -LeVallon’s singular and intuitive mastery of the language, made up -for our deficiency by working like slaves. The group was a group of -enthusiasts, not of mere plodding schoolboys. But Julius it undoubtedly -was who fed the little class with a special subtle fire of his own, -and with a spirit of searching interpretative<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> insight that made the -delighted Hurrish forget that he was master and Julius pupil. And in -the “Sympathetic Studies” the former published later upon Plotinus and -some of the earlier Gnostic writings, I certainly traced more than -one illuminating passage to its original inspiration in some remark -let fall by LeVallon in those intimate talks round Hurrish’s desk at -Motfield Close.</p> - -<p>But what comes back to me now with a kind of veritable haunting wonder -that almost makes me sorry such speculations are no longer possible, -were the talks and memories we enjoyed together in our bedroom. For -there was a stimulating excitement about these whispered conversations -we held by the open window on summer nights—an atmosphere of stars -and scented airs and hushed silent spaces beyond the garden—that -comes back to me now with an added touch of mystery and beauty both -compelling and suggestive. When I think of those bedroom hours I step -suddenly out of the London murk and dinginess, out of the tedium -of my lecturing and teaching, into a vast picture gallery of vivid -loveliness. The scenery of mighty dreams usurps the commonplace -realities of the present.</p> - -<p>Ten o’clock was the hour for lights out, and by ten-fifteen Goldie, -with commendable regularity, was asleep and snoring. We thanked him -much for that, as somebody says in “Alice,” and Julius, as soon as the -signal of Goldie’s departure became audible, would creep over to my -bed, touch me on the shoulder, and give the signal to drag the bolsters -from a couple of unused beds and plant ourselves tailor-wise in our -dressing-gowns before the window.</p> - -<p>“It’s like the old, old days,” he would say, pointing to the sky. -“The stars don’t change much, do they?” He indicated the dim terraces -of lawn with the tassel of his dressing-gown. “Can’t you imagine it -all? <em>I</em> can. There were the long stone steps—don’t you see?—below, -running off into the plain. Behind us, all the halls and vestibules, -cool and silent, veil after veil hiding the cells for meditation, and -over there in the corner the little secret passages down to the crypts -below ground where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> the tests took place. Better put a blanket round -you if you’re cold,” he added, noticing that I shivered, though it was -excitement and not cold that sent the slight trembling over my body. -“And there”—as the church clock sounded the hour across the Kentish -woods and fields—“are the very gongs themselves, I swear, the great -gongs that swung in the centre of the dome.”</p> - -<p>Goldie’s peaceful snoring, and an occasional closing of a door as one -master after another retired to his room in the house below, were the -only sounds that reminded me of the present. Julius, sitting beside me -in the starlight, his eyes ashine, his pale skin gleaming under the mop -of tangled dark hair, whispered words that conjured up not only scenes -and memories, but the actual feelings, atmosphere and emotions of -days more ancient than any dreams. I smelt the odour of dim, pillared -aisles, tasted the freshness of desert air, heard the high rustle -of other winds in palm and tamarisk. The Past that never dies swept -down upon us from sky and Kentish countryside with the murmur of the -night-breeze in the shrubberies below. It enveloped us completely.</p> - -<p>“Not the stars we knew together <em>first</em>—not the old outlines we once -travelled by,” he whispered, describing in the air with his finger the -constellations presumably of other skies. “That was earlier still. -Yet the general look is the same. You can feel the old tinglings -coming down from some of them.” And he would name the planet that was -in ascension at the moment, with invariable correctness I found out -afterwards, and describe the particular effect it produced upon his -thoughts and imagination, the moods and forces it evoked, the mental -qualities it served—in a word its psychic influence upon the inner -personality.</p> - -<p>“Look,” he whispered, but so suddenly that it made me start. He pointed -to the darkened room behind us. “Can’t you almost see the narrow slit -in the roof where the rays came through and fell upon the metal discs -swinging in mid-air? Can’t you see the rows of dark-skinned bodies on -the ground? Can’t you feel the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> minute and crowding vibrations of the -light on your flesh, as the disc swung round and the stream fell down -in a jolly blaze all over you?”</p> - -<p>And, though I saw nothing in the room but faintly luminous patches -where the beds stood, and the two tin baths upon the floor, a vivid -scene rose before my mind’s eye that stirred poignant emotions I was -wholly at a loss to explain. The consciousness of some potent magical -life stirred in my veins, a vaster horizon, and a larger purpose than -anything I had known hitherto in my strict and conventional English -life and my quaint worship in a pale-blue tin tabernacle where all was -ugly, cramped, and literally idolatrous.</p> - -<p>“And the gongs so faintly ringing,” I cried.</p> - -<p>Julius turned quickly and thrust his face closer into mine. Then he -stood up beside the open window and drew in a deep breath of the June -night air.</p> - -<p>“Ah, you remember that?” he said, with eyes aglow. “The gongs—the big -singing gongs! There you had a bit of clean, deep memory right out of -the centre. No wonder you feel excited...!”</p> - -<p>And he explained to me, though I scarcely recognised the voice or -language, so strongly did the savour of shadowy past days inform them, -how it was in those old temples when the world was not cut off from -the rest of the universe, but claimed some psychical kinship with all -the planetary and stellar forces, that each planet was represented by -a metal gong so attuned in quality and pitch as to vibrate in sympathy -with the message of its particular rays, sound and colour helping and -answering one another till the very air trembled and pulsed with the -forces the light brought down. No doubt, Julius’s words, vibrating -with earnestness, completed my confusion while they intensified my -enjoyment, for I remember how carried away I was by this picture of the -temples acting as sounding-boards to the sky, and by his description -of the healing powers of the light and sound thus captured and -concentrated.</p> - -<p>The spirit of comedy peeped in here and there between the entr’actes, -as it were, for even the peaceful and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> studious Goldie was also -included in these adventures of forgotten days, sometimes consciously, -sometimes unconsciously.</p> - -<p>“By the gods!” Julius exclaimed, springing up, “I’ve an idea! We’ll try -it on Goldie, and see what happens!”</p> - -<p>“Try what?” I whispered, catching his own excitement.</p> - -<p>“Gongs, discs and planet,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>I stared at him through the gloom. Then I glanced towards the -unconscious victim.</p> - -<p>“There’s no harm. We’ll imagine this is one of the old temples, and -we’ll do an experiment!” He touched me on the back. Excitement ran -through me. Something caught me from the past. I watched him with an -emotion that was half amazement, half alarm.</p> - -<p>In a moment he had the looking-glass balanced upon the window-ledge at -a perilous angle, reflecting the faint starlight upon the head of the -sleeping Goldingham. Any minute I feared it would fall with a crash -upon the lawn below, or break into smithereens upon the floor. Julius -fixed it somehow with a hair-brush and a towel against the sash.</p> - -<p>“Get the disc,” he whispered, and after a moment’s reflection I -understood what he meant; I emptied one bath as quietly as possible -into the other, then dragged it across the carpet to the bedside of the -snoring Goldie who was to be “healed.” The ridiculous experiment swept -me with such a sense of reality, owing to the intense belief LeVallon -injected into it, that I never once felt inclined to laugh. I was only -vaguely afraid that Goldingham might somehow suffer.</p> - -<p>“It’s Venus,” exclaimed Julius under his breath. “She’s in the -ascendant too. That’s the luck of the gods, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>I whispered something in reply, wondering dimly what Goldie might think.</p> - -<p>“You bang the bath softly for the sound,” said he, “while I hold it -up for you. We <em>may</em> hit the right note—the vibrations that fit in -with the rate of the light, I mean—though it’s a bit of a chance, I -suppose!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span></p> - -<p>I obeyed, thinking of masters sleeping down below in the silent -building.</p> - -<p>“Louder!” exclaimed Julius peremptorily.</p> - -<p>I obeyed again, with a dismal result resembling tin cans in orgy. And -the same minute the good-natured and studious Goldingham awoke with a -start and stretched out a hand for his glasses.</p> - -<p>“Feel anything unusual, Goldie?” asked LeVallon at once, tremendously -in earnest, as he lowered the tin bath.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s only <em>you!</em>” exclaimed the victim, awakened out of his first -sleep and blinking in the gloom, “and <em>you!</em>” he added, catching sight -of me, my fist still upraised to beat; “rotten brutes, both of you! -You <em>might</em> let a fellow sleep a bit. You know I’m swotting up for an -exam.!”</p> - -<p>“But do you <em>feel</em> anything, Goldie?” insisted LeVallon, as though it -were a matter of life and death. “It was Venus, you know....”</p> - -<p>“Was it?” spluttered the other, catching sight of the big bath between -him and the open window. “Well, Venus is beastly cold. Who opened the -window?” The sight of the bath apparently unnerved him. He hardly -expected it before seven in the morning.</p> - -<p>Further explanations were cut short by the sudden collapse of the -mirror with a crash of splintering glass upon the floor. The noise of -the bath, that pinged and boomed as I balanced it against the bed, -completed the uproar. Then the door opened, and there stood—Martin.</p> - -<p>It was an awkward moment. Yet it was not half as real, half as vivid, -half as alive with the emotion of actual life, as that other memory so -recently vanished. Martin, at first, seemed the dream; that other, the -reality.</p> - -<p>He entered with a lighted candle. The noise of the opening window and -the footsteps had, no doubt, disturbed him for some time. Yet, quickly -as he came, Goldie and I were “asleep” even before he had time to cross -the threshold. Julius stood alone to face him in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> the middle of the -floor. It was characteristic of the boy. He never shirked.</p> - -<p>“What’s the meaning of all this noise?” asked Martin, obviously pleased -to find himself in a position of unexpected advantage. “LeVallon, why -are you not in bed? And why is the window open?”</p> - -<p>Secretly ashamed of myself, I lay under the sheets, wondering what -Julius would answer.</p> - -<p>“We always sleep with the window open, sir,” he said quietly.</p> - -<p>“What was that crash I heard?” asked the master, coming farther into -the room, and holding the candle aloft so that it showed every particle -of the broken glass. “Who did this?” He glanced suspiciously about him, -knowing of course that Julius was not the only culprit.</p> - -<p>LeVallon stood there, looking straight at him. Martin—as I think of -the incident to-day—had the appearance of a weasel placed by chance in -a position of advantage, yet afraid of its adversary. He winced, yet -exulted.</p> - -<p>“Do you realise that it’s long after eleven,” he observed frigidly, -“and that I shall be obliged to report you to Dr. Randall in the -morning....”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said Julius.</p> - -<p>“It’s very serious,” continued Martin, more excitedly, and -apparently uncertain how to drive home his advantage, “it’s very -distressing—er—to find you, LeVallon, Head of the School, guilty of -mischief like a Fourth-Form boy—at this hour of the night too!”</p> - -<p>The reference to the lower form was, of course, intended to be -crushing. But Julius in his inimitable way turned the tables -astonishingly.</p> - -<p>“Very good, sir,” he said calmly, “but I was only trying to get the -light of Venus, and her sound, into Goldingham’s head—into his -system, that is—by reflecting it in the looking-glass; and it fell -off the ledge. It’s an experiment of antiquity, as you know, sir. I’m -exceedingly sorry....”</p> - -<p>Martin stared. He was a little afraid of LeVallon; the boy’s knowledge -of mathematics had compelled his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> admiration as often as his questions, -sometimes before the whole class, had floored him.</p> - -<p>“It’s an old experiment,” the boy added, his pale face very grave, -“healing, you know, sir, by the rays of the planets—forgotten -star-worship—like the light-cures of to-day——”</p> - -<p>Martin’s somewhat bewildered eye wandered to the flat tin bath still -propped against Goldingham’s bedside.</p> - -<p>“... and using gongs to increase the vibrations,” explained Julius -further, noticing the glance. “We were trying to make it do for a -gong—the scientists will discover it again before long, sir.”</p> - -<p>The master hardly knew whether to laugh or scold. He stood there in his -shirt-sleeves looking hard at LeVallon who faced him with tumbled hair -and shining eyes in his woolly red dressing-gown. Erect, dignified, -for all the absurdity of the situation, the flush of his strange -enthusiasm emphasising the delicate beauty of his features, I remember -feeling that even the stupid Martin must surely understand that there -was something rather wonderful about him, and pass himself beneath the -spell.</p> - -<p>“I was the priest,” he said.</p> - -<p>“But I did the gong—I mean, the bath-part, please sir,” I put in, -unable any longer to let Julius bear all the blame.</p> - -<p>There was a considerable pause, during which grease dripped audibly -upon the floor from the master’s candle, while Goldingham lay blinking -in bed in such a way that I dared not look at him for fear of laughter. -I have often wondered since what passed through the mind of Tuke -Martin, the senior Master of Mathematics, during that pregnant interval.</p> - -<p>“Get up, all of you,” he said at length, “and pick up this mess. -Otherwise you’ll cut your feet to pieces in the morning. Here, -Goldingham, you help too. You’re no more asleep than the others.” He -tried to make his tone severe.</p> - -<p>“Goldingham only woke when the glass fell off the ledge, sir,” -explained LeVallon. “It was all my doing, really——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span></p> - -<p>“And mine,” I put in belatedly.</p> - -<p>Martin watched us gather up the fragments, Goldie, still dazed and -troubled, barking his shins against chairs and bedposts, unable to find -his blue glasses in the excitement.</p> - -<p>“Put the pieces in the bath,” continued Martin shortly, “and ring for -William in the morning to clear it away. And pay the matron for a new -looking-glass,” he added, with something of a sneer; “Mason half, and -you, LeVallon, the other half.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, sir,” said Julius.</p> - -<p>“And don’t let me hear any further sounds to-night,” said the master -finally, closing the window, and going out after another general look -of suspicion round the room.</p> - -<p>Which was all that we ever heard of the matter! For the Master of -Mathematics did not particularly care about reporting the Head of the -School to Dr. Randall, and incurring the dislike of the three top boys -into the bargain. I got the impression, too, that Tuke Martin was as -glad to get out of that room without loss of dignity as we were to see -him go. LeVallon, by his very presence even, had a way of making one -feel at a disadvantage.</p> - -<p>“Anything particular come to you?” he asked Goldie, as soon as we were -alone again, and the victim’s temper was restored by finding himself -the centre of so much general interest. “I suppose there was hardly -time, though——”</p> - -<p>“Queer dream’s all I can remember,” he replied gruffly.</p> - -<p>“What sort?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing much. I seemed to be hunting through a huge lexicon for verbs, -but every time I opened the beastly thing it was like opening the lid -of a box instead of the cover of a book; and, in place of pages, I saw -rows of people lying face downwards, and streaks of light dodging about -all over their skins. Rotten nightmare, that’s all!”</p> - -<p>Julius and I exchanged glances.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span></p> - -<p>“And then,” continued Goldie, “that bally tin bath banged like thunder -and I woke up to see you two rotters by my bed.”</p> - -<p>“If there had been more time——” Julius observed to me in an aside.</p> - -<p>“I’m jolly glad it’s your last term,” Goldingham growled, looking at -LeVallon, or LeValion, as he usually called him; “you’re as mad as a -March hare, anyhow!”—which was the sentence I took into dreamland with -me.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> -<h3><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>The blue dusk ran between the streets: my love was winged within my mind,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>It left to-day and yesterday and thrice a thousand years behind.</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>To-day was past and dead for me, for from to-day my feet had run</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Through thrice a thousand years to walk the ways of ancient Babylon.</em>”—A. E.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">It</span> was another time, very early in the morning, that LeVallon called -me from the depths of dreamless sleep with a whisper that seemed to -follow me out of some vast place where I had been lying under open -skies with the winds of heaven about my face and the stars as close as -flowers. It was no dream; I brought back no single detail of incident -or person—only this keen, sweet awareness of having been somewhere -far away upon an open plain or desert of enormous stretch, waiting for -something, watching, preparing—and that I had been awakened. Great -hands drew back into the stars; eyes that were mighty closed; heads of -majestic aspect turned away; and Presences of some infinite demeanour -grandly concealed themselves as when mountains become veiled by the -hood of hurrying clouds. I had the feeling that the universe had -touched me, then withdrawn.</p> - -<p>The room was dark, but shades of tender grey, stealing across the walls -and ceiling, told that the dawn was near. Our windows faced the east; a -flush of delicate light was in the sky; and, between me and this sky, -something moved very softly and came close. It touched me.</p> - -<p>Julius, I saw, was bending down above my pillow.</p> - -<p>“Are you ready?” he whispered, as I felt his hand upon my hair. “The -sun is on the way!”</p> - -<p>The words, however, at first, seemed not in English,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> but in some -other half-familiar language that I instantly translated into my own -tongue. They drifted away from me like feathers into space. I grew -wide awake and rubbed my eyes. It startled me a little to find myself -in this modern room and to see his pale visage peering so closely into -mine. I surely had dropped from a height, or risen from some hollow of -prodigious depth; for it flashed across me that, had I waked a moment -sooner, I must have caught a glimpse of other faces, heard other voices -in that old familiar language, remembered other well-known things, all -of which had fled too suddenly away, plunging with swiftness into the -limbo of forgotten times and places.... It was very sweet. There was -yearning desire in me to know more.</p> - -<p>I sat up in bed.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” I asked, my tongue taking the words with a certain -curious effort. “What were you saying...? A moment ago ... just now?” I -tried to arrest the rout of flying sensations. Dim, shadowy remoteness -gathered them away like dreams.</p> - -<p>“I’m calling you to see the sunrise,” he whispered softly, taking my -hand to raise me; “the sunrise on the Longest Day upon the plain. Wake -up and come!”</p> - -<p>Confusion vanished at his touch and voice. Yet a fragment of words just -vanished dropped back into my mind. Something sublime and lovely ran -between us.</p> - -<p>“But you were saying—about the Blue Circle and the robes—that it was -time to——” I went on, then, with the effort to remember, lost the -clue completely. He <em>had</em> said these other things, but already they had -dipped beyond recovery. I scrambled out of bed, almost expecting to -find some robe or other in place of my old grey dressing-gown beside -the chair. Strong feelings were in me, awe, wonder, high expectancy, -as of some grand and reverent worship. No mere bedroom of a modern -private school contained me. I was elsewhere, among imperial and august -conditions. I was aware of the Universe, and the Universe aware of me.</p> - -<p>I spoke his name as I followed him softly over the carpet. But to my -amazement, my tongue refused the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> familiar “Julius” of to-day, and -framed instead another sound. Four syllables lay in the name. It was -“Concerighé” that slipped from my lips. Then instantly, in the very -second of utterance, it was gone beyond recovery. I tried to repeat the -name, and could not find it.</p> - -<p>Julius laughed softly just below his breath, making no reply. I saw his -white teeth shine in the semi-darkness. He moved away on tiptoe towards -the window, while I followed....</p> - -<p>The lower sash was open wide as usual. I heard Goldingham breathing -quietly in his sleep. Still with the mistiness of slumber round me, -I felt bewildered, half caught away, as it seemed, into some web of -ancient, far-off things that swung earthwards from the stars. In this -net of other times and other places, I hung suspended above the world I -ordinarily knew. I was not Mason, a Sixth-Form boy at a private school -in Kent, yet I was indubitably myself. A flood of memories rose; my -soul moved among more spacious conditions; all hauntingly alive and -real, yet never recoverable completely....</p> - -<p>We stood together by the open window and looked out. The country lay -still beneath the fading stars. A faint breath of air stirred in the -laurel shrubberies below. The notes of awakening birds, marvellously -sweet, came penetratingly from the distant woods. I smelt the night, -I smelt the coolness of very early morning, but there was another -subtler, wilder perfume, that came to my nostrils with a deep thrill of -happiness I could not name. It was the perfume of another day, another -time, another land, all three as familiar to me as this Kentish hill -where now I lived, yet gone otherwise beyond recall. Deep emotion -stirred in me the sense of recognition, as though smell alone had the -power to reconstruct the very atmosphere of those dim days by raising -the ghosts of feelings that once accompanied them....</p> - -<p>To the right I saw the dim cricket-field with hedge of privet and -hawthorn that ran away in a dark and undulating line towards the -hop-poles standing stiffly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> in the dusk; and, farther off, to the -left, loomed the oast-houses, peaked and hooded, their faces turned -the other way like a flock of creatures that belonged to darkness. The -past seemed already indistinguishable from the present. I stood upon -shifting sands that rustled beneath my feet.... The centuries drove -backwards....</p> - -<p>And the eastern sky, serene and cloudless, ran suddenly into gold and -crimson near to the horizon’s rim. It became a river of fire that -flashed along the edge of the world with high, familiar speed. It -broke the same instant into coloured foam far overhead, with shafts -of reddish light that swept the stars and put them out. And then this -strange thing happened:</p> - -<p>For, as my sight passed from the shadowy woods beyond, the scene before -me rose like a lifted map into the air; changed; trembled as though -it were a sheet shaken from the four corners, and—disclosed another -scene below it, most exquisitely prepared. The world I knew melted and -disappeared. I looked a second time. It was gone.</p> - -<p>And with it vanished the entire little bundle of thoughts and feelings -I was accustomed to regard as John Mason.... I smelt the long and windy -odours of the open world. The stars bent down and whispered. Rivers -rolled through me. Forests and grass grew thickly in my thoughts. And -there was dew upon my face.... It was all so natural and simple. It was -divine. The Universe was conscious. I was not separate from it at any -point.... More, I was conscious with it.</p> - -<p>Far off, as an auditorium seen with a bird’s-eye view from some -gigantic height, yet with the distinctness of a map both scaled and -raised, I saw a treeless plain of vast dimensions, grey in the shadows -just before the dawn. In the middle distance stood a domed white -building upon the summit of a mound, with broad steps of stone in -circles all about it, leading to a pillared door that faced the east. -On all sides round it, covering the plain like grass, there was a -concourse, many thousands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> strong, of people, upright and motionless, -arranged in wide concentric rings, each one a hundred to two hundred -deep. Each ring was dressed in coloured robes, from blue to red, -from green to a soft pale yellow, purple, brown and orange, and the -outermost of all a delicate and tender green that merged into the tint -of the plain itself at a distance of a mile beyond the central building.</p> - -<p>These concentric rings of colour, this vast living wheel of exquisitely -merging tints, standing motionless and silent about the hub of that -majestic temple, formed a picture whose splendour has never left my -mind; and a sense of intoxicating joy and awe swept through me as -something whispered that long ago, I, too, had once taken my appointed -place in those great circles, and had felt the power of the Deity of -Living Fire pass into me in the act of worship just about to begin. The -courage and sweetness of the sun stole on me; light, heat and glory -burned in my heart; I knew myself akin to earth, sea and sky, as also -to every human unit in the breathing wheel; and, knowing this, I knew -the power of the universe was in me because the universe was my Self.</p> - -<p>Imperceptibly at first, but a moment later with measurable speed, a -movement ran quivering round the circles. They began to turn. The -immense, coloured wheel revolved silently upon the plain. The rings -moved alternately, the first to the right, the second to the left, -those at the outer rim more swiftly, and those within more slowly, each -according to its distance from the centre, so that the entire mass -presented the appearance of a single body rotating with a uniform and -perfect smoothness. There rose a deep, muffled sound of myriad feet -that trampled down the sand. The mighty shuffling of it paced the air. -No other sound was audible. The sky grew swiftly brighter. The shafts -of light shot out like arms towards the paling zenith. There came a -whir of cool, delicious wind that instantly died down again and left -the atmosphere more still and empty than before.</p> - -<p>And then the sun came up. With the sudden rush<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> of an eastern clime, -it rose above the world. One second it was not there, the next it -had appeared. The wheel blazed into flame. The circles turned to -coloured fire. And a roaring chant burst forth instantaneously—a -prodigious sound of countless voices whose volume was as the volume -of an ocean. This wind of singing swept like a tempest overhead, each -circle emitting the note related to its colour, the total resulting in -a chord whose magnificence shook the heart with an ecstasy of joyful -worship.... I was aware of the elemental power of fire in myself....</p> - -<p>How long this lasted, or how long I listened is impossible to tell -... the dazzling glory slowly faded; there came a moment when the -brilliance dimmed; a blur of coloured light rose like a sheet from the -surface of the wheeling thousands, floating off into the sky as though -it were a separate shining emanation the multitude gave off. I seemed -to lose my feet. I no longer stood on solid earth. There came upon me -a curious sense of lightness, as of wings, that yet left my body far -below.... I was charged with a deific power, energy.... Long shafts of -darkness flashed across the sea of light; the pattern of interwoven -colour was disturbed and broken; and, suddenly, with a shock as though -I fell again from some great height, I remembered dimly that I was no -longer—that my name was——</p> - -<p>I cannot say. I only know confusion and darkness sponged the entire -picture from the world; and my sight, I suddenly realised, went groping -with difficulty about a little field, a rough, uneven hedge, a strip of -ribboned whiteness that was a road, and some ugly, odd-shaped things -that I recognised as—yes, as oast-houses just beyond. And a pale, -sad-looking sun then crawled above the horizon where the hop-poles -stood erect.</p> - -<p>“You saw...?” whispered someone beside me.</p> - -<p>It was Julius. His voice startled me. I had forgotten his very presence.</p> - -<p>I nodded in reply; no words came to me; there was still a trembling in -me, a sense of intolerable yearning,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> of beauty lost, of power gone -beyond recall, of pain and littleness in the place of it.</p> - -<p>Julius kept his eyes upon my face, as though waiting for an answer.</p> - -<p>“The sun ...” I said in a low and shaking voice.</p> - -<p>He bent his head a moment, leaning down upon the window-sill with his -face in his hands.</p> - -<p>“As we knew it then,” he said with a deep-drawn sigh, raising himself -again. “To-day——!”</p> - -<p>He pointed. Across the fields I saw the tin roof of the conventicle -where we went to church on Sunday, lifting its modern ugliness beyond -the playground walls. The contrast was somehow dreadful. A revulsion of -feeling rose within me like a storm. I stared at the meagre building -beneath whose roof of corrugated iron, once a week, we knelt and -groaned that we were “miserable sinners”—begging another to save us -from “punishment” because we were too weak to save ourselves. I saw -once more in memory the upright-standing throng, claiming with joy -the powers of that other Deity of whom they knew they formed a living -portion. And again this intolerable yearning swept me. My soul rose up -in a passionate protest that vainly sought to express itself in words. -Language deserted me; tears dimmed my eyes and blurred my sight; I -stretched my hands out straight towards that misty sunrise of To-day....</p> - -<p>And, when at length I turned again to speak to Julius, I saw that he -had already left my side and gone back to bed.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> -<h3><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>Not unremembering we pass our exile from the starry ways:</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>One timeless hour in time we caught from the long night of endless days.</em>”—A. E.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">And</span> so, in due course, the period of our schooldays came to its -appointed end without one single further reference to the particular -thing I dreaded. Julius had offered no further word of explanation, and -my instinctive avoidance of the subject had effectively prevented my -asking pointed questions. It remained, however; it merely waited the -proper moment to reveal itself. It was real. No effort on my part, no -evasion, no mere pretence that it was fantasy or imagination altered -<em>that</em>. The time would come when I should know and understand; evasion -would be impossible. It was inevitable as death.</p> - -<p>During our last term together it lay in almost complete abeyance, only -making an appearance from time to time in those vivid dreams which -still presented themselves in sleep. It hid; and I pretended bravely to -ignore it altogether.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile our days were gloriously happy, packed with interest, and -enlivened often with experiences as true and beautiful as the memory -of our ancient sun-worship I have attempted to describe. No doubt -assailed me; we <em>had</em> existed in the past together; those pictures of -“inner scenery” were memories. The emotions that particular experience, -and many others, stirred in me were as genuine as the emotions I -experienced the last term but one, when my mother died; and, whatever -my opinion of the entire series may be to-day, on looking back, honesty -compels me to admit this positive character of their actuality. There -was no make-believe, no mere imagination.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span></p> - -<p>Our intimacy became certainly very dear to me, and I felt myself linked -to Julius LeVallon more closely than to a brother. The knowledge that -much existed he could not, or would not, share with me was pain, the -pain of jealousy and envy, or possibly the deeper pain that a barrier -was raised. Sometimes, indeed, he went into his Other Places almost -for days together where I could not follow him, and on these occasions -the masters found him absent-minded and the boys avoided him; he went -about alone; if games or study compelled his attention, he would give -it automatically—almost as though his body obeyed orders mechanically -while the main portion of his consciousness seemed otherwise engaged. -And, while it lasted, he would watch me curiously, as from a distance, -expecting apparently that I would suddenly “remember” and come up to -join him. His soul beckoned me, I felt, but half in vain. I longed to -be with him, to go where he was, to see what he saw, but there was -something that effectually prevented.</p> - -<p>And these periods of absence I rather dreaded for some reason. It was -uncanny, almost creepy. For I would suddenly meet his glowing eyes -fixed queerly, searchingly on my own, gazing from behind a veil at me, -asking pregnant questions that I could not catch. I would see him lying -there beneath the larches of the cricket-field alone, rapt, far away, -deep in his ancient recollections, and apart from me; or I would come -upon him suddenly in the road, in a sunny corner of the playground, -even in the deserted gymnasium on certain afternoons, when he would -start to see me, and turn away without a word, but with an expression -of unhappy yearning in his eyes as though he shared my pain that he -dwelt among these Other Places which, for the moment, I might not know.</p> - -<p>Many, many, indeed, are the details of these days that I might -mention, but their narration would prove too long. One, however, may -be told. He had, for instance, a kind of sign-language that was quite -remarkable. On the sandy floor of a disused gravel-pit, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> we lay -on windy days for shelter while we talked, he would trace with a twig -a whole series of these curious signs. They were for him the alphabet -of a long-forgotten language—some system of ideograph or pictorial -representation that expressed the knowledge of the times when it was -used. He never made mistakes; the same sign invariably had the same -meaning; and it all existed so perfectly in his inner vision that he -used it even in his work, and kept a book in which the Greek play of -the moment was written out entirely in this old hieroglyphic side by -side with the original. He read from it in class, even under the eagle -eye of the Head, with the same certainty as he read from the Greek -itself.</p> - -<p>There were characteristic personal habits, too, that struck me later -as extraordinary for a boy of eighteen—in England; for he led an -inner life of exceeding strictness, not to say severity, and was for -ever practising mental concentration with a view to obtaining complete -control of his feelings, thoughts and, therefore, actions. Upright as -a rod of steel himself, he was tolerant to the failings of others, -lenient to their weaknesses, and forgiving to those who wronged him. He -bore no malice, cherished no ill-feeling. “It’s as far as they’ve got,” -he used to say, “and no one can be farther than he is.” Indeed, his -treatment of others implied a degree of indifference to self that had -something really big about it. And, even on the lowest grounds, to bear -a grudge meant only casting a net that must later catch the feet.</p> - -<p>His wants in the question of food were firmly regulated too; for at -an age when most boys consider it almost an aim in life to devour -all they can possibly get and to spend half of their pocket-money on -tempting eatables, Julius exercised a really Spartan control over these -particular appetites. Not only was his fare most frugal in quantity, -but he avoided the eating of meat almost entirely, alcohol completely, -and sometimes would fast for a period that made me wonder for his -health. He never spoke of this. I noticed it. Nor ever once did he use -his influence to persuade me to like habits. No boy was ever less a -prig than LeVallon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> Another practice of his was equally singular. In -order to increase control of the body and develop tenacity of will, I -have known him, among other similar performances, stand for hours at a -time on winter nights, clad only in a nightshirt, fighting sleep, cold, -hunger, movement—stand like a statue in the centre of the room, as -though the safety of the world depended upon success.</p> - -<p>Most curious of all, however, seemed to me his habit of—what I can -only call—communing with inanimate things. “You only remember the -sections where we were together,” he explained, when once I asked the -meaning of what he did; “and as you were little with me when this was -the way of getting knowledge, it is difficult for you to understand.” -This fact likewise threw light upon the enormous intervals between -remembered sections. We recalled no recent ones at all. We had not come -back together in them.</p> - -<p>This communing with inanimate things had chiefly to do, of course, with -Nature, and I may confess at once that it considerably alarmed me. To -read about it comfortably in an armchair over the fire is one thing; -to see it done is another. It alarmed me, moreover, for the reason -that somewhere, somehow, it linked on to the thing I dreaded above all -others—the days when he and I and <em>she</em> had made some wrong, some -selfish use of it. This, of course, remained an intuition of my own. -I never asked; I never spoke of it. Only in my very bones I felt sure -that the thing we three must come together to put right again somehow -involved, and involved unpleasantly, this singular method of acquiring -knowledge and acquiring power. We had abused it together; we had yet to -put it right.</p> - -<p>To see Julius practising this mysterious process with a stone, a -flower, a tree, and to hear him then talk about these three different -objects, was like listening to a fairy tale told with the skill of a -great imaginative artist. He personified them, gave their life history, -rendered their individual experiences, moods, sensations, qualities, -adventures—anything and everything that could ever happen to a stone, -a flower, a tree. I realised their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span> existence from their own point of -view; felt-with them; shared their joys and sufferings, and understood -that they were living things, though with a degree of life so far below -our own. Communion with Nature was, for him, communion with the very -ground of things. All this, though exquisitely wonderful, was within -the grasp of sympathetic comprehension. It was natural.</p> - -<p>But when he dealt with things less concrete—and his favourites were -elemental forces such as air and heat, or as he preferred to call them, -wind and fire—the experience, though no whit less convincing owing to -the manner of his description, was curiously disturbing, because of the -results produced upon himself. I can describe it in two words, though I -can give no real idea of it in two thousand. He rushed, he flamed. It -was almost as if, in one case, his actual radiation became enormous, -and in the other, some power swept, as in the form of torrential -enthusiasm, from his very person. <em>I</em> remember my first impression in -the class-room—that a great wind blew, and that flaming colours moved -upon the air.</p> - -<p>When he was “feeling-with” this pair of elemental forces he seemed to -draw their powers into his own being so that I, being in close sympathy -with him, caught some hint of what was going forward in his heart. -Sometimes on drowsy summer afternoons when no air stirred through -the open windows of the room, there would come a sudden change in my -surroundings, an alteration. I would hear a faint and distant sound of -roaring; something invisible drove past me. Julius, at the desk beside -me, had finished work, and closed his books. His head in his hands, he -sat motionless, an intent expression on both face and body, wrapped -deep in concentrated effort of some kind. He was practising.... And -once, too, I remember being waked out of sleep in the early morning -with an impression of a stimulating heat about me which amounted to an -intensification of life almost. There he stood beside the window, arms -folded, head bent down upon his breast, and an effect about him that -can only be described as glowing. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> air immediately round him seemed -to shine with a faint, delicate radiance as of tropical starlight, or -as though he stood over a dying fire of red-hot coals. It was a half -fascinating, half terrifying sight; the light pulsed and trembled with -distinct vibrations, the air quivered so as to increase his bodily -appearance. He looked taller, vaster. And not once I saw this thing, -but many times. No single dream could possibly explain it. In both -cases, with the wind as with the fire, his life seemed magnified as -though he borrowed from these elemental forces of Nature their own -special qualities and powers.</p> - -<p>“All the elements,” I remember his saying to me once, “are in our -bodies. Do you expect Nature to be less intelligent than the life that -she produces?” For him, certainly, there was the manifestation of -something deeper than physics in the operations of so-called natural -laws.</p> - -<p>For here, let me say now in conclusion of this broken record of -our days at school together, was the rock on which our intercourse -eventually suffered interruption, and here was that first sign of the -parting of our ways. It frightened me.... Later, in our university -days, the cleavage became definite, causing a break in our friendship -that seemed at the moment final. For a long time the feeling in me had -been growing that his way and mine could not lie much farther together. -Julius attributed it to my bringing up, which I was not independent -enough to shake off. I can only say that I became conscious uneasily -that this curious intercourse with Nature—“communing” as he termed -it—led somehow away from the Christianity of my childhood to the gods -and deification of the personal self. I did not see at the time, as he -insisted, that <em>both</em> were true, being different aspects of the central -fact that God is the Universe, and that man, being literally part of -it, must eventually know Him face to face by actually becoming Him. All -this lay far beyond me at the time.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me then, and more as I grew older, an illegitimate, -dangerous traffic; for paganism, my father taught me sternly, was the -Devil, and that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> Universe could actually be alive was a doctrine of -heathenish days that led straight to hell and everlasting burning. I -could not see, as Julius saw, that here was teaching which might unify -the creeds, put life into the formal churches, inspire the world with -joy and hope, and bring on the spirit of brotherhood by helping the -soul to rediscover its kinship with a living cosmos.</p> - -<p>One certainty, however, my schooldays with this singular boy bequeathed -to me, a certainty I have never lost, and a very gorgeous and inspiring -one—that life is continuous.</p> - -<p>LeVallon lived in eternal life. He knew that it stretched infinitely -behind his present “section,” and infinitely ahead into countless other -“sections.” The results of what lay behind he must inevitably exhaust. -Be that harvest painful or pleasant, he must reap what he had sown. But -the future lay entirely in his own hands, and in his power of decision; -chance or caprice had no word to say at all. And this consciousness -of being in eternal life now, at the present moment, master of fate, -potentially at least deific—this has remained a part of me, whether -I will or no. To Julius LeVallon I owe certainly this unalterable -conviction.</p> - -<p>Another memory of that early intercourse that has remained with me, -though too vaguely for very definite description, is the idea that -personal life, even in its smallest details, is part of a cosmic -ceremony, that to perform it faithfully deepens the relationship man -bears to the Universe as a living whole, and is therefore of ultimate -spiritual significance. An inspiring thought, I hold, even in the -vagueness of my comprehension of it.</p> - -<p>Yet above and beyond such notions, remained the chief memory of all: -that in some such ancient cosmic ceremony, Julius, myself and one other -had somehow abused our privileges in regard to Nature Powers, and that -the act of restoration still awaiting fulfilment at our hands, an -act involving justice to the sun and stars as well as to our lesser -selves, could not be accomplished until that “other” was found on earth -together with himself and me. And that other was a woman.</p> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> -<h2><a name="Edinburgh" id="Edinburgh"></a>Book II<br /> -EDINBURGH</h2> -</div> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="tb" /> -<blockquote> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> -“<em>We do not know where sentient powers, in the widest sense -of the term, begin or end. And there may be disturbances and -moods of Nature wherein the very elemental forces approach -sentient being, so that, perhaps, mythopœic man has not -been altogether a dreamer of dreams. I need not dwell on the -striking reflections to which this possibility gives rise; -enough that an idealistic dynamism forces the possibility on -our view. If the life of Nature is from time to time, and under -special conditions, raised to the intense requisite level, -we are in the presence of elemental forces whose character -primitive man has not entirely misunderstood.</em>”—“Individual -and Reality” (E. D. Fawcett).</p> -</blockquote> -</div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> -<h3><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">There</span> was an interval of a year and a half before we met again. No -letters passed between us, and I had no knowledge of where LeVallon -was or what he did. Yet while in one sense we had gone apart, in -another sense I knew that our relationship suffered no actual break. -It seemed inevitable that we should come together again. Our tie was -of such a kind that neither could shake the other off. In the meantime -my soldier’s career had been abandoned; loss of money in the family -decreed a more remunerative destiny; and the interval had been spent -learning French and German abroad with a view to a less adventurous -profession. At the age of nineteen, or thereabouts, I found myself at -Edinburgh University to study for a Bachelor of Science degree, and the -first face I saw in Professor Geikie’s lecture room for geology was -that of my old school-friend of the “Other Places,” Julius LeVallon.</p> - -<p>I stood still and stared, aware of two opposing sensations. For -this unexpected meeting came with a kind of warning upon me. I felt -pleasure, I felt dread: I cannot determine which came first, only that, -mingled with the genuine gratification, there was also the touch of -uneasiness, the sinking of the heart I knew so well.</p> - -<p>And I remember saying to myself—so odd are the tricks of memory—“Why, -he’s as pale as ever! Always that marble skin!” As though during -the interval he ought somehow to have acquired more colour. He was -tall, over six feet, thin, graceful as an Oriental; an expression of -determination in his face had replaced the former dreaminess. The eyes -were clear and very strong. There was an expression of great intensity -about him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span></p> - -<p>His greeting was characteristic: he showed eager pleasure, but -expressed no surprise.</p> - -<p>“Old souls like ours are bound to meet again,” he said with a smile as -he shook my hand. “We have so much to do together.”</p> - -<p>I recalled the last time I had seen him, waiting on the school platform -as the train went out, and I realised that there were changes in him -that left me standing still, as it were. Perhaps he caught my thought, -for his face took on a touch of sadness; he gazed into my eyes, making -room for me beside him on the bench. “But you’ve been dawdling on the -way a bit,” he added. “You’ve been after other things, I see.”</p> - -<p>It was true enough. I had fallen in love, for one thing, besides -devoting myself with the ardour of youth to literature, music, sport, -and other normal interests of my age. From his point of view, of -course, I had not advanced, whereas he obviously had held steadily -to the path he had chosen for himself, following always one main -thing—this star in the east of his higher knowledge. His attitude -to me, I felt moreover, had undergone a change. The old sympathy and -affection had not altered, but a strain of pity had crept in, a regret -that I suffered the attractions of the world to interfere with my -development.</p> - -<p>A delay, as he called it, in our relationship there had certainly been, -though the instant we met I realised that something bound us together -fundamentally with a power that superficial changes or external -separation could never wholly dissolve.</p> - -<p>Yet, on the whole, I saw little enough of him during these Edinburgh -days, far less certainly than at Motfield Close. I was older, for one -thing, more of the world for another. As a boy, of course, the idea -that we renewed an eternal friendship, faithful to one another through -so many centuries, made a romantic appeal that was considerable. But -the glamour had evaporated; I was a man now, I considered, busy with -the things of men. At the same time I was aware that these other -tendencies were by no means dead in me, and that very little would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> be -required to revive them. Buried by other interests, they were yet ready -to assert themselves again.</p> - -<p>And LeVallon, for his part, though he saw less of me, and I think cared -to see less of me than before, kept deliberately in touch, and of set -purpose would not suffer us to go too far apart. We did not live in -the same building, but he came often to my rooms, we took great walks -together over the Pentland Hills, and once or twice wandered down the -coast from Musselburgh to the cliffs of St. Abbs Head above the sea. -Why he came to Edinburgh at all, indeed, puzzled me a little; but I am -probably not far wrong in saying that two things decided the choice: -He wished to keep me in sight, having heard somehow of my destination; -and, secondly, certain aspects of Nature that he needed were here -easily accessible—the sea, hills, woods, and lonely places that his -way of life demanded. Among the lectures he took a curious selection: -geology, botany, chemistry, certain from the Medical Course, such -as anatomy and materia medica, and, above all, the advanced mental -classes. He attended operations, post-mortems, and anything in the -nature of an experiment, while the grim Dissecting Room knew him as -well as if his living depended upon passing the examination in anatomy.</p> - -<p>Of his inner life at this period it was not so easy to form an -estimate. He worked incessantly, but at something I never could quite -determine. At school he was for ever thinking of this “something”; now -he was working at it. It seemed remote from the life of the rest of us, -students and others, because its aim was different. Pleasure, as such, -and the usual forms of indulgence, he left on one side; and women, -though his mysterious personality, his physical beauty, and his cold -indifference attracted them, he hardly admitted into his personal life -at all; to his intimacy, never. His habits were touched with a singular -quality of selflessness, very rare, very exquisite, sincere as it was -modest, that set him apart in a kind of divine loneliness, giving to -all, yet asking of none. My former feeling that his aims were tinged by -something dark and anti-spiritual no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> longer held good; it was due to a -partial and limited judgment, to ignorance, even to misunderstanding. -His aims were undeniably lofty, his life both good and pure. Respect -grew with my closer study of him, for his presence brought an uplifting -atmosphere of intenser life whose centre of activity lay so high above -the aims of common men as to constitute an “other-worldliness” of a -very unusual kind indeed.</p> - -<p>I observed him now as a spectator, more critically. No dreams or -imaginative visions—with one or two remarkable exceptions—came -to bewilder judgment. I saw him from outside. If not sufficiently -unaffected by his ideas to be quite a normal critic, I was certainly -more prosaic, and often sceptical. None the less the other deeper -tendency in me was still strong; it easily wakened into life. This deep -contradiction existed.</p> - -<p>The only outward change I noticed, apart from the greater maturity -and decision in the features, was a look of sadness he habitually -wore, that altered when he spoke of the things he cared about, into an -expression of radiant joy. The thought of his great purpose then lit -flames in his eyes, and brought into the whole countenance a certain -touch of grandeur. It was not often, evidently, that he found anyone -to talk with; and arguing, as such, he never cared about. He knew. He -was one of those fortunate beings who never had felt doubt. Perfect -assurance he had.</p> - -<p>Julius, at that time, occupied a suite of rooms at the end of Princes -Street, where Queensferry Road turns towards the Forth. They were, I -think, his only extravagance, for the majority of students were content -with a couple of rooms, or a modest flat on the Morningside. This suite -he furnished himself, and there was one room in it that no one but -himself might enter. It had, I believe, no stick of furniture in it, -and required, therefore, no dusting apparently; in any case, neither -landlady, friend nor servant ever passed its door.</p> - -<p>My curiosity concerning it was naturally considerable, though never -satisfied. He needed a place, it seems, where absolute solitude was -possible, an atmosphere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> uncoloured by others. He made frequent use of -it, but whether for that process of “feeling-with” already mentioned, -or for some kind of secret worship, ceremonial, or what not, is -more than I can say. Often enough I have sat waiting for him in the -outer room when he was busy within this mysterious sanctum; no sound -audible; no movement; a bright light visible beneath the crack of the -door; a sense of hush, both deep and solemn, about the entire place. -Though it may sound ridiculous to say so, there was a certain air of -sanctity that hung like a veil about that inner chamber, the silence -and stillness evoked a hint of reverence. I waited with something -between awe and apprehension for the handle to turn, aware that behind -the apparent stillness something intensely active was going forward, -of which faint messages reached my mind outside. Certainly, while -sitting with book or newspaper, waiting for his footstep, my thoughts -would glow and burn within me, rushing with energy along unaccustomed -channels, and I remember the curious feeling that behind those panels -of painted deal there lay a space far larger than the mere proportions -of a room.</p> - -<p>As in the fairy-tale, that door opened into outer space; and I suspect -that Julius used the solitude for “communing” with those Nature Powers -he seemed always busy with. Once, indeed, when he at length appeared, -after keeping me waiting for a longer period than usual, I was aware -of two odd things about him: he brought with him a breath of open air, -cool, fresh and scented as by the fragrance of the forest; about him, -too, a faintly luminous atmosphere that lent to his face a kind of -delicate radiance almost shining. My sight for a moment wavered; the -air between us vibrated as he came across the room towards me. There -was a strangeness round about him. There was power. And when he spoke, -his voice, though low as always, had a peculiar resonance that woke -echoes, it seemed, beyond the actual walls.</p> - -<p>The impressions vanished as curiously as they came; but their -reality was beyond question. And at times like these, I confess, -the old haunting splendour of his dream<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> would come afresh upon me -as at Motfield Close. My little world of ambition and desire seemed -transitory and vain. The magic of his personality stole sweetly, -powerfully upon me; I was swept by gusts of passionate yearning to -follow where he led. For his purpose was not selfish. The knowledge and -powers he sought were for the ultimate service of the world. It was the -permanent Self he trained rather than the particular brain and body of -one brief and transient “section,” called To-day.</p> - -<p>These moods with me passed off quickly, and the practical world in -which I now lived brought inevitable reaction; I mention them to -show that in me two persons existed still: an upper, that took life -normally like other people, and a lower, that hid with Julius LeVallon -in strange “Other Places.” For in this duality lies the explanation of -certain experiences I later shared with him, to be related presently.</p> - -<p>Our relations, meanwhile, held intimate and close as of old—up to a -certain point. There was this barrier of my indifference and the pity -that it bred in him. Though never urging it, he was always hoping that -I would abandon all and follow him; but, failing this, he held to me -because something in the future made me necessary. Otherwise the gulf -between us had certainly not widened.</p> - -<p>I see him as he stood before me in those Edinburgh lodgings: young, -in the full tide of modern life, with good faculties, health, means, -looks, high character, and sane as a policeman! All that men hold dear -and the world respects was his. Yet, without a hint of insincerity or -charlatanism, he seemed conscious only of what he deemed the long, -sweet prizes of the soul, difficult of attainment, and to the majority -mere dreams. His was that rare detachment which sees clear to the end, -not through avoiding the stress of perilous adventure by the way, -but through refusing the conclusion that the adventures were ends in -themselves, or could have any other significance than as items in -development, justifying all suffering.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span></p> - -<p>Eternal life for him was <em>now</em>. He sought the things that once acquired -can never be forgotten, since their fruits are garnered by the Self -that persists through all the series of consecutive lives. Through -all the bewildering rush and clamour of the amazing world he looked -ever to the star burning in the depths of his soul. And for a tithe of -his certainty, as of the faith and beauty of living that accompanied -it, I sometimes felt tempted to give all that I possessed and follow -him. The scale at any rate was grand. The fall of empires, the crash -of revolutions, the destiny of nations, all to him were as nothing -compared with the advance or retreat of a single individual soul in the -pursuit of what he deemed “real knowledge.”</p> - -<p>Yet, while acknowledging the seduction of his dream, and even half -yielding to it sometimes, ran ever this hidden thread of lurking -dread and darkness that, for the life of me, I could never entirely -get rid of. It was lodged too deeply in me for memory to discover, or -for argument to eject. Ridicule could not reach it, denial made no -difference. To ignore it was equally ineffective. Even during the long -interval of our separation it was never quite forgotten. Like something -on the conscience it smouldered out of sight, but when the time was -ripe it would burst into a blaze.</p> - -<p>At school I merely “funked” it; I would not hear about it. Now, -however, my attitude had changed a little. The sense of responsibility -that comes with growing older was involved—rather to my annoyance -and dismay. Here was something I must put right, or miss an important -object of my being. It was inevitable; the sooner it was faced and done -with, the better.</p> - -<p>Yet the time, apparently, was not quite yet.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span> -<h3><a name="X" id="X"></a>CHAPTER X</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<em>Instead of conceiving the elements as controlled merely by -blindly operative forces, they may be imagined as animated -spiritual beings, who strive after certain states, and offer -resistance to certain other states.</em>”—Lotze.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">In</span> connection with LeVallon’s settled conviction that the Universe was -everywhere alive and one, and that only the thinnest barriers divided -animate from so-called inanimate Nature, I recall one experience -in particular. The world men ordinarily know is limited to a few -vibrations the organs of sense respond to. Though science, with her -delicate new instruments, was beginning to justify the instinctive -knowledge of an older time, and wireless marvels and radio-activity -were still unknown (at the time of which I write), Julius spoke of -them as the groundwork of still greater marvels by which thought would -be transmissible. The thought-current was merely a little higher than -the accepted wave lengths; moreover, powers and qualities were equally -transmissible. Unscientifically, he was aware of all these things, -and into this beyond-world he penetrated, apparently, though with the -effort of a long-forgotten practice. He linked the human with the -non-human. He knew Saturn or the Sun in the same way that he knew a -pebble or a wild flower—by feeling-with them.</p> - -<p>“It’s coming back into the world,” he said. “Before we leave this -section it will all be known again. The ‘best minds,’” he laughed, -“will publish it in little primers, and will label it ‘extension of -consciousness,’ or some such laboured thing. And they will think -themselves very wonderful to have discovered what they really only -re-collect.”</p> - -<p>He looked up at me and smiled significantly, as we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> sat side by side -in the Dissecting Room, busily tracing the nerves and muscles in a -physical “instrument” some soul had recently cast aside. I use his -own curious phraseology, of course. He laid his pointed weapon down a -moment upon the tangle of the solar plexus that resembled the central -switch-board of a great London telegraph office.</p> - -<p>“There’s the main office,” he pointed, “not <em>that</em>,” indicating the -sawn-off skull where the brain was visible. “Feeling is the clue, not -thinking.”</p> - -<p>And, then and there, he described how this greatest nerve-centre of the -human system could receive and transmit messages and powers between its -owner and the entire universe. His quiet yet impassioned language I -cannot pretend at this interval to give; I only remember the conviction -that his words conveyed. It was more wonderful than any fairy-tale, for -it made the fairy-tale come true. For this “beyond-world” of Julius -LeVallon contained whole hierarchies of living beings, whose actuality -is veiled to-day in legend, folk-lore, and superstition generally—some -small and gentle as the fairies, some swift and radiant as the biblical -angels, others, again, dark, powerful and immense as the deities of -savage and “primitive” races. But all knowable, all obedient to the -laws of their own being, and, furthermore, all accessible to the -trained will of the human who understood them. Their great powers -could be borrowed, used, adapted. Herein lay for him a means to deeper -wisdom, richer life, the recovery of true worship, powers that must -eventually help Man to that knowledge of the universe which is, more -simply put, the knowledge of one God. At present Man was separate, cut -off from all this bigger life, matter “inanimate” and Nature “dead.”</p> - -<p>And I remember that in this remarkable outburst he touched very nearly -upon the origin of my inner dread. Again I felt sure that it was in -connection with practices of this nature that he and I and <em>she</em> -had involved ourselves in something that, as it were, disturbed the -equilibrium of those forces whose balance constitutes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> the normal -world, but something that could only be put right again by the three of -us acting in concert and facing an ordeal that was somehow terrible.</p> - -<p>One afternoon in October I always associate particularly with this talk -about elemental Nature Powers being accessible to human beings, for it -was the first occasion that I actually witnessed anything in the nature -of definite results. And I recall it in detail; the memory of such an -experience could never fade.</p> - -<p>We had been walking for a couple of hours, much of the time in silence. -My own mind was busy with no train of thought in particular; rather I -was in a negative, receptive state, idly reviewing mental pictures, -and my companion’s presence obtruded so little that I sometimes almost -forgot he was beside me. On the Pentlands we followed the sheep tracks -carelessly where they led, and presently lay down among the heather -of the higher slopes to rest. Julius flung himself down first, and, -pleasantly tired, I imitated him at once. In the distance lay the -mosaic of Edinburgh town, her spires rising out of haze and mist. -Across the uninspiring strip of modern houses called the Morningside, -the Castle Rock stood on its blunt pedestal, carved out by the drive of -ancient glaciers. At the end of the small green valley where immense -ice-chisels once had ploughed their way, we saw the Calton Hill; beyond -it, again, the line of Princes Street with its stream of busy humanity; -and further still, the lovely dip over the crest of the hill where the -Northern ocean lay towards the Bass Rock and the sea-birds.</p> - -<p>The autumn air drew cool and scented along the heathery ridges, and -while Julius lay gazing at the cirrus clouds, I propped myself upon one -elbow and enjoyed the scene below. It was my pleasure always to know a -thing by name and recognise it—the different churches, the prison, the -University buildings, the particular house where my own lodgings were; -and I was searching for Frederick Street, trying to pick out the actual -corner where George Street cut through it, when I became aware that, -across the great dip of intervening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> valley, something equally saw me. -This was my first impression—that something watched me.</p> - -<p>I placed it, naturally enough, where my thought was fixed, across -the dip; but the same instant I realised my mistake. It was much -nearer—close beside me. Something was watching us intently. We were -no longer quite alone. And, with the discovery, there grew gradually -about me a sense of indescribable loveliness, a soft and tender beauty -impossible to define precisely. It came like one of those enveloping -moods of childhood, when everything is alive and anything may happen. -My heart, it seemed, expanded. It turned wild.</p> - -<p>I looked round at Julius. He still lay on his back as before, with the -difference that his hands now were folded across his eyes and that his -body was motionless and rigid as a log. He hardly breathed. He seemed -part and parcel of the earth, merged in the hill-side as naturally as -the heather.</p> - -<p>Yet something had happened, or was in the act of happening, to him. The -forgotten schoolday atmosphere of Other Places stole over me as I gazed.</p> - -<p>I made no sound; I did not speak; my eyes passed quickly from the -panorama of town and sea to a flock of mountain sheep that nibbled -the patches of coarse grass not far away. The feeling that something -invisible yet conscious approached us from the empty spaces of the -afternoon became a certainty. My spirit lifted. There was a new and -vital relationship between my inner nature, so to speak, and my -material environment. My nerves were quivering, the sense of beauty -remained, but my questioning wonder changed to awe. Somewhere about me -on that bare hill-side Nature had become aggressively alive.</p> - -<p>Yet no one of my senses in particular conveyed the great impression; -it seemed wrought of them all in combination—a large, synthetic, -universal report sent forth by the natural things about me. Some -flooding energy, like a tide of unknown power, rose through my body. -But my brain was clear. One by one I ticked off the different senses; -it was neither sight, smell, touch,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> nor hearing that was individually -affected. There was vague uneasiness, it seems, as well, for I sought -instinctively what was of commonplace import in the landscape. I stared -at the group of nibbling sheep. My sight wandered to the larches on -my right, some thirty yards away. Next, seeking things more humanly -comforting still, I fixed my gaze upon my nailed and muddy boots.</p> - -<p>At the same moment Julius became suddenly alert. He sat erect.</p> - -<p>The change in his attitude startled me; he seemed intent upon something -in the nearer landscape that escaped me. He, like myself, was aware -that other life approached; he shared my strange emotion of delight -and power; but in him was no uneasiness, for whereas I questioned -nervously, he <em>knew</em> with joy. Yet he was doing nothing definite, so -far as I could see. The change of attitude resulted in no act. His -face, however, was so intense, so animated, that I understood it was -the touch of his mind that had reached my own so stimulatingly, and -that what was coming—came through him. His eyes were fixed, I saw, -upon the little grove of larches.</p> - -<p>I made no movement, but watched the larches and his face alternately. -And what I can only call the childhood mood of make-believe enormously -increased. It extended, however, far beyond the child’s domain; it -seemed all-potent, irresistibly imperative. By the mere effort of my -will I could—create. Some power in me hidden, lost, unused, seemed -trying to assert itself. I merely had to say “Let there be a ball -before me in the air,” and by the simple fiat of this power it must -appear. I had only to will the heather at my feet to move, and it must -move—as though, in the act of willing, some intense, intermolecular -energy were set free. There was almost the sense that I had this power -in me now—that I had certainly once known how to use it.</p> - -<p>I can hardly describe intelligently what followed. It is so easy to -persuade myself that I was dreaming or deceived, yet so difficult -to prove that I was neither one nor other, but keenly observant and -wholly master of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> my mind. For by this time it was clear to me that the -sensation of being watched, of knowing another living presence close, -as also of sharing this tender beauty, issued primarily from the grove -of larches. My being and their own enjoyed some inter-relationship, -exquisite yet natural. There was exchange between us. And the wind, -blowing stiffly up the heather slopes, then lifted the lower branches -of the trees, so that I saw deep within the little grove, yet at -the same time behind and beyond them. Something that their veil of -greenness draped went softly stirring. The same minute it came out -towards me with a motion best described as rushing. The heart of the -grove became instinct with life, life that I could appreciate and -understand, each individual tree contributing its thread to form the -composite whole, Julius and myself contributing as well. This Presence -swam out through the afternoon atmosphere towards us, whirring, almost -dancing, as it came. There was an impression of volume—of gigantic -energy. The air in our immediate neighbourhood became visible.</p> - -<p>Yet to say that I saw something seems as untrue as to say that I -saw nothing. Form was indistinguishable from movement. The air, the -larches and ourselves were marvellously entangled with the sunshine -and the landscape. I was aware of an intelligence different from my -own, immensely powerful, but somehow not a human intelligence. Superb, -unearthly beauty touched the very air.</p> - -<p>“Hush!” I heard LeVallon whisper. “Feel-with it, but do not think.”</p> - -<p>The advice was unnecessary. I felt; but I had no time to think, no -inclination either. A long-forgotten “I” was active. My familiar, daily -self shrank out of sight. Vibrant, sensitive, amazingly extended, my -being responded in an <em>immediate</em> fashion to things about me. Any -“thoughts” I had came afterwards.</p> - -<p>For the greenness whirled and flashed like sunlight upon water or on -fluttering silk. With an intricate and complex movement it appeared -to spin and revolve within itself; and I cannot dare to say from what -detail<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> came the absolute persuasion that it was alive in the same -sense that I myself and Julius were alive, while of another order of -intelligence.</p> - -<p>Julius rose suddenly to his feet, and a fear came over me that he was -going to touch it; for he moved forwards with an inviting gesture that -caused me an exhilarating distress as when a friend steps too near the -edge of a precipice. But the next moment I saw that he was directing it -rather, with the immediate result that it swerved sharply to one side, -passed with swiftness up the steep hill-side, and—disappeared. It -raced by me with a soft and roaring noise, leaving a marked disturbance -of the air that was like a wind within a wind. I seemed pushed aside -by the fringe of a small but violent whirlwind. The booming already -sounded some distance up the slope.</p> - -<p>“I’ve lost it!” I remember shouting with a pang of disappointment. For -it seemed that the power and delight in me both ebbed and that energy -went with them.</p> - -<p>“Because you thought a moment instead of felt!” cried Julius. He -turned, holding up one hand by way of warning. His voice was more than -ordinarily resonant, his whole body charged with force. “Now—watch the -sheep,” he added in a lower tone. And, although the words surprised me -in one way, in another I anticipated them. There passed across his face -a momentary expression of intense effort, but even before the sentence -was finished I heard the rushing of the frightened animals, and -understood something of what was happening. There was panic in them. -The entire flock ran headlong down the steep slope of heather. The -thunder of their feet is in my ears to-day. I see their heaving backs -of dirty wool climbing in tumbling fashion one upon another as they -pressed tightly in a wedge-shaped outline. They plunged frantically -together down the steep place to some level turf below. But, even then, -I think they would not have stopped, had not a sound, half cry, half -word of command, from my companion brought them to a sudden halt again. -They paused in their wild descent. Like a single animal the entire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> -company of them—twenty or thirty, perhaps, all told—were arrested. -They looked stupidly about them, turned their heads in the opposite -direction, and with one accord began once more peacefully—eating grass.</p> - -<p>The incident had occupied, perhaps, three minutes.</p> - -<p>“The larches!” I heard, and the same instant that softly-roaring thing, -not wind, yet carried inside the wind, again raced past me, going this -time in the direction of the grove. There was just time to turn, when -I heard a clap—not unlike the sound of an open hand that strikes a -pillow, though on a far vaster scale—and it seemed to me that the -bodies of the trees trembled for a moment where they melted into one -another amid the general greenness of stems and branches.</p> - -<p>For the fraction of a second they shone and pulsed and quivered. -Something opened; something closed again. The enthralling sense of -beauty left my heart, the power sank away, the huge energy retired. -And, in a flash, all was normal once again; it was a cool October -afternoon upon the Pentland Hills, and a wind was blowing freshly from -the distant sea.</p> - -<p>I was lying on the grass again exactly as before; Julius, watching me -keenly beneath the lids of his narrowed eyes, had just flung himself -down to keep me company....</p> - -<p>“The barriers, you see, are thin,” he said quietly. “There really are -no barriers at all.”</p> - -<p>This was the first sentence I heard, though his voice, it seemed, had -been speaking for some considerable time. I had closed my eyes—to -shut out a rising tide of wonderful and familiar pictures whose beauty -somehow I sought vigorously to deny. Yet there was this flare of vivid -memory: a penetrating odour of acrid herbs that burned in the clearing -of a sombre forest; a low stone altar, the droning of men’s voices -chanting monotonously as they drew near in robes of white and yellow -... and I seemed aware of some forgotten but exquisite ceremonial by -means of which natural forces were drawn upon to benefit the beings of -the worshippers....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span></p> - -<p>“All is transmissible,” rose LeVallon’s voice out of the picture, “all -can be shared. That was the aim and meaning of our worship....”</p> - -<p>I opened my eyes and looked at him. The expansion of my consciousness -had been a genuine thing; the power and joy both real; the worship -authentic. Now they had left me and the shrinkage caused me pain; there -was a poignant sense of loss. I felt afraid again.</p> - -<p>“But it’s all gone,” I answered in a hushed tone, “and everything has -left me.” Reason began to argue and deny. I could scarcely retain the -memory of those big sensations which had offered a channel into an -extended world.</p> - -<p>Julius searched my face with his patient, inward-gazing eyes.</p> - -<p>“Your attitude prevented,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation; “it -became unsafe.”</p> - -<p>“You brought it?” I faltered.</p> - -<p>He nodded. “A human will,” he replied, “and a physical body—as -channel. Your resistance broke the rhythm and brought danger in.” And -after a pause he added significantly: “For the return—the animals -served well.” He smiled. “Ran down a steep place into the sea—almost.”</p> - -<p>And, abruptly then, the modern world came back, as though what I -had just experienced had been but some pictured memory, thrust up, -withdrawn. I was aware that my fellow student at Edinburgh University, -LeVallon by name, lay beside me in the heather, his face charged with -peace and happiness ... that the dusk was falling, and that the air was -turning chilly.</p> - -<p>Without further speech we rose and made our way down from the windy -ridge, and the chief change I noticed in myself seemed to be a marked -increase of vitality that was singularly exhilarating, yet included -the touch of awe already mentioned. The feeling was in me that life of -some non-human kind had approached us both. I looked about me, first at -Julius, then at the landscape, growing dim. The wind blew strongly from -the sea. Far in the distance rose the outline of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> Forth Bridge, -then a-building, its skeleton, red in the sunset, rearing across the -water like a huge sea-serpent with ribs of gleaming steel. I could -almost hear the hammering of the iron.... And, at our feet, the first -lights of the Old Town presently twinkled through the veil of dusk and -smoke that wove itself comfortingly about the habitations of men and -women.</p> - -<p>My thoughts were busy, but for a long time no speech passed. -Occasionally I stole glances at my companion as we plodded downwards -through the growing dusk, and there seemed a curious glow about his -face that made him more clearly visible than the other objects about -us. The way he looked back from time to time across his shoulder -increased my impression—by no means a pleasant one just then—that -something followed us from those heathery hill-tops, kept close behind -us through the muddy lanes, and watched our movements across the fields -and hedges.</p> - -<p>I have never forgotten that walk home in the autumn twilight, nor -the sense of haunting possibilities that hung about it like an -atmosphere—the feeling that other life loomed close upon our steps. -Before Roslin Chapel was passed, and the welcome lights of the town -were near, this consciousness of a ghostly following suite became -a certainty, and I felt that every copse and field sent out some -messenger to swell the throng. We had established touch with another -region of life, of power, and the link was not yet fully broken.</p> - -<p>And the sentences Julius let fall from time to time, half to himself -and half to me, increased my nervousness instead of soothing it.</p> - -<p>“The gods, you see, are not dead,” he said, waving his hand towards -the hills, “but only distant. They are still accessible to all who can -feel-with their powers. In your self-consciousness a door stands open; -they can be approached—through Nature. Ages ago, when the sun was -younger, and you and I were nearer to the primitive beauty ...”</p> - -<p>A cat, darting silently across the road like a shadow from a cottage -door, gave me such a start that I lost the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> remainder of the sentence. -His arm was linked in mine as he added softly:</p> - -<p>“... Only, what is borrowed in this way must always be returned, for -otherwise the equilibrium is destroyed, and the borrower suffers -until he puts it right again. So utterly exact is the balance of the -universe....”</p> - -<p>I deliberately turned my head away, aware that something in me <em>would</em> -not listen. The conviction grew that he had a motive in the entire -business. That inner secret dread revived. Yet, in spite of it, there -was a curiosity that refused to let me escape altogether. It was bound -to satisfy itself. The question seemed to force itself out of my lips:</p> - -<p>“They are unconscious, though, these Powers?” And, having asked it, -I would willingly have blotted out the words. I heard his low voice -answer so far away it seemed an echo from the hills behind us.</p> - -<p>“Of a different order,” he replied, “until they are part of you; and -then they share <em>your</em> consciousness....”</p> - -<p>“Hostile or friendly?” I believed I thought this question only, but -apparently I spoke it out aloud. Julius paused a moment. Then he said -briefly:</p> - -<p>“Neither one nor other, of themselves. Merely that they resent an order -being placed upon them. It involves mastery or destruction.”</p> - -<p>The words sank into me with something like a shudder. It seemed that -everything I asked and everything he answered were as familiar as -though we spoke of some lecture of the day before. What I had witnessed -shared this familiarity, too, though more faintly. All belonged to this -incalculable past he for ever searched to bring to light. Yet of what -dim act of mine, of his, or of another working with us, this mysterious -shudder was born, I still remained in ignorance, though an ignorance -that seemed now slowly about to lift.</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, the final question was out before I could prevent it. -It came irresistibly:</p> - -<p>“And if, instead of animals, it had been men...?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span></p> - -<p>The effect was instantaneous, and very curious. I could have sworn he -had been waiting for that question. For he turned upon me with passion -that shone a moment in his pale and eager face, then died away as -swiftly as it came. His hand tightened upon my arm; he drew me closer. -He bent down. I saw his eyes gleam in the darkness as he whispered:</p> - -<p>“Such men would know themselves cut off from their own kind, a gulf -between humanity—and themselves. For the elemental powers may be -borrowed, but not kept. There would burn in them fires no human hands -could quench, because no human hands had lit them. Yet their vast -energies might lift our little self-seeking race into that grander -universal life where——”</p> - -<p>He stopped dead in the darkened road and fixed me with his eyes. He -said the next words with a vehement conviction that struck cold into my -very entrails:</p> - -<p>“He who retains within himself the elemental powers which are the -deities in Nature, is both above and below his kind.”</p> - -<p>A moment he hid his face in his hands; then, opening his arms wide -and throwing his head back to the sky, he raised his voice; he almost -cried aloud: “A man who has worshipped the Powers of Wind and the -Powers of Fire, and has retained them in himself, keeping them out of -their appointed places, is born of them. He is become their child. He -is a son of Wind and Fire. And though he break and flame with energies -that could regenerate the world, he must remain alien and outcast -from humanity, untouched by love or sorrow, stranger to joy, aloof, -impersonal, until by full and complete restitution, he restore the -balance in the surrender of his stolen powers.”</p> - -<p>It seemed to me he towered; that his stature grew; that the darkness -round his very head turned bright; and that a wind from nowhere went -driving down the sky behind him with a wailing violence. The amazing -outburst took me off my feet by its suddenness. An emotion from the -depths rose up and shook me. What happened next I hardly realised, only -that he caught my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> arm and hurried along the road at a reckless, half -stumbling speed, and that the lonely hills behind us followed in the -darkness....</p> - -<p>A few moments afterwards we found ourselves among the busy lights and -traffic of the streets. His calm had returned as suddenly as it had -deserted him. Such moments with him were so rare, he seemed almost -unnatural, superhuman. And presently we separated at the corner of the -North Bridge, going home to our respective rooms. He made no single -reference to the storm that had come upon him in this extraordinary -manner; I likewise spoke no word. We said good night. He turned one -way, I another. But, as I went, his burning sentences still haunted -me; I saw his face like moonlight through the tangle of a wood; and I -<em>knew</em> that all we had seen and heard and spoken that afternoon had -reference to a past that we had shared, yet also to a future, which he -and I awaited together for the coming of -a—<a name="stop" id="stop"></a><ins title="Original omitted the fullstop">third.</ins></p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> -<h3><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<em>Strange as it may appear to the modern mind, whose one -ambition is to harden and formalise itself ... the ancient mind -conceived of knowledge in a totally different fashion. It did -not crystallise itself into a hardened point, but, remaining -fluid, knew that the mode of knowledge suitable to its nature -was by intercourse and blending. Its experience was ... that -it could blend with intelligence greater than itself, that -it could have intercourse with the gods.</em>”—“Some Mystical -Adventures” (G. R. S. Mead).</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">An</span> inevitable result of this experience was that, for me, a reaction -followed. I had no stomach for such adventures. Though carried away at -the moment by the enthralling character of the feelings roused that -afternoon, my normal self, my upper self as I had come to call it, -protested—with the result that I avoided Julius. I changed my seat in -the class-rooms, giving as excuse that I could not hear the lecturer; -I gave up attending post-mortems and operations where I knew that he -would be; and if I saw him in the street I would turn aside or dive -into some shop until the danger of our meeting passed. Ashamed of my -feebleness, I yet could not bring myself to face him and thrash the -matter out.</p> - -<p>Other influences also were at work, for my father, it so happened, and -the girl I was engaged to marry, her family too, were all of them in -Edinburgh just about that time, and some instinct warned me that they -and LeVallon must not meet. In the latter case particularly I obeyed -this warning instinct, for in the influence of Julius there hid some -strain of opposition towards these natural affections. I was aware of -it unconsciously, perhaps. It seemed he made me question the reality of -my love; made me doubt and hesitate; sometimes almost made me challenge -the value of these ties that meant so much to me. From his point of -view, I knew, these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> emotions belonged to transient relationships -of one brief section, and to become centred in them involved the -obliteration of the larger view. His attitude was more impersonal: Love -everyone, but do not lose perspective by focusing your entire self in -one or two. It was <em>au fond</em> a selfish pleasure merely; it delayed the -development of the permanent personality; it destroyed—more important -still—the sense of kinship with the universe which was the basic -principle with him. It need not: but it generally did.</p> - -<p>For some weeks, therefore, our talks and walks were interrupted; I -devoted myself to work, to intercourse with those I loved, and led -generally the normal existence of a university student who was reading -for examinations that were of importance to his future career in life.</p> - -<p>Yet, though we rarely met, and certainly held no converse for some -time, interruption actually there was none at all. To pretend it were a -farce. The inner relationship continued as before. Physical separation -meant absolutely nothing in those ties that so strangely and so -intimately knit our deeper lives together. There was no more question -of break between us than there is question of a break in time when -light is extinguished and the clock becomes invisible. His presence -always stood beside me; the beauty of his pale, un-English face kept -ever in my thoughts; I heard his whisper in my dreams at night, and the -ideas his curious language watered continued growing with a strength I -could not question.</p> - -<p>There were two selves in me then as in our schooldays: one that -resisted, and one that yearned. When together, it was the former that -asserted its rights, but when apart, oddly enough, it was the latter. -There is little question, however, that the latter was the stronger of -the two. Thus, the moment I found myself alone again, my father and my -fiancée both gone, we rushed together like two ends of an elastic that -had been stretched too long apart.</p> - -<p>And almost immediately, as though the opportunity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> must not be lost, he -spoke to me of an experiment he had in view.</p> - -<p>By what network of persuasiveness he induced me to witness, if not -actually to co-operate in, this experiment, I cannot pretend at this -distance to remember. I think it is true that he used no persuasion -at all, but that at the first mention of it my deeper being met the -proposal with curious sympathy. At the horror and audacity my upper -self shrank back aghast; the thing seemed wholly impermissible and -dreadful; something unholy, as of blasphemy, lay in it too. But, as -usual, when this mysterious question of “Other Places” was involved, -in the end I followed blindly where he led. My older being held the -casting vote. And the reason—I admit it frankly—was that somewhere -behind the amazing glamour of it all lay—truth. While reason scoffed, -my heart remembered and believed.</p> - -<p>Moreover, in this particular instance, a biting curiosity had its -influence too. I was wholly sceptical of results. The thing was mad, -incredible, even wicked. It could never happen. Yet, while I said these -words, and more besides, there ran a haunting terror in me underground -that, after all ... that possibly ... I cannot even set down in words -the nature of my doubt. I can merely affirm that something in me was -not absolutely sure.</p> - -<p>“The essential thing,” he told me, “is to find an empty ‘instrument’ -that is in perfect order—young, vigorous, the tissues unwasted by -decay or illness. There must have been no serious deterioration of the -organs, muscles, and so forth.”</p> - -<p>I knew then that this new experiment was akin to that other I had -already witnessed. The experience on the Pentlands had also been -deliberately brought about. The only difference was that this second -one he announced beforehand. Further, it was of a higher grade. The -channel of evocation, instead of being in the vegetable kingdom, was in -the human.</p> - -<p>I understood his meaning, and suggested that someone in deep trance -might meet the conditions, for in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> trance he held that the occupant, or -soul, was gone elsewhere, the tenement of flesh deserted.</p> - -<p>But he shook his head. That was not, he said, legitimate. The owner -would return. He watched me with a curious smile as he said this. I -knew then that he referred to the final emptiness of a vacated body.</p> - -<p>“Sudden death,” I said, while his eyes flashed back the answer. “And -the Elemental Powers?” I asked quickly.</p> - -<p>“Wind and fire,” he replied. And in order to carry his plan into -execution he proposed to avail himself of his free access to the -students’ Dissecting Room.</p> - -<p>During the longish interval between the conception and carrying out -of this preposterous experiment I shifted like a weathercock between -acceptance and refusal. My doubts were torturing. There were times -when I treated it as the proposal of a lunatic that at worst could -work no injury to anyone concerned. But there were also times when a -certain familiar reality clothed it with a portentous actuality. I was -reminded faintly of something similar I had been connected with before. -Dim figures of this lost familiarity stalked occasionally across the -field of inner sight. Julius and I had done this thing together long, -long ago, “when the sun was younger,” and when we were “nearer to the -primitive beauty,” as he phrased it. In reverie, in dreams, in moments -when thinking was in abeyance, this odd conviction asserted itself. -It had to do with a Memory of some worship that once was mighty and -effective; when august Presences walked the earth in stupendous images -of power; and traffic with them had been useful, possible. The barrier -between the human and the non-human, between Man and Nature, was not -built. Wind and fire! It was always wind and fire that he spoke of. And -I remember one vivid and terrific dream in particular in which I heard -again a voice pronounce that curious name of “Concerighé,” and, though -the details were blurred on waking, I clearly grasped that certain -elemental powers had been evoked by us for purposes of our own and had -not been suffered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> to return to their appointed places; further, that -concerned with us in the awful and solemn traffic was—another. We had -been three.</p> - -<p>This dream, of course, I easily explained as due directly to my -talks with Julius, but my dread was not so easily dismissed, and -that I overcame it finally and consented to attend was due partly to -the extraordinary curiosity I felt, and partly to this inexplicable -attraction in my deeper self which urged me to see the matter through. -Something inevitable about it forced me. Yet, but for the settled -conviction that behind the abhorrent proposal lay some earnest purpose -of LeVallon’s, not ignoble in itself, I should certainly have refused. -For, though saying little, and not taking me fully into his confidence, -he did manage to convey the assurance that this thing was not to -be carried out as an end, but as a means to an end, in itself both -legitimate and necessary. It was, I gathered, a kind of preliminary -trial—an attempt that <em>might</em> possibly succeed, even without the -presence of the third.</p> - -<p>“Sooner or later,” he said, aware that I hesitated, “it must be faced. -Here is an opportunity for us, at least. If we succeed, there is no -need to wait for—another. It is a question. We can but try.”</p> - -<p>And try accordingly we did.</p> - -<p>The occasion I shall never forget—a still, cold winter’s night towards -the middle of December, most of the students already gone down for -Christmas, and small chance of the room being occupied. For even in -the busiest time before examinations there were few men who cared to -avail themselves of the gruesome privilege of night-work, for which -special permission, too, was necessary. Julius, in any case, made his -preparations well, and the janitor of the grey-stone building on the -hill, whose top floor was consecrated to this grisly study of life in -death, had surrendered the keys even before we separated earlier in the -evening for supper at the door of the post-mortem theatre.</p> - -<p>“Upstairs at eleven o’clock,” he whispered, “and if I’m late—the -preparations may detain me—go inside and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> wait. Your presence is -necessary to success.” He laid his hand on my shoulder; he looked at -me searchingly a moment, almost beseechingly, as though he detected -the strain of opposition in me. “And be as sympathetic as you can,” he -begged. “At least, do not actively oppose.” Then, as he turned away, -“I’ll try to be punctual,” he added, smiling, “but—well, you know as -well as I do——!” He shrugged his shoulders and was gone.</p> - -<p><em>You know!</em> Somehow or other it was true: I did know. The interval of -several hours he would spend in his inner chamber concentrated upon -the process of feeling-with—evoking. He would have no food, no rest, -no moment’s pause. At the appointed hour he would arrive, charged with -the essential qualities of these two elemental powers which in dim past -ages, summoned by another audacious “experiment” from their rightful -homes, he now sought to “restore.” He would seek to return what had -been “borrowed.” He would attempt to banish them again. For they could -only be thus banished, as they had been summoned—through the channel -of a human organism. They were of a loftier order, then, than the -Powers for whose return the animal organisms of the sheep had served.</p> - -<p>I went my way down Frederick Street with a heart, I swear, already -palpitating.</p> - -<p>Of the many thrilling experiences that grew out of my acquaintance -with this extraordinary being, I think that night remains -supreme—certainly, until our paths met again in the Jura Mountains. -But, strangest of all, is the fact that throughout the ghastly horror -of what occurred was—beauty! To convey this beauty is beyond any -power that I possess, yet it was there, a superb and awful beauty that -informed the meanest detail of what I witnessed. The experiment failed -of course; in the accomplishment of LeVallon’s ultimate purpose, that -is, it failed; but the failure was due, apparently, to one cause alone: -that the woman was not present.</p> - -<p>It is most difficult to describe, and my pen, indeed, shrinks from -setting down so revolting a performance. Yet this curious high beauty -redeems it in my memory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> as I now recall the adventure through the -haze of years, and I believe the beauty was due to a deeper fact -impossible to convey in words. Behind the little “modern” experiment, -and parallel to it, ran another, older Memory that was fraught with -some significance of eternity. This parent memory penetrated and -overshadowed the smaller copy of it; it exalted what was ugly, uplifted -what seemed abominable, sublimated the distressing failure into an -image of what might have been magnificent. I mean, in a word, that -this experiment was a poor attempt to reconstruct an older ritual of -spiritual significance whereby those natural forces, once worshipped as -the gods, might combine with qualities similar to their own in human -beings. The memory of a more august and effective ceremony moved all -the time behind the little reconstruction. The beauty was derived from -my dim recollection of some transcendent but now forgotten worship.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At the appointed hour I made my way across the Bridge and towards the -Old Town where the University buildings stood. It was, as I said, a -bitter night. The Castle Rock and Cathedral swam in a flood of silvery -moonlight; frost sparkled on the roofs; the spires of Edinburgh shone -in the crystal wintry atmosphere. The air, so keen, was windless. -Few people were about at this late hour, and I had the feeling that -the occasional pedestrians, hurrying homewards in tightly-buttoned -overcoats, eyed me askance. No one of them was going in the same -direction as myself. They questioned my purpose, looked sharply over -their shoulders, then quickened their pace away from me towards the -houses where the fires burned in cosy human sitting-rooms.</p> - -<p>At the door of the great square building itself I hesitated a moment, -hiding in the shadow of the overhanging roof. It was easy to pretend -that moral disapproval warned me to turn back, but the simpler truth is -that I was afraid. At the best of times the Dissecting Room, with its -silent cargo of dreadful forms and faces, was a chamber of horrors I -could never become hardened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> to as the majority of students did; but on -this occasion, when a theory concerning life alien to humanity was to -be put to so strange a test, I confess that the prospect set my nerves -a-quivering and made the muscles of my legs turn weak. A cold sensation -ran down my spine, and it was not the wintry night alone that caused it.</p> - -<p>Opening the heavy door with an effort, I went in and waited a moment -till the clanging echo had subsided through the deserted building. My -imagination figured the footsteps of a crowd hurrying away behind the -sound down the long stone corridors. In the silence that followed I -slowly began climbing the steps of granite, hoping devoutly that Julius -would be waiting for me at the top. I was a little late; he might -possibly have arrived before me. Up the four flights of stairs I went -stealthily, trying to muffle my footsteps, putting my weight heavily -upon the balustrade, and doing all I could to make no sound at all. For -it seemed to me that my movements were both watched and heard, and that -those motionless, silent forms above were listening for my approach, -and knew that I was coming.</p> - -<p>On the landings at each turn lay a broad sweet patch of moonlight that -fell through the lofty windows, and but for these the darkness would -have been complete. No light, it seemed to me, had ever looked more -clean and pure and welcome. I thought of the lone Pentland ridges, -and of the sea, lying calm and still outside beneath the same sheet -of silver, the air of night all keen and fragrant. The heather slopes -came back to me, the larches and the flock of nibbling sheep. I thought -of these in detail, of my fire-lit rooms in Frederick Street, of the -vicarage garden at home in Kent where my boyhood had been spent; I -thought of a good many things, truth to tell, all of them as remote as -possible from my present surroundings; but when I eventually reached -the topmost landing and found LeVallon was not there, I thought of one -thing only—that I was alone. Just beyond me, through that door of -frosted glass, lay in its most loathsome form the remnant of humanity -left behind by death.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span></p> - -<p>In the daytime, when noisy students, callous and unimaginative, -thronged the room, the horror of it retreated, modified by the vigorous -vitality of these doctors of the future; but now at night, amid the -ominous silence, with darkness over the town and the cold of outer -space dropping down upon the world, as though linking forces with that -other final cold within the solemn chamber, it seemed quite otherwise. -I stood shivering and afraid upon the landing, angry that I could have -lent myself to so preposterous and abominable a scheme, yet determined, -so long as my will held firm, to go through with it to the end.</p> - -<p>He had asked me to wait for him—inside.</p> - -<p>Knowing that every minute of hesitation must weaken my powers of -resolve, I moved at once towards the door, then paused again. The -comforting roar of the traffic floated to my ears; I heard the distant -tinkle of a tramcar bell, the boom of Edinburgh, a confused noise -of feet and wheels and voices, far away, it is true, but distinctly -reassuring.</p> - -<p>Outside, the life of humanity rolled upon its accustomed way, recking -little of the trembling figure that stood on the top floor of this -silent building, one hand on the door upon whose further side so many -must one day come to final rest. For one hand already touched the -freezing knob, and I was in the act of turning it when another sound, -that was certainly not the murmur of the town, struck sharply through -the stillness and brought all movement in me to a sudden halt.</p> - -<p>It came from within, I thought at first; and it was like a wave of -sighs that rose and fell, sweeping against the glass door a moment, -then passing away as abruptly as it came. Yet it was more like wind -than sighs through human lips, and immediately, then, I understood that -it <em>was</em> wind. I caught my breath again with keen relief. Wind was -rising from the hills, and this was its first messenger running down -among the roofs and chimney-pots. I heard its wailing echoes long after -it had died away.</p> - -<p>But a moment later it returned, louder and stronger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> than before, -and this time, hearing it so close, I know not what secret embassies -of wonder touched me from the night outside, deposited their -undecipherable messages, and were gone again. I can only say that the -key of my emotions changed, changed, moreover, with a swelling rush -as when the heavier stops are pulled out upon an organ-board. For, on -entering the building, the sky had been serenely calm, and keen frost -locked the currents of the air; whereas now that wind went wailing -round the walls as though it sought an entrance, almost as though its -crying voice veiled purpose. There seemed a note of menace, eager and -peremptory, in its sudden rush and drop. It knocked upon the stones -and upon the roof above my head with curious and repeated buffets of -sound that resembled the “clap” I had heard that October afternoon -among the larches, only a hundred times repeated and a hundred-fold -increased. The change in myself, moreover, was similar to the change -then experienced—the flow and drive of bigger consciousness that -helped to banish fear. I seemed to know about that wind, to feel its -life and being, indeed, to share it. No longer was I merely John Mason, -a student in Edinburgh, separate and distinct from all about me, but -was—I realised it amazingly—a bit of life in the universe, not -isolated even from the wind.</p> - -<p>The beauty of the sensation did not last; it passed through me, -linked to that insistent roar; but the fact that I had felt it gave -me courage. The stops were instantly pushed in again ... and the same -minute the swing-door closed behind me with a sullen thud.</p> - -<p>I stood within the chamber; Julius, I saw in a moment, was not there. -I moved through the long, narrow room, keeping close beside the wall, -taking up my position finally about halfway down, where I could command -the six tall windows and the door. The moon was already too high to -send her rays directly through the panes, but from the extensive -sky-lights she shed a diffused, pale glow upon the scene, and my eyes, -soon accustomed to the semi-darkness, saw everything quite as clearly -as I cared about.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span></p> - -<p>In front of me stretched the silent, crowded room, patchy in the -moonshine, but with shadows deeply gathered in the corners; and, row -after row upon the white marble slabs, lay the tenantless forms in -the grotesque, unnatural positions as the students had left them a -few hours before. The picture does not invite detailed description, -but I at once experienced the peculiar illusion that attacks new -students even in the daytime. It seemed that the sightless eyes turned -slowly round to stare at me, that the shrunken lips half opened as -in soundless speech, and that the heads with one accord shifted to -an angle whence they could observe and watch me better. There went a -rustling through that valley of dry bones as though life returned for a -moment to drive the broken machinery afresh.</p> - -<p>This sensible illusion was, of course, one I could easily dismiss. -More difficult, however, was the subtler attack that came upon me from -behind the sensory impressions. For, while I stood with my back against -the wall, listening intently for LeVallon’s step upon the stairs, I -could not keep from my mind the terror of those huddled sheep upon the -Pentland ridges; the whole weird force of his theories about “life” in -Nature came beating against my mind, aided, moreover, by some sympathy -in myself that could never wholly ridicule their possible truth.</p> - -<p>I gazed round me at the motionless, discarded forms, used for one -brief “section,” then cast aside, and as I did so my mind naturally -focused itself upon a point of dreadful and absorbing interest—which -one was to be the subject of the experiment? So short a time ago had -each been a nest of keenest activity and emotion, enabling its occupant -to reap its harvest of past actions while sowing that which it must -reap later again in its new body, already perhaps now a-forming. And -of these discarded vehicles, one was to be the channel through which -two elemental Powers, evoked in vanished ages, might return to their -appointed place. I heard that clamouring wind against the outer walls; -I felt within me the warmth of a strange enthusiasm rise and glow;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> -and it seemed to me just then that the whole proposal was as true and -simple and in the natural order of things as birth or death, or any -normal phenomenon to the terror and glory of which mankind has grown -accustomed through prolonged familiarity. To this point, apparently, -had the change in my feelings brought me. The dreadful novelty had -largely gone. Something would happen, nor would it be entirely -unfamiliar.</p> - -<p>Then, on a marble slab beside the door, the body of a boy, fresh, -white and sweet, and obviously brought in that very day, since it was -as yet untouched by knife or scalpel, “drew” my attention of its own -accord—and I knew at once that I had found it.</p> - -<p>Oddly enough, the discovery brought no increase of fearful thrill; it -was as natural as though I had helped to place it there myself. And, -again, for some reason, that delightful sense of power swept me; my -diminutive modern self slipped off to hide; I remembered that a million -suns surrounded me; that the earth was but an insignificant member of -one of the lesser systems; that man’s vaunted Reason was as naught -compared to the oceans of what might be known and possible; and that -this body I wore and used, like that white, empty one upon the slab, -was but a transient vehicle through which <em>I</em>, as a living part of the -stupendous cosmos, acted out my little piece of development in the -course of an eternal journey. This wind, this fire, that Julius spoke -of, were equally the vehicles of other energies, alive as myself, only -less tamed and cabined, yet similarly obedient, again, to the laws -of their own beings. The extraordinary mood poured through me like a -flood—and once more passed away. And the wind fled singing round the -building with a shout.</p> - -<p>I looked steadily at the beautiful but vacated framework that the soul -had used—used well or ill I knew not—lying there so quietly, so -calmly, the smooth skin as yet untouched by knife, unmarred by needle, -surrounded on all sides by the ugly and misshapen crew of older death; -and as I looked, I thought of some fair shell the tide had left among -the seaweed wrack,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> a flower of beauty shining ’mid decay. In the -moonlight I could plainly see the thin and wasted ribs, the fixed blue -eyes still staring as in life, the lank and tangled hair, the listless -fingers that a few hours before must have been active in the flush of -health, and passionately loved by more than one assuredly. For, though -I knew not the manner of the soul’s out-passing, this boy must have -suddenly met death that very day. And I found it odd that he should now -be lying here, since usually the students’ work is concerned to study -the processes of illness and decay. It confirmed my certainty that here -was the channel LeVallon meant to use.</p> - -<p>Time for longer reflection, however, there was none, for just then -another gust of this newly-risen wind fell against the building with a -breaking roar, and at the same moment the swing door opened and Julius -LeVallon stood within the room.</p> - -<p>Whether windows had burst, or the great skylights overhead been left -unfastened, I had no time, nor inclination either, to discover, but -I remember that the wind tore past him down the entire length of the -high-ceilinged chamber, tossing the hair uncannily upon a dozen heads -in front of me and even stirring the dust about my feet. It was almost -as though we stood upon an open plain and met the unobstructed tempest -in our teeth.</p> - -<p>Yet the rush and vehemence with which he entered startled me, for I -found myself glad of the support which a high student’s stool afforded. -I leaned against it heavily, while Julius, after standing by the door a -moment, turned immediately then to the left. He knew exactly where to -look. Simultaneously, he saw me too.</p> - -<p>Our eyes, in that atmosphere of shadow and soft moonlight, met also -across centuries. He spoke my name; but it was no name I answered to -To-day.</p> - -<p>“Come, Silvatela,” he said, “lend me your will and sympathy. Feel now -with Wind and Fire. For both are here, and the time is favourable. At -last, I shall perhaps return what has been borrowed.” He beckoned me -with a gesture of strange dignity. “It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> is not that time of balanced -forces we most desire—the Equinox—but it is the winter solstice,” he -went on, “when the sun is nearest. That, too, is favourable. We <em>may</em> -transcend the appointed boundaries. Across the desert comes the leaping -wind. Both heat and air are with us. Come!”</p> - -<p>And, having vaguely looked for some kind of elaborate preparation -or parade, this sudden summons took me by surprise a little, though -the language somehow did not startle me. I sprang up; the stool fell -sideways, then clattered noisily upon the concrete floor. I made my -way quickly between the peering faces. It seemed no longer strange, -this abrupt disturbance of two familiar elements, nor did I remark -with unusual curiosity that the wind went rushing and crying about the -room, while the heat grew steadily within me so that my actual skin was -drenched with perspiration. All came about, indeed, quickly, naturally, -and without any pomp of dreadful ceremonial as I had expected. Julius -had come with power in his hands; and preparation, if any, had already -taken place elsewhere. He spoke no further word as I approached, but -bent low over the thin, white form, his face pale, stern and beautiful -as I had never seen it before. I thought of a star that entered the -roof of those Temple Memories, falling beneficently upon the great -concave mirrors where the incense rose in a column of blue smoke. -His entire personality, when at length I stood beside him, radiated -an atmosphere of force as though charged with some kind of elemental -activity that was intense and inexhaustible. The wonder and beauty -of it swept me from head to foot. The air grew marvellously heated. -It rose in beating waves that accompanied the rushing wind, like a -furnace driven by some powerful, artificial draught; in his immediate -neighbourhood it whirled and roared. It drew me closer. I, too, found -myself bending down above the motionless, stretched form, oblivious of -the other crowded slabs about us.</p> - -<p>So familiar it all seemed suddenly. Some such scene I had witnessed -surely many a time elsewhere. I knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> it all before. Upon success hung -issues of paramount importance to his soul, to mine, to the soul of -another who, for some reason unexplained, was not present with us, and, -somehow, also, to the entire universe of which we formed, with these -two elements, a living, integral portion. A weight of solemn drama lay -behind our little show. It seemed to me the universe looked on and -waited. The issue was of cosmic meaning.</p> - -<p>Then, as I entered the sphere of LeVallon’s personality, a touch of -dizziness caught me for an instant, as though this running wind, this -accumulating heat, emanated directly from his very being; and, before -I quite recovered myself, the moonlight was extinguished like a lamp -blown out. Across the sky, apparently, rushed clouds that changed the -spreading skylights into thick curtains, while into the room of death -came a blast of storm that I thought must tear the windows from their -very sockets in the stone. And with the wind came also a yet further -increase of heat that was like a touch of naked fire on some inner -membrane.</p> - -<p>I dare not assert that I was wholly master of myself throughout the -swift, dramatic scene that followed in darkness and in tumult, nor can -I claim that what I witnessed in the gloom, shot with occasional gleams -of moonlight here and there, was more than the intense visualisation -of an over-wrought imagination. It well may be that what I expected to -happen dramatised itself as though it actually did occur. I can merely -state that, at the moment, it seemed real and natural, and that what I -saw was the opening scene in a ceremony as familiar to me as the Litany -in my father’s church.</p> - -<p>For, with the pouring through the room of these twin energies of -wind and fire, I saw, sketched in the dim obscurity, one definite -movement—as the body of the boy rose up into a sitting posture close -before our faces. It instantly then sank back again, recumbent as -before upon the marble slab. The upright movement was repeated the same -second, and once more there came the sinking back. There were several -successive efforts before the upright position was maintained; and -each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> time it rose slowly, gradually, all of one piece and rigidly, -until finally these tentative movements achieved their object—and the -boy sat up as though about to stand. Erect before us, the head slightly -hanging on one side, the shoulders squared, the chest expanded as with -lung-drawn air, he rose steadily above his motionless companions all -around.</p> - -<p>And Julius drew back a pace. He made certain gestures with his arms -and hands that in some incalculable manner laid control upon the -movements. I saw his face an instant as the moon fell on it, pale, -glorious and stately, wearing a glow that was <em>not</em> moonlight, the lips -compressed with effort, the eyes ablaze. He looked to me unearthly and -magnificent. His stature seemed increased. There was an air of power, -of majesty about him that made his presence beautiful beyond words; and -yet, most strange of all, it was familiar to me, even this. I had seen -it all before. I knew well what was about to happen.</p> - -<p>His gesture changed. No word was spoken. It was a Ceremony in which -gesture was more significant than speech. There was evidence of -intense internal struggle that yet did not include the ugliness of -strain. He put forth all his power merely—and the body rose by jerks. -Spasmodically, this time, as though pulled by wires, yet with a kind -of terrible violence, it floated from that marble slab into the air. -With a series of quick, curious movements, half plunge, half jerk, -it touched the floor. It stood stiffly upright on its feet. It rose -again, it turned, it twisted, moving arms and legs and head, passing me -unsupported through the atmosphere some four feet from the ground. The -wind rushed round it with a roar; the fire, though invisible, scorched -my eyes. This way and that, now up, now down, the body of this boy -danced to and fro before me, silent always, the blue eyes fixed, the -lips half parted, more with the semblance of some awful marionette than -with human movement, yet charged with a colossal potency that drove -it hither and thither. Like some fair Ariel, laughing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> at death, it -flitted above the yellow Calibans of horror that lay strewn below.</p> - -<p>Yet, from the very nature of these incompleted movements, I was -aware that the experiment was unsuccessful, and that the power was -insufficient. Instead of spasmodic, the movements should have been -rhythmical and easy; there should have been purpose and intention in -the performance of that driven body; there should have been commanding -gestures, significant direction; there should have been spontaneous -breathing and—a voice—the voice of Life.</p> - -<p>And instead—I witnessed an unmeaning pantomime, and heard the wailing -of the dying wind....</p> - -<p>A voice, indeed, there was, but it was the voice of Julius LeVallon -that eventually came to me across the length of the room. I saw him -slowly approaching through the patches of unequal moonlight, carrying -over his shoulder the frail, white burden that had collapsed against -the further wall. And his words were very few, spoken more to himself -apparently than to me. I heard them; they struck chill and ominous upon -my heart:</p> - -<p>“The conditions were imperfect, the power insufficient. Alone we cannot -do it. We must wait for <em>her</em>.... And the channel must be another’s—as -before.”</p> - -<p>The strain of high excitement passed. I knew once again that small -and pitiful sensation of returning to my normal consciousness. The -exhilaration all was gone. There came a dwindling of the heart. I -was “myself” again, John Mason, student at Edinburgh University. It -produced a kind of shock, the abruptness of the alteration took my -strength away. I experienced a climax of sensation, disappointment, -distress, fear and revolt as well, that proved too much for me. I ran. -I reeled. I heard the sound of my own falling.</p> - -<p>No recollection of what immediately followed remains with me ... -for when I opened my eyes much later, I found myself prone upon the -landing several floors below, with Julius bending solicitously over -me, helping me to rise. The moonlight fell in a flood through a -window on the stairs. My recovery was speedy, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> not complete. I -accompanied him down the remaining flight, leaning upon his arm; and in -the street my senses, though still dazed, took in that the night was -calm and cloudless, that the moonlight veiled the stars by its serene -brightness, and that the clock above the University buildings pointed -to the hour of two in the morning.</p> - -<p>The cold was bitter. There was no wind!</p> - -<p>Julius came with me to my door in Frederick Street, but the entire -distance of a mile neither of us spoke a word.</p> - -<p>At the door of my lodging-house, however, he turned. I drew back -instinctively, hesitating, for my desire was to get upstairs into my -own room with the door locked safely behind me. But he caught my hand.</p> - -<p>“We failed to-night,” he whispered, “but when the real time comes we -shall succeed. <em>You</em> will not—fail me then?”</p> - -<p>In the stillness of very early morning, the moon sinking towards the -long dip of the Queensferry Road, and the shadows lying deep upon the -deserted streets, I heard his voice once more come travelling down the -centuries to where I stood. The atmosphere of those other days and -other places came back with incredible appeal upon me.</p> - -<p>He drew me within the chilly hall-way, the sound of our feet echoing -up the spiral staircase of stone. Night lay silently over everything, -sunrise still many hours away.</p> - -<p>I turned and looked into his eager, passionate face, into his eyes -that still shone with the radiance of the two great powers, at the -mouth and lips which now betrayed the exhaustion that had followed -the huge effort. And something appealing and personal in his entire -expression made it impossible to refuse. I shook my head, I shrank -away, but a voice I scarcely recognised as my own gave the required -answer. My upper and my under selves conflicted; yet the latter gave -the inevitable pledge: “Julius ... I promise you.”</p> - -<p>He gazed into my eyes. An inexpressible tenderness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> stole into his -manner. He took my hand and held it. The die was cast.</p> - -<p>“She is now upon the earth with us,” he said. “I soon shall find her. -We three shall inevitably be drawn together, for we are linked by -indestructible ties. There is this debt we must repay—we three who -first together incurred it.”</p> - -<p>There was a pause. Far away I heard a cart rumbling over the cobbles -of George Street. In another world it seemed, for the gods were still -about us where we stood. Julius moved from me. Once more I saw his eyes -fixed pleadingly, almost yearningly upon my own. Then the street door -closed upon him and he was gone.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> -<h3><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h3> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>Love and pity are pleading with me this hour.</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>What is this voice that stays me forbidding to yield,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Offering beauty, love, and immortal power,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>Aeons away in some far-off heavenly field?</em>”—A. E.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">The</span> actual beginnings of a separation are often so slight that they -are scarcely noticed. Between two friends, whose acquaintance is of -several years’ standing, sure that their tie will stand the ordinary -tests of life, some unexpected and trivial incident first points to the -parting of the ways; each discovers suddenly that, after all, the other -is not necessary to him. An emotion unshared is sufficient to reveal -some fundamental lack of sympathy hitherto concealed, and they go their -different ways, neither claim debited with the least regret. Like the -scarce perceptible mist of evening that divides dusk from night, the -invisible chill has risen between them; each sees the other through a -cloud that first veils, then distorts, and finally obliterates.</p> - -<p>For some weeks after the “experiment” I saw LeVallon through some -such risen mist, now thin, now thick, but always there and invariably -repelling. I remember distinctly, however, that our going apart was to -me not without a sense of regret both keen and poignant. I owed him -something impossible to describe; a yearning sense of beauty touched -common things about me at the sight of him, even at the mention of his -name in the University class-rooms; he had given me an awareness of -other possibilities, an exhilarating view of life that held immense -perspectives; a feeling that justice determined even the harshest -details; above all, a sense of kinship with Nature that combined to -form a tie of a most uncommon order.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span></p> - -<p>Yet I went willingly from his side; for his prospectus of existence led -me towards heights where I could not comfortably breathe. His entire -scheme I never properly grasped, perhaps; the little parts we shared -I saw, possibly, in wrong proportion, uncorrelated to the huge map -his mind contained so easily. My own personality was insignificant, -my powers mediocre; above all I had not always his strange conviction -of positive memory to support me. I lagged behind. I left him. The -seductive world that touched him not made decided claims upon my -heart—love, passion, ambition and adventure called me strongly. I -would not give up all and follow where he led. Yet I left him with -the haunting consciousness that I surrendered a system of belief that -was logical, complete and adequate, its scale of possible achievement -wonderful, and its unselfish ideal, if immensely difficult, at least -noble and inspiring. For all his mysticism, Julius, it seems to me, was -practical and scientific.</p> - -<p>Yet, the plausibility of his audacious theories would sometimes return -questioningly upon me. Man was an integral part of Nature, not alien to -it. What was there, after all, so impossible in what he claimed? And -what amongst it might not the science of to-morrow, with its X rays, N -rays, its wireless messages, its radium, its inter-molecular energy, -and its slowly-formulating laws of telepathy and the dynamic character -of Thought, not come eventually to confirm under new-fangled names?</p> - -<p>So far as I reflected concerning these things at all, I kept an open -mind; my point was simply that I preferred the ordinary pursuits of -ordinary men. He was evidently aware of the change in me, while yet he -made no effort to prevent my going. Nor did he make, so far as I can -recall, any direct reference to the matter. Once only, in a lecture -room, with a hand upon my shoulder while we jostled out together in the -stream of other students, he bent his face towards me and said with the -tender, comprehending smile that never failed to touch me deeply: “Our -lives are far too deeply knit for any final separation. Out of the Past -we come, and that Past<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> is not exhausted yet.” The crowd had carried us -apart before I could reply, but through me like a flash of lightning -rose the certainty that this was literally true, and that while my -upper, modern Self went off, my older, hidden Self was with him to the -end. We merely took two curves that presently must join again.</p> - -<p>But, though we saw little of one another all these weeks, I can never -forget the scene of our actual leave-taking, nor the extraordinary -incidents that led up to it. Now that I set it down on paper such -phrases as “imaginative glamour” and the like may tempt me, but at the -time it was as real and actual as the weekly battles with my landlady, -or the sheaves of laborious notes I made at lecture-time. In some -region of my consciousness, abnormal or otherwise, this scene most -certainly took place.</p> - -<p>It was one late evening towards the close of the session—March or -April, therefore—that I had occasion to visit LeVallon’s house for -some reason in itself of no importance; one of those keen and blustery -nights that turn Edinburgh into a scene of unspeakable desolation, -Princes Street, a vista of sheeted rain where shop-windows glistened -upon black pavements; the Castle smothered in mist; Scott’s Monument -semi-invisible with a monstrous air about it in the gloom; and the -entire deserted town swept by a wind that howled across the Forth with -gusts of quite thunderous energy. Even the cable-cars blundered along -like weary creatures blindly seeking shelter.</p> - -<p>I hurried through the confusion of the tempest, fighting my way at -every step, and on turning the corner past the North British Railway -Station, the storm carried me with a rush into the porch of the -house, whipping the soaked macintosh with a blow across my face. The -rain struck the dripping walls down their entire height, then poured -splashing along the pavement in a stream. Night seemed to toss me into -the building like some piece of wreckage from the crest of a great wave.</p> - -<p>Panting and momentarily flustered, I paused in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> little hall to -recover breath, while the hurricane, having flung me into shelter, -went roaring and howling down the sloping street. I wiped the rain -from my face and put straight my disordered clothes. My mind just then -was occupied with nothing but these very practical considerations. The -impression that followed the next instant came entirely unbidden:</p> - -<p>For I became aware of a sudden and enveloping sense of peace, beyond -all telling calm and beautiful—an interior peace—a calm upon the -spirit itself. It was a spiritual emotion. There drifted over me -and round me, like the stillness of some perfect dawn, the hush of -something serene and quiet as the stars. All stress and turmoil of -the outer world passed into an exquisite tranquillity that in some -nameless way was solemn as the spaces of the sky. I felt almost as if -some temple atmosphere, some inner Sanctuary of olden time, where the -tumult of external life dared not intrude, had descended on me. And the -change arrested every active impulse in my being; my hurrying thoughts -lay down and slept; all that was scattered in me gathered itself softly -into an inner fold; unsatisfied desires closed their eyes. It seemed -as if all the questing energies of my busy personality found suddenly -repose. Life’s restlessness was gone. I even forgot momentarily the -purpose for which I came.</p> - -<p>So abrupt a change of key was difficult to realise; I can only say that -the note of spiritual peace seemed far more true and actual than the -physical relief due to the escape from wind and rain. Moreover, as I -climbed the spiral staircase to the second floor where Julius lived, it -deepened perceptibly—as though it emanated from his dwelling quarters, -pervading the entire building. It brought back the atmosphere of what -at school we called our “Temple Days.”</p> - -<p>I went on tiptoe, fearful of disturbing what seemed solemn even to -the point of being sacred, for the mood was so strong that I felt no -desire to resist or criticise. Whatever its cause, this subjective -state of mind was soothing to the point of actual happiness. A hint of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> -bliss was in it. And it did not lessen either, when I discovered the -landlady, Mrs. Garnier, white of face in the little hall-way, showing -signs of nervousness that she made no attempt whatever to conceal.</p> - -<p>She was all eagerness to speak. Before I could ask if Julius was at -home, she relieved her burdened mind:</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’ll be you, Mr. Mason! And I’m that glad ye’ve come!”</p> - -<p>Her round, puffy visage plainly expressed relief, as she came towards -me with a shambling gait, looking over her shoulder across the dim-lit -hall. “Mr. LeVallion,” she whispered, “has been in there without a -sound since mornin’, and I’m thinkin’, maybe, something would ha’ -happened to him.” And she stared into my face as though I could -instantly explain what troubled her. Where I felt spiritual peace, she -felt, obviously, spiritual alarm.</p> - -<p>“He is engaged?” I inquired. Then—though hardly aware why I put the -question—I added: “There is someone with him?”</p> - -<p>She peered about her.</p> - -<p>“He’ll be no engaged to you, sir,” she replied. Plainly, it was not her -lodger’s instructions that prompted the words; by the way she hung back -I discerned that she dreaded to announce me; she hoped I would go in -and explore alone.</p> - -<p>“I’ll wait in the sitting-room till he comes out,” I said, after a -moment’s hesitation. And I moved towards the door.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Garnier, however, at once made an involuntary gesture to -prevent me. I can still hear her slippered tread shuffling across -the oil-cloth. The gesture became a sort of leap when she saw that I -persisted. It reminded me of a frightened animal.</p> - -<p>“There’ll be twa gentlemen already waiting,” she mumbled thickly, her -face turning a shade paler.</p> - -<p>And, hearing this, I paused. The old woman, I saw, was trembling. I was -annoyed at the interruption, for it destroyed the sense of delightful -peace I had enjoyed.</p> - -<p>“Anyone I know?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span></p> - -<p>I was close to the door as I asked it, the terrified old woman close -beside me. She thrust her grey face up to mine; her eyes shone in the -gleam of the low-turned gas jet above our heads; and her excitement -communicated itself suddenly to my own blood. A distinct shiver ran -down my back.</p> - -<p>“I dinna ken them,” she whispered behind a hand she held to her mouth, -“for, ye see, I dinna let them in.”</p> - -<p>I stared at her, wondering what was coming next. The slight trepidation -I had felt for a moment vanished, but I kept my voice at a whisper for -fear of disturbing Julius in his inner chamber on the other side of the -wall.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean? Tell me plainly what’s the matter.” I said it with -some sharpness.</p> - -<p>She replied at once, only too glad to share her anxiety with another.</p> - -<p>“They came in by themselves,” she whispered with a touch of -superstitious awe; “wonderfu’ big men, the twa of them, and -dark-skinned as the de’il,” and she drew back a pace to watch the -effect of her words upon me.</p> - -<p>“How long ago?” I asked impatiently. I remembered suddenly that Julius -had friends among the Hindu students. It was more than possible that he -had given them his key.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Garnier shook her head suggestively. “I went in an hour ago,” she -told me in a low tone, “thinkin’ maybe he would be eatin’ something, -and, O Lord mercy, I ran straight against the pair of them, settin’ -there in the darkness wi’oot a word.”</p> - -<p>“Well?” I said, seeing that she was likely to invent, “and what of it?”</p> - -<p>“Neither of them moved a finger at me,” she continued breathlessly, -“but they looked all over me, and they had eyes like a flame o’ fire, -and I all but let the lamp fall and came out in a faintin’ condeetion, -and have been prayin’ ever since that someone would come in.”</p> - -<p>She shuffled into the middle of the hall-way, drawing me after her by -my sleeve. She pointed towards a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> corner of the ceiling. A small square -window was let into the wall of the little interior room where Julius -sought his solitude, and where at this moment he was busy with his -mysterious occupations.</p> - -<p>“And what’ll be that awfu’ licht, then?” she inquired, plucking me by -the arm.</p> - -<p>A gleam of bright white light, indeed, was visible through the -small dusty pane above us, and again a curious memory ran like -sheet-lightning across my mind that I had seen this kind of light -before and that it was familiar to me. It vanished instantly before I -could seize the fleeting picture. The light certainly was of peculiar -brightness, coming from neither gas nor candle, nor from any ordinary -light that I could have named off-hand.</p> - -<p>“It’ll be precisely that kind of licht that’s in their eyes,” I heard -her whisper, as she jerked her whole body rather than her head alone -towards the sitting-room I was about to enter. She wiped her clammy -hands upon the striped apron that hung crooked from her angular hips.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Garnier,” I said with authority, “there’s nothing to be afraid -of. Mr. LeVallon makes experiments sometimes, that’s all. He wouldn’t -hurt a hair of your head——”</p> - -<p>“Nae doot,” she interrupted me, backing away from the door, “for his -bonny face is a face to get well on, but the twa others in there, the -darkies—aye, and that’ll be another matter, and not one for me to be -meddlin’ with——”</p> - -<p>I cut her short. “If you feel frightened,” I said, smiling, “go to your -room and pray. You needn’t announce me. I’ll go in and wait until he’s -ready to come out and see me.”</p> - -<p>Her face went white as linen, showing up an old scar on the cheek in -an ugly reddish pattern, while I pushed past her and turned the handle -of the door. I heard the breath catch in her throat. The next minute, -lamp in hand, I was in the room, slamming the door literally in her -face lest she might follow and do some foolish thing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> I set the lamp -down upon the table in the centre. I looked quickly about me. No living -person but myself was there—certainly no Hindu gentlemen with eyes -of flame. Mrs. Garnier’s Celtic imagination had run away with her -altogether. I sat down and waited. A line of that same bright, silvery -light shone also beneath the crack of the door from the inner chamber. -The wind and rain trumpeted angrily at the windows. But the room was -undeniably empty.</p> - -<p>Yet it is utterly beyond me to describe the sense of exaltation that at -once rose over me like some influence of perfect music; “exaltation” -<em>is</em> the right word, I think, and “music” conveys best the uplifting -and soothing effect that was produced. For here, at closer quarters, -the sensation of exquisite peace was doubly renewed. The nervous -alarm inspired by the woman fled. This peace flooded me; it stirred -the bliss of some happy spiritual life long since enjoyed and long -since forgotten. I passed instantly, as it were, under the sway of -some august authority that banished the fret and restlessness of the -extraneous world; and compared to which the strife and ambition of my -modern life seemed, indeed, well lost.</p> - -<p>Behind it, however, and behind the solemnity that awed, was at the same -time the faint presage of something vaguely disquieting. The memory -of some afflicting incompleteness gripped me; the anguish of ideals -too lofty for attainment; the sweet pain and passion of some exquisite -long suffering; the secret yearning of a soul that had dared sublime -accomplishment, then plunged itself and others in the despair of -failure—all this lay in the apprehension that stood close behind the -bliss.</p> - -<p>But, above all else, was the certainty that I remembered definite -details of those Temple Days, and that I was upon the verge of still -further and more detailed recollection.... That faintness stealing -over me was the faintness of immeasurable distance, the ache of dizzy -time, the weariness that has no end and no beginning. I felt what -Julius LeVallon felt—the deep sickness of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> eternity that knows no -final rest, either of blessed annihilation or of non-existence, until -the journey of the soul comes to its climax in the Deity. And, feeling -this—realising it—for the first time, I understood, also for the -first time, LeVallon’s words at Motfield Close two years ago—“If the -soul remembered all, it would lose the courage to attempt. Only the -vital things are worth recalling, because they guide.”</p> - -<p>This flashed across me now, as I sat in that Edinburgh lodging-house, -waiting for him to come. I knew myself, beyond all doubt or question, -caught away in that web of wonderful, far-off things; there revived -in me the yearnings of memories exceedingly remote; poignant still -with life, because they were unexhausted still, and terrible with -that incompleteness which sooner or later <em>must</em> find satisfaction. -And it was this sense of things left undone that brought the feeling -of presentiment. Julius, in that inner chamber, was communing as of -old. But also—he was searching. He was hard upon the trail of ancient -clues. He was seeking <em>her</em>. I knew it in my bones.</p> - -<p>For I felt some subtle communication with that other mind beyond the -obstructing door—not, however, as it was to-day, but as it was in the -recoverable centuries when the three of us had committed the audacious -act which still awaited its final readjustment at our hands. Julius, -searching by some method of his own among the layers of our ancient -lives, reconstructed the particular scenes he needed. Involuntarily, -unwittingly, I shared them too. I had stepped into his ancient mood....</p> - -<p>My mind grew crowded. The pictures rose and passed, and rose again....</p> - -<p>But it was always one in particular that returned, staying longer than -the others. He concentrated upon one, then. In his efforts to find -<em>her</em> soul in its body of to-day, he went back to the source of our -original relationship, the immensely remote experience when he and I -and she had sown the harvest we had now come back to reap together. -Thence, holding the clue, he could trace the thread of her existences -down to this very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> moment. He could find her where she stood upon the -earth—to-day.</p> - -<p>This seemed very clear to me, though how I realised it is difficult to -say. I remember a curious thought—which proves how real the conviction -was in me. I asked myself: “Does <em>she</em> feel anything now, as she goes -about her business on this earth, perhaps in England, perhaps not far -removed from us, as distance goes? And is she, too, wherever she stands -and waits, aware perhaps of some queer presentiment that haunts her -waking or her sleeping mind—the presentiment of something coming, -something about to happen—that someone waits for her?”</p> - -<p>The one persistent picture rose and captured me again....</p> - -<p>In blazing sunlight stood the building of whitened stone against -the turquoise sky; and, a little to the left, the yellow cliffs, -precipitous and crumbling. At their base were mounds of sand the wind -and sun had chiselled and piled up against their feet. The soft air -trembled with the heat; fierce light bathed everything—from the small -white figures moving up and down the rock-hewn steps, to the Temple -hollowed out between the stone paws of an immense outline half animal, -half human. To the right, and towards the east, stretched the abundant -desert, shimmering grey and blue and green beneath the torrid sun. I -smelt the empty leagues of sand, the delicate perfume that gathers -among the smooth, baked hollows of a million dunes; I felt the breeze, -sharp and exhilarating, that knew no interruption of broken surfaces to -break its journey of days and nights; and behind me I heard the faint, -sharp rustle of trees whose shadows flickered on the burning ground. -This heat and air grew stealthily upon me; fire and wind were here the -dominating influences, the natural methods which furnished vehicles for -the manifestation of particular Powers. Here was the home of our early -worship of the Sun and space, of Fire and Wind. Yet, somehow, it seemed -not of this present planet we call Earth, but of some point nearer to -the centre.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span></p> - -<p>Beside those enormous paws, where the air danced and shimmered in -the brilliant glare, I saw the narrow flight of steps leading to -the crypts below—the retreats for solitude. And then, suddenly, -with a shock of poignant recognition, I saw a figure that I knew -instantly to be myself, the Sower of my harvest of To-day. It slowly -moved down the steps behind another figure that I recognised with -equal conviction—some inner flash of lightning certainty—as Julius -LeVallon, the soul I knew to-day in Edinburgh, the soul that, in -another body, now stood near me in a nineteenth century lodging-house. -The bodies, too, were lighter, less dense and material than those we -used to-day, the spirit occupier less hampered and restricted. That too -was clear to me.</p> - -<p>I was aware of both times, both places simultaneously. That is, I was -not dreaming. The peace, moreover, that stole round me in this modern -building was but a faint reflection of the peace once familiar to me -in those far-off Temple Days. And somehow it was the older memory that -dominated consciousness.</p> - -<p>About me the room held still as death, the battle of that earthly -storm against the walls and windows half unreal, or so remote as to -be not realised. Time paused a moment. I looked back. I lived as I -had been then—in another type of consciousness, it seemed. It was -marvellous, yet natural as in a dream. Only, as in a dream, subsequent -language fails to retain the searching, vivid reality. The living -<em>fact</em> is not recaptured. I felt. I understood. Certain tendencies -and characteristics that were “me” to-day I saw explained—those that -derived from this particular period. What must be conquered, and why, -flashed sharply; also individuals whom to avoid would be vain shirking, -since having sown together we must reap together—or miss the object of -our being.</p> - -<p>I heard strange names—Concerighé, Silvatela, Ziaz ... and a surge of -passionate memories caught at my heart. Yet it was not Egypt, it was -not India or the East, it was not Assyria or old Chaldea even; this -belonged to a civilisation older than them all, some dim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> ancient -kingdom that antedated all records open to possible research to-day....</p> - -<p>I was in contact with the searching mind within that inner chamber. -His effort included me, making the deeps in me give up their dead. -I saw. He sought through many “sections.”... I followed.... There -was confusion—the pictures of recent days breaking in upon others -infinitely remote. I could not disentangle....</p> - -<p>Very sharply, then, and with a sensation of uneasiness that was almost -pain, another figure rose. I saw a woman. With the same clear certainty -of recognition the face presented itself. Hair, lips, and eyes I saw -distinctly, yet somehow through a haze that veiled the expression. -About the graceful neck hung a soft cloth of gold; dark lashes screened -a gaze still starry and undimmed; there was a smile of shining teeth -... the eyes met mine....</p> - -<p>With a diving rush the entire picture shifted, passing on to another -scene, and I saw two figures, her own and his, bending down over -something that lay stretched and motionless upon an altar of raised -stones. We were in shadow now; the air was cool; the perfume of the -open desert had altered to the fragrance that was incense.... The -picture faded, flashed quickly back, faded again, and once again was -there. I could not hold it for long. Larger, darker figures swam -between to confuse and blur its detail, figures of some swarthier -race, as though layers of other memories, perhaps more recent, mingled -bewilderingly with it. The two passed in and out of one another, -sometimes interpenetrating, as when two slides appear upon the -magic-lantern sheet together; yet, peering at me through the phantasmal -kaleidoscope, shone ever this woman-face, seductively lovely, haunting -as a vision of stars, mask of a soul even then already “old,” although -the picture was of ages before the wisdom of Buddha or the love of -Christ had stolen on the world....</p> - -<p>Then came a moment of clearer sight suddenly, and I saw that the -objects lying stretched and motionless in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> the obscurity, and over -one of which they bent in concentrated effort, were the bodies of -men not dead, but temporarily vacated. And I knew that we stood in -the Hall of the Vacated Bodies, an atmosphere of awe and solemnity -about us. For these were the advanced disciples who in the final -initiation lay three days and nights entranced, while their souls -acquired “elsewhere and otherwise” the knowledge no brain could attain -to in the flesh. During the interval there were those who watched the -empty tenements—Guardians of the Vacated Bodies—and two of these I -now saw bending low—the woman and a man. The body itself I saw but -dimly, but an overmastering curiosity woke in me to see it clearly—to -recognise——!</p> - -<p>The intensity of my effort caused a blur, it seemed. Across my inner -sight the haze thickened for a moment, and I lost the scene. But this -time I understood. The dread of something they were about to consummate -blackened the memory with the pain of treachery. Guardians of the -Vacated Bodies, they had been faithless to their trust: they had used -their position for some personal end. Awe and terror clutched my soul. -Who was the leader, who the led, I failed utterly to recover, nor what -the motive of the broken trust had been. A sublime audacity lay in it, -that I knew. There was the desire for knowledge not yet properly within -their reach; there was the ambition to evoke the elemental powers; -and there was an “experiment,” using the instrument at hand as the -channel for an achievement that might have made them—one of them, at -any rate—as the gods. But there was about it all an entanglement of -personalities and motives I was helpless to unravel. The whole deep -significance I could not recover. My own part, the part he played, and -the part the woman played, seemed woven in an involved and inextricable -knot. It belonged, I felt, to an order of consciousness which is not -the order of to-day. I, therefore, failed to understand completely. -Only that we three were together, closely linked, emerged absolutely -clear.</p> - -<p>For one moment the scene returned again. I remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> that something -drove forcibly against me in that ancient place, that it flung itself -roaring like a tempest in my face, that a great burning sensation -passed through me, while sheets of what I can only describe as black -fire tore through the air about us. There was fire and there was wind -... that much I realised.</p> - -<p>I rocked—that is my present body rocked. I reeled upon my chair. The -entire memory plunged down into darkness with a speed of lightning. I -seemed to rise—to emerge from the depths of some sea within me where I -had lain sunk for ages. In one sense—I awoke. But, before the glamour -passed entirely, and while the reality of the scene hung about me -still, I remember that a cry for help escaped my lips, and that it was -the name of our leader that I called upon:</p> - -<p>“Concerighé...!”</p> - -<p>With that cry still sounding in the air, I turned, and saw him whom I -had called upon beside me. With a kind of splendid, dazzling light he -came. He rested one hand upon my shoulder; he gazed down into my eyes; -and I looked into a face that was magnificent with power, radiant, -glorious. The atmosphere momentarily seemed turned to flame. I felt a -wind of strength strike through me. The old temptation and the sin—the -failure—all were clear at last.</p> - -<p>I remembered....</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> -<h3><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">The</span> brilliance of the figure dimmed and melted, as though the shadows -ate it from the edges inwards; there came a rattling at the handle of -that inner chamber door; it opened suddenly; and Julius LeVallon, this -time in his body of To-day, stood framed against the square of light -that swirled behind him like clouds of dazzlingly white steam. The door -swung to and closed. He moved forward quickly into the room.</p> - -<p>By this time I was more in possession of my normal senses again. Here -was no question of memory, vision, or imagination’s glamour. Beyond -any doubt or ambiguity, there stood beside me in this sitting-room of -the Edinburgh lodging-house two figures of Julius LeVallon. I saw them -simultaneously. There was the normal Julius walking across the carpet -towards me, and there was his double that stood near me in a body of -light—now fading, yet unquestionably wearing the likeness of that -Concerighé whom I had seen bending with the woman above the vacated -body.</p> - -<p>They moved together swiftly. Almost the same moment they met; they -intermingled, much as two outlines of an object slip one into the other -when the finger’s pressure on the eyeball is removed. They became one -person. Julius was there before me in the lamp-lit room, just come -from his inner chamber that blazed with brilliance. This light now -disappeared. No line showed beneath the crack of the door. I heard the -wind and rain shout drearily past the windows with the dying storm.</p> - -<p>I caught my breath. I stood up to face him, taking a quick step -backwards. And I heard Julius laugh a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> little. He told me afterwards I -had assumed an attitude of defence.</p> - -<p>He was speaking—in his ordinary voice, no sign of excitement in him, -nor about his presence anything unusual.</p> - -<p>“You called me,” he said quietly; “you called for help. But I could not -come at once; I could not get back; it was such a long way off.” He -looked at me and smiled. “I was searching,” he added, as though he had -been merely turning the pages of a book.</p> - -<p>“Our old Memory Game. I know. I felt it—even out here.”</p> - -<p>He nodded gravely.</p> - -<p>“You could hardly help it,” he replied, “being so close,” and indicated -that inner room with a gesture of his head. “Besides, you were in it -all the time. And she was in it too. Oh,” he said with a touch of swift -enthusiasm, “I have recovered nearly all. I know exactly now what -happened. I was the leader, I the instigator; you both merely helped -me; you with your faithful friendship, even while you warned; she with -her passionate love that asked no questions, but obeyed.”</p> - -<p>“She loved you so?” I asked faintly, but with an uncontrollable -trembling of the voice. An amazing prescience seized me.</p> - -<p>“You,” he said calmly. “It was you she loved.”</p> - -<p>What thrill of romance, deathless and enthralling, stirred in me as -I heard these words! What starry glory stepped down upon the world! -A memory of bliss poured into me; the knowledge of an undying love -constant as the sun itself. Then, hard upon its heels, flashed back -the Present with a small and insignificant picture—of my approaching -union—with another. An extraordinary revulsion caught me. I remember -steadying myself against the chair in front of me.</p> - -<p>“For it was your love,” Julius went on quietly, “that made you so -necessary. You two were a single force together. I had the knowledge, -but you together had the greatest power in the world. We were three—a -trinity—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> strongest union possible. And the temptation was too much -for me——”</p> - -<p>He turned away a moment so that I could not see his face. He broke off -suddenly. There was a new and curious quality in his voice, as though -it dwindled in volume and grew smaller, yet was not audibly lowered.</p> - -<p>What caused the old sense of dread to quicken in me? What brought this -sudden sinking of the heart as he turned again from the cabinet where -he stood, and our eyes met steadily through the lamp-lit room?</p> - -<p>“I borrowed love, but knew not how to use it,” he went on slowly, -solemnly. “I had evoked the Powers successfully; through the channel -of that vacated body I had drawn them into my own being. Then came the -failure——”</p> - -<p>“I—we failed you!” I faltered.</p> - -<p>“The failure,” he replied, still fixing me with his glowing eyes, “was -mine, and mine alone. The power lent me I did not understand. It was -not my own, and without great love these things cannot be accomplished. -I must first know love. What I had summoned I was too weak to banish. -The owner of the vacated body returned.” Then, after a pause, he added -half below his breath: “The Powers, exiled from their appointed place, -are about me to this very day. But it is the owner of that body whose -forgiveness I need most. And only with your help—with the presence, -the sympathetic presence of yourself and her—can this be effected.”</p> - -<p>Past, present, and future seemed strangely intermingled as I heard, for -my thoughts went groping forward, and at the same time diving backwards -among desert sands and temples. The passion of an immense love-story -caught me; I was aware of intense yearning to resume my place in it -all with him, with her, with all the reconstructed conditions of -relationships so ancient and so true. It swept over me like a storm -unchained. That scene in the cool and sunless crypt flamed forth again, -reality in each smallest detail. The meaning of his words I did not -wholly grasp, however;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> there was something lacking in my mind of -To-day that withheld the final clue. My present consciousness was not -as then. From brain and reason all this seemed so utterly divorced, and -I had forgotten how to understand by <em>feeling</em> in the way that Julius -did. Those last words, however, brought a sudden question to my lips. -Almost unconsciously I gave it utterance:</p> - -<p>“Through the channel of a body?” I asked, and my voice was lower than -his own.</p> - -<p>“Through the channel of a human system,” was his answer, “an organism -that uses consciously both heat and air, and that, therefore, knows the -nature of them both. For the Powers can be summoned only by those who -understand them; and understanding, being worship, depends ultimately -upon <em>sharing</em> their natures, though it be in little.”</p> - -<p>There came a welcome break, then, in the strain of this extraordinary -conversation, as Julius, using no bridge to transpose our emotions -from one key to the other, walked quietly over to the cupboard. It was -characteristically significant of his attitude to life in general, -that the solemn things we had been speaking of were yet no more sacred -than the prosaic detail of to-day that now concerned him—a student’s -supper. All was “one” to him in this rare but absolutely genuine way. -He was unconscious of any break in the emotional level of what had -been—for him there was, indeed, no break—and, watching him, it almost -seemed that I still saw that other figure of long ago striding across -the granite, sun-drenched slabs.</p> - -<p>The voice rose unbidden within me, choked by the stress of some -inexplicable emotion:</p> - -<p>“Concerighé...!” I cried aloud involuntarily; “Concerighé ... Ziaz.... -We are all together still ... my help is yours ... my unfailing -help....”</p> - -<p>Julius, loaf and marmalade jar in hand, turned from the cupboard as -though he had been struck. For a moment he stood and stared. The -customary expression melted from his face, and in its place a look of -tenderest compassion shone through the strength.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p> - -<p>“You do remember, then!” he said very softly; “even the names!”</p> - -<p>“And Silvatela,” I murmured, moisture rising unaccountably to my eyes. -I saw the room in mist.</p> - -<p>Julius stood before me like a figure carved in stone. For a long -time he spoke no word. Gradually the curious disturbance in my own -breast sank and passed. The mist lifted and disappeared. I felt myself -slipping back into To-day on the ebb of some shattering experience, -already half forgotten.</p> - -<p>“You remember,” he repeated presently, his voice impassioned but firmly -quiet, “the temptation—and—the failure...?”</p> - -<p>I nodded, almost involuntarily again.</p> - -<p>“And still hold to you—both,” I murmured.</p> - -<p>He held me with his eyes for quite a minute. Though he used no word or -gesture, I felt his deep delight.</p> - -<p>“Because we must,” he answered presently; “because we must.”</p> - -<p>He had moved so close to me that I felt his breath upon my face. I -could have sworn for a second that I gazed into the shining eyes of -that other and audacious figure, for it was the voice of Concerighé, -yet the face of Julius. Past and present seemed to join hands, mingling -confusedly in my mind. Cause and effect whispered across the centuries, -linking us together. And the voice continued deeply, as if echoing down -hollow aisles of stone.</p> - -<p>I heard the words in the shadowy spaces of that old-world crypt, rather -than among the plush furniture of these Edinburgh lodgings.</p> - -<p>“We three are at last together again, and must bring the Balance to a -final close. As the stars are but dust upon the pathway of the gods, so -our mistakes are but dust upon the pathway of our lives. What we let -fall together, we must together remove.”</p> - -<p>Then, with an abruptness that pertained sometimes to these curious -irruptions from the past, the values shifted. He became more and more -the Julius LeVallon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> whom I knew to-day. Speech changed to a modern -and more usual key. And the effect upon myself was of vague relief, -for while the impression of great drama did not wholly pass, the -uneasiness lightened in me, and I found my tongue again. I told my -own experience—all that I had seen and felt and thought. Brewing the -cocoa, and setting out the bread and marmalade upon the table, Julius -listened to every word without interruption. Our intimacy was complete -again as though no separation, either of lives or days, had been -between us.</p> - -<p>“Inside me, of course,” I concluded the recital; “in some kind of -interior sight I saw it all——”</p> - -<p>“The only true sight,” he declared, “though what you saw was but the -reflection at second-hand of memories I evoked in there.” He pointed to -the inner room. “In there,” he went on significantly, “where nothing -connected with the Present enters, no thought, no presence, nothing -that can disturb or interrupt,—in there you would see and remember -as vividly as I myself. The room is prepared.... The channels all are -open. As it was, my pictures flashed into you and set the great chain -moving. For no life is isolated; all is shared; and every detail, -animate or so-called inanimate, belongs inevitably to every other.”</p> - -<p>“Yet what I saw was so much clearer than our schoolday memories,” I -said. “Those pictures, for instance, of the pastoral people where we -came together first.”</p> - -<p>An expression of yearning passed into his eyes as he answered.</p> - -<p>“Because in our Temple Days you led the life of the soul instead of the -body merely. The soul alone remembers. There lies the permanent record. -Only what has touched the soul, therefore, is recoverable—the great -joys, great sorrows, great adventures that have reached it. You <em>feel</em> -them. The rest are but fugitive pictures of scenery that accompanied -the spiritual disturbances. Each body you occupy has a different brain -that stores its own particular series. But true memory is in, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> of, -the Soul. Few have any true soul-life at all; few, therefore, have -anything to remember!”</p> - -<p>His low voice ran on and on, charged with deep earnestness; his very -atmosphere seemed to vibrate with the conviction of his words; about -his face occasionally were flashes of that radiance in which his body -of light—his inmost being—dwelt for ever. I remember moving the -marmalade pot from its precarious position on the table edge, lest his -gestures should send it flying! But I remember also that the haunting -reality of “other days and other places” lay about us while we talked, -so that the howling of the storm outside seemed far away and quite -unable to affect us. We knew perfect communion in that dingy room. We -<em>felt</em> together.</p> - -<p>“But it is difficult, often painful, to draw the memories up again,” -he went on, still speaking of recovery, “for they lie so deeply coiled -about the very roots of joy and grief. Things of the moment smother the -older pictures. The way of recovery is arduous, and not many would deem -the sacrifice involved worth while. It means plunging into yourself as -you must plunge below the earth if you would see the starlight while -the sun is in the sky. To-day’s sunlight hides the stars of yesterday. -Yet all is accessible—the entire series of the soul’s experiences, and -real forgetting is not possible.”</p> - -<p>A movement as of wind seemed to pass between us over the faded carpet, -bearing me upwards while he spoke, sweeping me with his own conviction -of our eternal ancestry and of our unending future.</p> - -<p>“We have made ourselves exactly what we are. We are making our future -at this very minute—<em>now!</em>” I exclaimed. The justice of the dream -inspired me. Great courage, a greater hope awoke.</p> - -<p>He smiled, opening his arms with a gesture that took in the world.</p> - -<p>“Your aspirations, hopes and fears, all that has ever burned -vitally at your centre, every spiritual passion that uplifted or -enticed, each deep endeavour that seeded your present tendencies -and talents—everything, in fact,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> strong enough to have touched -your Soul—sends up its whirling picture of beauty or dismay at the -appointed time. The disentangling may be difficult, but all are -there, for you yourself are their actual, living Record. Feeling, -not thinking, best unravels them—the primitive vision as of -children—the awareness of kinship with everything about you. The -sense of separateness and isolation vanishes, and the soul recovers -the consciousness of sharing all the universe. There is no loneliness; -there is no more fear.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ah, how we talked that night of tempest through! What thoughts and -dreams and possibilities Julius sent thundering against my mind as -with the power of the loosed wind and rain outside. The scale of life -became immense, each tiniest detail of act and thought important with -the sacredness of some cosmic ceremonial that it symbolised. Yet to his -words alone this power was not due, but rather to some force of driving -certitude in himself that brought into me too a similar conviction. The -memory of it hardened in the sands of my imagination, as it were, so -that the result has remained, although the language by which he made it -seem so reasonable has gone.</p> - -<p>I smoked my pipe; and, as the smoke curled upwards, I watched his face -of pallid marble and the mop of ebony hair that set off so well the -brilliance of the eyes. He looked, I thought to myself, like no human -being I had ever seen before.</p> - -<p>“And sometimes,” I remember hearing, “the memories from a later section -may suddenly swarm across an earlier one—confusing the sight, perhaps, -just when it is getting clear. A few hours ago, for instance, my -search was interrupted by an inrush of two more recent layers—Eastern -ones—which came to obliterate with their vividness the older, dimmer -ones I sought.”</p> - -<p>I mentioned what the frightened woman imagined she had seen.</p> - -<p>“She caught a reflected fragment too,” he said. “So strong a picture -was bound to spread.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span></p> - -<p>“Then was Mrs. Garnier with us too before?” I asked, as we burst out -laughing.</p> - -<p>“Not in that sense, no. It was the glamour that touched her -only—second-sight, as she might call it. She is sensitive to -impressions, nothing more.”</p> - -<p>He came over and sat closer to me. The web of his language folded -closer too. The momentum of his sincerity threw itself against all my -prejudices, so that I, too, saw the serpentine vista of these previous -lives stretching like a river across the ages. To this day I see his -tall, slim figure, his face with the clear pale skin, the burning eyes; -now he leaned across the table, now stood up to emphasise some phrase, -now paced the floor of that lamp-lit students’ lodging-house, while he -spoke of the long battling of our souls together, sowing thoughts and -actions whose consequences must one day be reaped without evasion. The -scale of his Dream was vast indeed, its prospect austere and merciless, -yet the fundamental idea of justice made it beautiful, as its inclusion -of all Nature made it grand.</p> - -<p>To Julius LeVallon the soul was indeed unconquerable, and man master -of his fate. Death lost its ugliness and terror; the sense of broken, -separated life was replaced by the security of a continuous existence, -whole, unhurried, eternal, affording ample time for all development, -accepting joy and suffering as the justice of results, but never as of -reward or punishment. There was no caprice; there was no such thing as -chance.</p> - -<p>Then, as the night wore slowly on, and the wind died down, and the -wonderful old town lay sleeping peacefully, we talked at last of that -one thing towards which all our conversation tended subconsciously: our -future together and the experiment that it held in store for us—with -her.</p> - -<p>I cannot hope to set down here the words by which this singular -being led me, half accepting, to the edge of understanding that his -conception might be right. To that edge, however, I somehow felt my -mind was coaxed. I looked over that edge. I saw for a moment something -of his magnificent panorama. I realised a hint of possibility<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> in -his shining scheme. But it is beyond me to report the persuasive -reasonableness of all I heard, for the truth is that Julius spoke -another language—a language incomprehensible to my mind to-day. His -words, indeed, were those of modern schools and books, but the spirit -that ensouled them belonged to a forgotten time. Only by means of some -strange inner sympathy did I comprehend him. Another, an older type of -consciousness, perhaps, woke in me. As with the pictures, this also -seemed curiously familiar as I listened. Something in me old as the -stars and wiser than the brain both heard and understood.</p> - -<p>For the elemental forces he held to be Intelligences that share the -life of the cosmos in a degree enormously more significant than -anything human life can claim. Mother Earth, for him, was no mere -poetic phrase. There was spiritual life in Nature as there was -spiritual life in men and women. The insignificance of the latter was -due to their being cut off from the great sources of supply—to their -separation from Nature. Under certain conditions, and with certain -consequences, it was possible to obtain these powers which, properly -directed, might help the entire world. This experiment we had once -made—and failed.</p> - -<p>The method I already understood in a certain measure; but the rest -escaped my comprehension. Memory failed to reconstruct it for me; -vision darkened; his words conveyed no meaning. It was beyond me. -Somewhere, somehow, personal love had entered to destroy the effective -balance that ensured complete success. Yet, equally, the power of love -which is quintessential sympathy, <em>was</em> necessary.</p> - -<p>What, however, I did easily understand was that the object of that -adventure was noble, nothing meanly personal in it anywhere; and, -further, that to restore the damaged equilibrium by returning these -particular powers to their rightful places, there must be an exact -reproduction of the conditions of evocation—that is, the three -original participants must be together again—a human system must serve -again as channel.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span></p> - -<p>And the essential fact of all that passed between us on this occasion -was that I gave again my promise. When the necessary conditions were -present—I would not fail him. This is the memory I have carried with -me through the twenty years of our subsequent separation. I gave my -pledge.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The storm blew itself to rest behind the hills; the rain no longer set -the windows rattling; the hush of early morning stole down upon the -sleeping city. We had talked the night away. He seemed aware—I know -not how—that we stood upon the brink of going apart for years. There -was great tenderness in his manner, his voice, his gestures. Turning -to me a moment as the grey light crept past the curtains, he peered -into my face as though he would revive lost centuries with the passion -of his eyes. He took my hand and held it, while a look of peace and -trust passed over his features as though the matter of the future were -already then accomplished.</p> - -<p>He led me silently across the room towards the door. I turned -instinctively; words rose up in me, but words that found no utterance. -A deep emotion held me dumb. Then, as I opened the door, I found the -old, familiar name again:</p> - -<p>“Concerighé ... Friend of a million years...!”</p> - -<p>But no sentence followed it. He touched my arm. A cold wind seemed to -pass between us. I firmly believe that somehow he foresaw the long -interval of separation that was coming. Something about him seemed to -fade; I saw him less distinctly; my sight, perhaps, was blurred with -the strain of these long hours—hours the like of which I was not to -know again for many years. That magical name has many a time echoed -since in my heart away from him, as it echoed then across the darkened -little hall-way of those Edinburgh lodgings: “Concerighé! Friend of a -million years!”</p> - -<p>Side by side we went down the granite steps of the spiral staircase to -the street. Julius opened the big front door. I heard the rattling of -the iron chain. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> breeze from the sea blew salt against our faces, -then ran gustily along the streets. Behind the Calton Hill showed a -crimson streak of dawn. A line of clouds, half rosy and half gold, -ran down the sky. No living being was astir. I heard only the noisy -whirling of the iron chimney-pots against the morning wind.</p> - -<p>And then his voice:</p> - -<p>“Good-bye—— Until we meet again....”</p> - -<p>He pressed my hands. I looked into his eyes. He stepped back into the -shadow of the porch. The door closed softly.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> -<h3><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h3> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>Forgive? O yes! How lightly, lightly said!</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>Forget? No, never, while the ages roll,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Till God slay o’er again the undying dead,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>And quite unmake my soul!</em>”—Mary Coleridge.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">I stepped</span> down, it seemed, into a lilliputian world where the grander -issues no longer drew the souls of men. The deep and simple things were -fled, the old Nature gods withdrawn. The scale of life had oddly shrunk.</p> - -<p>I saw the names above the shuttered shops with artificial articles for -sale—“11-¾d. a yard”—on printed paper labels. The cheapness of a -lesser day flashed everywhere.</p> - -<p>I passed the closed doors of a building where people flocked to mumble -that no good was in them, while a man proclaimed in a loud voice things -he hardly could believe. A few streets behind me Julius LeVallon stood -in the shadows of another porch, solitary and apart, yet communing with -stars and hills and seas, survival from a vital, vanished age when life -was realised everywhere and the elemental Nature Powers walked hand in -hand with men.</p> - -<p>Through the deserted streets I made my way across the town to my own -little student’s flat on the Morningside where I then lived. Gradually -the crimson dawn slipped into a stormy sunrise. I watched the Pentlands -take the gold, and the Castle rock turn ruddy; a gentle mist lay over -Leith below; a pool of deep blue shadow marked the slumbering Old Town.</p> - -<p>But about my heart at this magic hour stirred the dawn-winds of a -thousand ancient sunrises, and I felt the haunting atmosphere of -other days and other places steal up through the mists of immemorial -existences. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> thought of the whole great series, each life rising and -setting like a little day, each with its dawn and noon and sunset, -each with its harvest of failure and success, of joy and sorrow, -of friendships formed and enemies forgiven, of ideals realised or -abandoned—pouring out of the womb of time and slowly bringing the -soul through the discipline of all possible experience towards that -perfection which proclaims it one with the entire universe—the Deity.</p> - -<p>And a profound weariness fell about my spirit as I went. I became -aware of my own meagre enthusiasm. I welcomed the conception of some -saviour who should do it all for me. I knew myself unequal to the -gigantic task. In that moment the heroic figure of Julius seemed remote -from reality, a towering outline in the sky, an austere embodiment -of legendary myth. The former passionate certainty that he was right -dwindled amid wavering doubts. The perplexities of life came back upon -me with tormenting power. I lost the coherent vision of consistent and -logical beauty that he inspired. It was all too vast for me.</p> - -<p>This reaction was natural enough, though for a long time mood chased -mood across my troubled mind, each battling for supremacy. The -materialism of the day, proudly strutting with its boundless assurance -and its cock-sure knowledge, regained possession of my thoughts. -The emptiness of scholastic theology no longer seemed so hideously -apparent. It was pain to let the other go, but go it did—though never, -perhaps, so completely as I then believed.</p> - -<p>By insignificant details the change revealed itself. I recalled that -I was due that very afternoon at a luncheon where “intellectual” folk -would explain away the soul with a single scientific formula, and -where learned heads would wag condescendingly as they murmured “But -there’s no evidence to prove <em>that</em>, you know ...” ... and Julius rose -before me in another light at once—Pagan, dreamer, monster of exploded -superstitions, those very hills where he evoked the sylvan deities, a -momentary hallucination....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span></p> - -<p>Then again, quite suddenly, it was the chatterers at the luncheon party -who seemed unreal, and all their clever patter about the “movements” -of the day mere shallow verbiage. The hoardings of the town were blue -and yellow with gaudy election posters, but the sky was aflame with -the grand old message of the Sun God, written in eternal hieroglyphs -of gold and red upon the clouds that brushed the hills. The elemental -deities stormed thundering by. And, instead of scholars laying down the -letter of their little law, I heard the tones of Concerighé calling -across the centuries the names of great belief, of greater beauty.</p> - -<p>And the older pageantry stole back across the world.</p> - -<p>Almost it was in me to turn and seek ... with him ... that -soul-knowledge which ran through all the “sections.”... Yet the younger -fear oppressed me. The endless journey, the renunciation and suffering -involved, the incessant, tireless striving, with none to help but one’s -own unconquerable will—this, and a host of other feelings that lay -beyond expression, bore down upon me with their cold, glacier power. -I thought of Julius with something of reverence akin to terror.... I -despised myself. I also understood why the majority need priests and -creeds and formulæ to help them.... The will, divorced from Nature, was -so small a thing!</p> - -<p>When I entered my rooms the sunlight lay upon the carpet, and never -before had it seemed so welcome or so comforting. I could then and -there have worshipped the great body that sent it forth. But, instead, -in a state of exhaustion and weariness, I flung myself upon the bed. -Yet, while I slept, it seemed I left that little modern room and -entered the region of great, golden days “when the sun was younger.” -In very different attire, I took my place in the blue-robed circle, -a portion of some ancient, gorgeous ceremonial that was nearer to -the primitive beauty, when the “circles swallowed the sun,” and the -elemental Powers were accessible to every heart.</p> - -<p>It was not surprising that I slept till dusk, missing my lectures -and the luncheon party as well; but it was distinctly surprising to -find myself wakened by a knocking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> at the door for a telegram that -summoned me south forthwith. And only in the train, anxiously counting -the minutes in the hope that I might find my father still alive, did -the possible significance of LeVallon’s final words come back upon my -troubled mind: “Until we meet again.”</p> - -<p>For little did I guess that my father’s death was to prevent my -returning to the University, that my career would be changed and -hastened owing to an unexpected lack of means, that my occasional -letters to Julius were to be returned “unknown,” or that my next word -of him would be received twenty years later in a room overlooking the -Rhine at Bâle, where I have attempted to set down these difficult notes -of reminiscence....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> -<h2><a name="Chalet" id="Chalet"></a>Book III<br /> -THE CHÂLET IN THE JURA MOUNTAINS</h2> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="tb" /> -<blockquote> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> -“<em>He (man) first clothes the gods in the image of his own -innermost nature; he personifies them as modes of his own -greater consciousness. All this was native to him when he still -felt himself kin with Nature; when he felt rather than thought, -when he followed instinct rather than ratiocination. But for -long centuries this feeling of kinship with Nature has been -gradually weakened by the powerful play of that form of mind -peculiar to man; until he has at last reached a stage when he -finds himself largely divorced from Nature, to such an extent -indeed that he treats her as something foreign and apart from -himself....</em></p> - -<p>“<em>He seems at present, at any rate in the persons of most of -the accredited thinkers of the West, to be absolutely convinced -that no other mode of mind can exist except his own mode.... -To say that Nature thinks, he regards as an entire misuse of -language.... That Nature has feelings even, he will not allow; -to speak of love and hate among the elements is for him a -puerile fancy the cultured mind has long outgrown.</em></p> - -<p>“<em>The sole joy of such a mind would almost seem to be the -delight of expelling the life from all forms and dissecting -their dead bodies.</em>”—“Some Mystical Adventures” (G. R. S. -Mead).</p> -</blockquote> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> -<h3><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">For</span> a long time that letter lay on my table like a challenge—neither -accepted nor refused. Something that had slumbered in me for twenty -years awoke. The enchantment of my youthful days, long since evaporated -as I believed, rose stealthily upon me at the sight of this once -familiar handwriting. LeVallon, of course, had found the woman. And my -word was pledged.</p> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">To</span> say that I hesitated, however, would be no more true than to say -that I debated or considered. The first effect upon me was a full-blown -amazement that I could ever have come under the spell of so singular a -kind or have promised co-operation in anything so wildly preposterous -as Julius had proposed. The second effect, however—and, as it turned -out, the deeper one—was different. I experienced a longing, a thrill -of anticipation, a sense even of joy—I know not what to call it; -while in its train came a hint, though the merest hint, of that vague -uneasiness I had known in my school and university days.</p> - -<p>Yet by some obscure mental process difficult to explain, I found -myself half caught already in consent. I answered the letter, asking -instructions how to reach him in his distant valley of the Jura -Mountains. Some love of adventure—so I flattered myself—long denied -by my circumscribed conditions of life, prompted the decision in part. -For in the heart of me I obviously wished to go; and, briefly, it was -the heart of me that finally went.</p> - -<p>I passed some days waiting for a reply, LeVallon’s abode being -apparently inaccessible to the ordinary service of the post—“poste -restante” in a village marked only upon the larger maps where, I -judged, he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> to fetch his letters. And those days worked their due -effect upon me; they were filled with questions to which imagination -sought the answers. How would the intervening years have dealt with -him? What changes would have come upon him with maturity? And this -woman—what melancholy splendours brought from “old, forgotten, far-off -things” would she bring with her down into the prosaic conditions -of this materialistic century? What signs and evidences would there -be that she, like himself, was an adept at life, seeking eternal -things, discerning what was important, an “old soul” taught of the -gods and charged with the ideals of another day? I saw her already in -imagination—a woman of striking appearance and unusual qualities. And, -how had he found her? A hundred similar questions asked themselves, -but, chief among them, two: Would she—should I, <em>remember?</em></p> - -<p>The time passed slowly; my excitement grew; sometimes I hesitated, -half repented, almost laughed, but never once was tempted really to -change my mind. For in the deeper part of me, now so long ignored, -something of these ancient passions blew to flame again; symptoms of -that original dread increased; there rose once more the whisper “we -are eternally together; the thing is true!” And on the seventh day, -when the porter handed me the letter, it almost seemed that Julius -stood beside me, beckoning. I felt his presence; the old magic of -his personality tightened up a thousand loosened threads; belief was -unwillingly renewed.</p> - -<p>The instructions were very brief, no expression of personal feeling -accompanying them. Julius counted on my fidelity. It had never occurred -to him that I could fail. I left my heavy luggage in the care of the -hotel and packed the few things necessary for the journey. The notes of -our school and university days I have just jotted down I sent by post -to my London chambers. A spirit of recklessness seemed in me. I was off -into fairyland, mystery and wonder about me, possibly romance. Nothing -mattered; work could wait; I possessed a small competency of my own; -the routine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> of my life was dull and uninspiring. Also I was alone in -the world, for my early attachment had not resulted in marriage, and I -knew no other home than that of chambers, restaurants, and the mountain -inns where my holidays were usually spent. I welcomed the change with -its promise of adventure—and I went. This feeling of welcome owned -perhaps a deeper origin than I realised.</p> - -<p>Travelling via Bienne and Neuchâtel to a point beyond the latter -town, I took thence, according to instructions, a little mountain -railway that left the lake behind and plunged straight into the purple -valleys of the Jura range. Deep pine woods spread away on all sides -as we climbed a winding ravine among the folds of these soft blue -mountains that are far older than the Alps. Scarred cliffs and ridges -of limestone gleamed white against the velvet forests, now turning red -and yellow in the sunset, but no peaks were visible and no bare summits -pricked the sky. Thick and soft, the trees clothed all. Their feathery -presence filled the air. The clatter of the train seemed muffled, and -the gathering shadows below the eastern escarpments took on that rich -black hue that ancient forests lend to the very atmosphere above them. -We passed into a world where branches, moss and flowers muted every -sound with a sense of undisturbable peace. The softness of great age -reigned with delicious silence. The very engine puffed uphill on wheels -of plush.</p> - -<p>Occasional hamlets contributed a few wood-cutters by way of passengers; -strips of half-cleared valley revealed here and there a farm-house with -dark brown walls and spreading roof; little <em>sentiers</em> slipped through -the pine trees to yet further recesses of unfrequented woods; but -nowhere did I see a modern building, a country house, nor any dwelling -that might be occupied by other than simple peasant folk. Suggestion of -tourists there was absolutely none; no trees striped blue and yellow by -Improvement Committees; no inns with central-heating and tin banners -stating that touring clubs endorsed them; no advertisements at all; -only this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> air of remote and kindly peace, the smoke of peat fires, and -the odour of living woods stealing upon the dusk.</p> - -<p>The feeling grew that I crossed a threshold into a region that lay -outside the common happenings of the world; life here must be very -gentle, wonderful, distinguished, and things might come to pass that -would be true yet hard to explain by the standards of the busy cities. -Those cities, indeed, seemed very far away, unreal, and certainly -unimportant. For the leisurely train itself was almost make-believe, -and the station officials mere uniformed automata. The normal world, in -a word, began to fade a little. I was aware once more of that bigger -region in which Julius LeVallon lived—the cosmic point of view. The -spell of our early days revived, worked on my nerves and thought, -altering my outlook sensibly even at this early stage of my return.</p> - -<p>The autumn afternoon was already on the wane when at length I -reached C——, an untidy little watch-making town, and according to -instructions left the train. I searched the empty platform in vain for -any sign of Julius. Instead of the tall, familiar figure, a little -dark-faced man stood abruptly before me, stared into my face with the -questioning eyes of a child or animal, and exclaimed bluntly enough -“<em>Monsieur le professeur?</em>” We were alone on the deserted platform, the -train already swallowed by the forest, no porter, of course, visible, -and signs of civilisation generally somewhat scanty.</p> - -<p>This man, sent by Julius, made a curious impression on me as I gave -him my bag and prepared to follow him to the cart I saw standing -outside the station. His mode of addressing me seemed incongruous. Of -peasant type, with black moustaches far too big for his features, and -bushy eyebrows reminding me of tree-lichen, there was something in his -simplicity of gesture and address that suggested a faithful animal. His -voice was not unlike a growl; he was delighted to have found me, but -did not accept me yet; he showed his pleasure in his honest smile and -in certain quick, jerky movements of the body that made me think how -a clever caricaturist could see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> the dog in him. Yet in his keen and -steady eyes there was another look that did not encourage levity; one -would not lightly trifle with him. There was something about the alert -little fellow that insisted on respect, and a touch of the barbaric -counteracted the comedy of the aggressive eyebrows and moustache. In -the eyes, unflinching yet respectful, I fancied to detect another -thing as well: a nameless expression seen sometimes in the eyes of men -who have known uncommon things—habitual amazement grown slowly to -unwilling belief. He was a man, certainly, who would serve his master -to the death and ask no questions.</p> - -<p>But also he would not answer questions; I could get nothing out of him, -as the springless cart drove slowly up the steep mountain road behind -the pair of sturdy horses. <em>Oui</em> and <em>non</em> and <em>peut-être</em> summed -up his conversational powers, till I gave up trying and lapsed into -silence. Perhaps he had not “passed” me yet, not quite approved me. He -was just the sort of faithful, self-contained servant Julius required, -no doubt, and, as a conductor into mysterious adventure, a by no means -inadequate figure. Name, apparently, he had also none, for Julius, as -I learned later, referred to him as simply “he.” But my imagination -instantly christened him “The Dog-Man,” and as such the inscrutable -fellow lives in my memory to this day. He seemed just one degree above -the animal stage.</p> - -<p>But while thought was busy with a dozen speculations, the dusk had -fallen steadily, and the character of the country, I saw, had changed. -It was more rugged and inhospitable, the valleys narrower, the forests -very deep, with taller and more solemn trees, and no signs anywhere of -the axe. An hour ago we had left the main road and turned up a rough, -deep-rutted track that only the feet of oxen seemed to have used. We -moved in comparative gloom, though far overhead the heights shone still -with the gold of sunset. For a long time we had seen no peasant huts, -no sign of habitation, nor passed a single human being. Wood-cutters -and charcoal-burners apparently had not penetrated here, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> the -track, I gathered, was used in summer only and led to some lonely farm -among the upper pastures. It was very silent; no wind stirred the sea -of branches; no animal life showed itself; and the only moving things -beside ourselves were the jays that now and again flew across the path -or announced their invisible presence in the woods by raucous screaming.</p> - -<p>Although the ceaseless jolting of the cart was severe, the long -journey most fatiguing, I was sensible of the deep calm that brooded -everywhere. After the bluster of the aggressive Alps, this peaceful -Jura stole on the spirit with a subtle charm. Something whispered that -I was not alone, but that a friendly touch of welcome pervaded the cool -recesses of these wooded hills. The sense of hostile isolation inspired -by the snowy peaks, that faint dismay one knows sometimes at the foot -of towering summits, was wholly absent here. I felt myself, not alien -to these rolling mountains, but akin. I was known and hospitably -admitted, not merely ignored, nor let in at my own grave risk. The -spirit of the mountains here was kind.</p> - -<p>Yet that I was aware of this at all made me realise the presence of -another thing as well: It was in myself, not in these velvet valleys. -For, while the charm of the scenery acted as a sedative, I realised -that something alert in me noted the calming influence and welcomed -it. <em>That</em> did not go to sleep—it resolutely kept awake. A faint -instinct of alarm had been stimulated, if ever so slightly, from the -moment I left the train and touched the atmosphere of my silent guide, -the “Dog-Man.” It was, of course, that he brought his master nearer. -Julius and I should presently meet again, shake hands, look into each -other’s eyes—I should hear his voice and share again the glamour of -his personality. Also there would be—a third.</p> - -<p>It was an element, obviously, in a process of readjustment of my -being which had begun the moment I received his letter; it had -increased while I sat in the Bâle hotel and jotted down those early -recollections—an ingredient in the new grouping of emotions and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> -sensations constituting myself which received the attack, so to speak, -of what came later. My consciousness was slowly changing.</p> - -<p>Yet this, I think, was all I felt at the moment: a perfectly natural -anticipatory excitement, a stirring wonder, and behind them both a -hint of shrinking that was faint uneasiness. It was the thought of the -woman that caused the last, the old premonition that something grave -involving the three of us would happen. The potent influences of my -youth were already at work again.</p> - -<p>My entrance into the secluded spot Julius had chosen came unexpectedly; -we were suddenly upon it; the effect was almost dramatic. The last -farm-house had been left behind an hour or more, and we had been -winding painfully up a steep ascent that led through a tunnel of dark, -solemn trees, when the forest abruptly stopped, and a little, cup-like -valley lay before me, bounded on three sides by jagged limestone -ridges. Open to the sky like some lonely flower, it lay hidden and -remote upon this topmost plateau, difficult of access to the world. -I saw cleared meadows of emerald green beneath the peeping stars; a -stream ran gurgling past my feet; the surface of a little lake held the -shadows of the encircling cliffs; and at the further end, beneath the -broken outline of the ridges, lights twinkled in a peasant’s châlet.</p> - -<p>The effect was certainly of Fairyland. The stillness and cool air, -after the closeness of the heavy forest, seemed to bring the stars -much nearer. There was a clean, fresh perfume; the atmosphere crystal -clear, the calm profound. I felt a little private world about me, -self-contained, and impressive with a quiet dignity of its own. -Unknown, unspoilt, serene and exquisite, it lay hidden here for some -purpose that vulgar intrusion might not discover. If ever an enchanted -valley existed, it was here before my eyes.</p> - -<p>“So this is the chosen place—this isolated spot of beauty!” My heart -leaped to think that Julius stood already within reach of my voice, -possibly of my sight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> as well. No meeting-place, surely, could have -been more suitable.</p> - -<p>The cart moved slowly, and the horses, steam rising from their heated -bodies against the purple trees, stepped softly upon the meadow-land. -The sound of hoofs and wheels was left behind, we silently moved up the -gentle slope towards the lights. Night stepped with us from the hills; -the forest paused and waited at a distance; only the faint creaking -of the wheels upon damp grass and the singing of the little stream -were audible. The air grew sharp with upland perfumes. We passed the -diminutive lake that mirrored the first stars. And a curious feeling -reached me from the sky and from the lonely ridges; a nameless emotion -caught my heart a moment; some thrill of high, unearthly loveliness, -familiar as a dream yet gone again before it could be seized, mirrored -itself in the depths of me like those buried stars within the -water—when, suddenly, a figure detached itself from the background -of trees and cliffs, and towards me over the dew-drenched grass -moved—Julius LeVallon.</p> - -<p>He came like a figure from the sky, the forest, the distant ridges. -The spirit of this marvellous spot came with him. He seemed its -incarnation. Whether he first drew me from the cart, or whether I -sprang down to meet him, is impossible to say, for in that big moment -the thousand threads that bound us together with their separate -tensions slipped into a single cable of overwhelming strength. We stood -upon the wet meadow, close to one another, hands firmly clasped, eyes -gazing into eyes.</p> - -<p>“Julius—it’s really you—at last!” I found to say—then his reply in -the old, unchanging voice that made me tremble a little as I heard -it: “I knew you would come—friend of a million years!” He laughed a -little; I laughed too.</p> - -<p>“I promised.” It seemed incredible to me that I had ever hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Ages ago,” I heard his answer. It was like the singing of the stream -that murmured past our feet. “Ages ago.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span></p> - -<p>I was aware that he let go my hand. We were moving through the dripping -grass, crossing and recrossing the little stream. The mountains rose -dark and strong about us. I heard the cart lumbering away with creaking -wheels towards the barn. Across the heavens the stars trailed their -golden pattern more and more thickly. I saw them gleaming in the -unruffled lake. I smelt the odour of wood-smoke that came from the -châlet chimney.</p> - -<p>We walked in silence. Those stars, those changeless hills, deep woods -and singing rivulet—primitive and eternal things—accompanied us. They -were the right witnesses of our meeting. And a night-wind, driving the -dusk towards the west, woke in the forest and came out to touch our -faces. Splendour and loneliness closed about us, heralding Powers of -Nature that were here not yet explained away.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> -<h3><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<em>We cannot limit the types, superhuman or subhuman, that may -obtain. We can ‘set no bounds to the existence or powers of -sentient beings’—a consideration of the highest importance</em>, -as well, perhaps, practical as theoretical.... <em>The discovery -of Superhumans of an exalted kind may be only a question of -time, and the attainment of knowledge on this head one of the -most important achievements in the history of races that are to -come.</em>”—“The Individual and Reality” (Fawcett).</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Something</span> certainly tightened in my throat as we went across that -soaking grass towards the building that was half châlet, half -farm-house, with steep, heavy roof and wide veranda. The lights -beckoned to us through the little windows. I saw a shadow slip across -the casement window on the upper floor. And my question was out of its -own accord before I could prevent it. My mind held in that moment no -other thought at all; my pulses quickened.</p> - -<p>“So, Julius, you have—found her?”</p> - -<p>And he answered as though no interval of years had been; as -though still we stood in the dawn upon the steps of the Edinburgh -lodging-house. The tone was matter of fact and without emotion:</p> - -<p>“She is with me here—my wife—eager to see you at last.”</p> - -<p>The words dropped down between us like lightning into the earth, and -a sense of chill, so faint I hardly recognised it, passed over me. -Emotion followed instantly, yet emotion, again, so vague, so odd, so -distant in some curious way, that I found no name for it. A shadow as, -perhaps, of disappointment fell on my thoughts. Yet, assuredly, I had -expected no different statement. He had said the right and natural -thing. He had found the woman of his dream and married her. What -lurked, I wondered nervously, behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> my lame congratulations? Why was -I baffled and ashamed? What made my speech come forth with a slight -confusion between the thought and its utterance? For—almost—I had -been about to say another thing, and had stopped myself just in time.</p> - -<p>“And she—remembers?” I asked quickly—point-blank, and bluntly -enough—and felt mortified the same instant by my premature curiosity. -Before I could modify my words, or alter them into something less -aggressively inquisitive, he turned and faced me, holding my arm to -make me look at him. His skin wore the familiar marble pallor as of -old; I saw it shine against the dark building where the light from the -window caught it.</p> - -<p>“Me?” he asked quietly, “or—you?”</p> - -<p>“Anything,” I stammered, “anything at all of—of the past, I meant. -Forgive me for asking so abruptly; I——”</p> - -<p>The words froze on my lips at the expression that came into his face. -He merely looked at me and smiled. No more than that, so far as -accurate description goes, and yet enough to make my heart stop dead as -a stone, then start thumping against my ribs as though a paddle-wheel -were loose in me. For it was not Julius in that instant who looked at -me. His white skin masked another; behind and through his eyes this -other stared straight into my own; and this other was familiar to me, -yet unknown. The look disappeared again as instantaneously as it came.</p> - -<p>“You shall judge for yourself,” I heard, as he drew me on towards the -house.</p> - -<p>His tone made further pointed questioning impossible, rousing my -curiosity higher than ever before. Again I saw the woman in my -imagination; I pictured her as a figure half remembered. As the shadow -had slid past the casement of the upper floor, so her outline slipped -now across a rising screen of memory not entirely obliterated.</p> - -<p>The presentment was even vivid: she would be superb. I saw her of the -Greek goddess type, with calm, inscrutable eyes, majestic mien, the -suggestion of strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> knowledge in her quiet language and uncommon -gestures. She would be genuinely distinguished, remarkable in mind -as well as in appearance. Already, as we crossed the veranda, the -thrill of anticipation caught me. She would be standing in the hall -to greet us, or, seated before an open fire of logs, would rise out -of the shadows to meet the friend of whom she had doubtless “heard so -much,” and with whom such strange things were now to be accomplished. -The words Julius next actually uttered, accordingly, reached me with -a sense of disappointment that was sharp, and the entire picture -collapsed like a house of cards. The reaction touched my sense of -comedy almost.</p> - -<p>“I think she is still preparing your room,” he said. “I had just taken -the water up when I heard your cart. We have little help, or need for -help. A girl from the farm in the lower valley brings butter sometimes. -We do practically everything ourselves.” I murmured something, courtesy -keeping a smile in check; and then he added, “We chose this solitude on -purpose, of course—she chose it, rather—and you are the first visitor -since we came here months ago. We were only just ready for you; it was -good that you were close—that it was so easy for you to get here.”</p> - -<p>“I am looking forward immensely to seeing Mrs. LeVallon,” I replied, -but such a queer confusion of times and places had fallen on my mind -that my tongue almost said “to seeing her again.”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “She will be with us in the morning,” he added quietly, “if -not to-night.”</p> - -<p>This simple exchange of commonplaces let down the tension of my -emotions pleasantly. He turned towards me as he spoke, and for the -first time, beneath the hanging oil lamp, I noted the signature of the -intervening years. There was a look of power in eyes and mouth that had -not been there previously. I was aware of a new distance between us, -and a new respect came with it. Julius had “travelled.” He seemed to -look down upon me from a height. But, at the same time, the picture his -brief words conveyed had the effect of restoring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> me to my normal world -again. For nothing more banal could have been imagined, and side by -side with the chagrin to my sense of the theatrical ran also a distinct -relief. It came as a corrective to the loneliness and grandeur of the -setting, and checked the suggestion lying behind the hint that they -were “only just ready” for my coming.</p> - -<p>My emotions sank comfortably to a less inflated level. I murmured -something politely as we passed into the so-called “sitting-room” -together, and for a moment the atmosphere of my own practical world -came in strongly with me. The sense of the incongruous inevitably was -touched. The immense fabric of my friend’s beliefs seemed in that -instant to tremble a little. That the woman he—<em>we</em>—had been waiting -for through centuries, this “old soul” taught of the ancient wisdom and -aware of august, forgotten worship, should be “making a bed upstairs” -woke in me a sense of healthy amusement. Julius took up the water! She -was engaged in menial acts! A girl brought butter from a distant farm! -And I could have laughed—but for one other thing that lay behind and -within the comedy. For that other thing was—pathos. There was a kind -of yearning pain at the heart of it: a pain whose origins were too -remote to be discoverable by the normal part of me.</p> - -<p>It touched the poetry in me, too. For after the first disturbing -effect—that it was not adequate—I felt slowly another thing: that -this commonplace meeting was far more likely to be <em>true</em> than the -dramatic sort I had anticipated. It was natural, it was simple; all big -adventures of the soul begin in a quiet way. Obviously, as yet, the two -selves in me were not yet comfortably readjusted.</p> - -<p>I became aware, too, that Julius was what I can only call somewhere -less human than before—more impersonal. He talked, he acted, he even -looked as a figure might outside our world. I had no longer insight -into his being as before. His life lay elsewhere, expresses it best -perhaps. I can hardly present him as a man of flesh and blood. Emotion -broke through so rarely.</p> - -<p>And our talk that evening together—for Mrs. LeVallon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> put in no -appearance—was ordinary, too. Julius, of course, as ever, used phrases -that belonged to the world peculiarly his own, but he said nothing -startling in the sense I had expected. No dramatic announcement came. -He took things for granted in the way he always did, assuming my -beliefs and theories were his own, and that my scepticism was merely -due to the “mind” in me to-day. We had some supper together, a bowl of -bread and milk the man brought in, and we talked of the intervening -years as naturally as might be—but for this phraseology he favoured. -When the man said “good night,” Julius smiled kindly at him, and the -fellow made a gesture of delight as though the attention meant far more -to him than money. He reminded me again irresistibly, yet in no sense -comically, of a faithful and devoted animal. Julius had patted him! It -was delightful. An inarticulateness, as of the animal world, belonged -to him. His rare words came out with effort, almost with difficulty. -He looked his master straight in the eye, listened to orders with a -personal interest mere servants never have, and, without a trace of -servility in face or manner, hurried off gladly to fulfil them. The -distress in the eyes alone still puzzled me.</p> - -<p>“You have a treasure there,” I said. “He seems devoted to you.”</p> - -<p>“A young soul,” he said, “in a human body for the first time, still -with the innocence and simplicity of the recent animal stage about his -awakening self-consciousness. It is unmistakable....”</p> - -<p>“What sleeps in the vegetable, dreams in the animal, wakes in the man,” -I said, remembering Leibnitz. “I’m glad we’ve left the earlier stages -behind us.” His explanation interested me. “But that expression in his -eyes,” I asked, “that look of searching, almost of anxiety?”</p> - -<p>Julius replied thoughtfully. “My atmosphere acts upon him as a kind -of forcing-house, perhaps. He is dimly aware of knowledge that lies, -at present, too far beyond him—and yet he reaches out for it. -Instinctive, but not yet intuitional. The privilege brings terror.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> -Opportunities of growth so swift and concentrated involve bewilderment, -even pain.”</p> - -<p>“Pain?” I queried, interested as of old.</p> - -<p>“Development is nothing but a series of little deaths. The soul passes -so quickly to new stages.” He looked up searchingly into my face. “We -knew that privilege once,” he added significantly; “we, too, knew -special teaching.”</p> - -<p>And, though at the moment I purposely ignored this reference to our -“Temple Days,” I understood that this man’s neighbourhood might, -indeed, have an unusual and stimulating effect upon a simple, ignorant -type of mind. Even in my own case his presence gave me furiously to -think. The “Dog-Man,” the more I observed him, was little more than a -faithful creature standing on his hind legs with considerable surprise -and enjoyment that he was able to do so—that “little more” being quite -possibly <em>self</em>-consciousness. He showed his teeth when I met him -at the station, whereas, now that I was accepted by his master, his -approval was unlimited. He gave willing service in the form of love.</p> - -<p>While Julius continued speaking, as though nothing else existed at -the moment, I observed him carefully. My eyes assessed the changes in -the outward “expression” of himself. He was thinner, slighter than -before; there was an increased balance and assurance in his manner; a -poise not present in our earlier days; but to say that he looked older -seemed almost a misuse of language. Though the eyes were stronger, -steadier, the lines in the skin more deeply cut, the outline of the -features chiselled with more decision, these, even in combination, -added no signature of age to the general expression of high beauty that -was his. The years had not coarsened, but etherealised the face. Two -other things, moreover, impressed me: the texture of skin and flesh had -refined away, so that the inner light of his enthusiasm shone through; -and—there was a marked increase in what I must term the “feel” of his -immediate atmosphere or presence. Always electric and alive, it now -seemed doubly charged. Against that dark inner screen where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> the mind -visualises pictorially, he rose in terms of radiant strength. Immense -potency lay suppressed in him; Powers—spiritual or Nature Powers—were -in attendance. He had acquired a momentum that was in some sense both -natural and super-human. It was not unlike the sense of power that -great natural scenes evoke in those who are receptive—mountains, -landscapes, forests. It was elemental. I felt him immense, at the head -of an invisible procession, as it were, a procession from the sky, the -heights, the woods, the stars.</p> - -<p>And a touch of eeriness stole over me. I was aware of strange vitality -in this lonely valley; and I was aware of it—through him. I stood, as -yet, upon the outer fringe. Its remoteness from the modern world was -not a remoteness of space alone, but of—condition.</p> - -<p>There was, however, another thing impossible to ignore—that somewhere -in this building there moved a figure already for me mysterious -and half legendary. Upstairs, not many feet away from us, her step -occasionally audible by the creaking of the boards, she moved, -breathing, thinking, listening, hearing our voices, almost within -touching distance of our hands. There was a hint of the fabulous in it -somewhere.</p> - -<p>And, realising her near presence, I felt a curious emotion rising -through me as from a secret spring. Its character, veiled by interest -and natural anticipation, remained without a name. I could not describe -it to myself even. Each time the thought of meeting her, that she was -close, each time the sound of her soft footfall overhead was audible, -this emotion rose in me pleasurably, yet with dread behind it somewhere -lurking. I caught it stirring; the stream of it went out to this -woman I had never seen with the certain aim of intuitive direction; I -surprised it in the act. But always something blocked it, hiding its -name away. It escaped analysis. And, never more than instantaneous, -passing the very moment it was born, it seemed to me that the opposing -force that blocked it thus had to do with the man who was my host -and my companion. It emanated from him—this objecting force. Julius -checked it; though not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> with deliberate consciousness—he prevented my -discovery of its nature. There was uncommon and mysterious sweetness in -it, a sweetness as of long mislaid romance that lifted the heart. Yet -it returned each time upon me, blank and unrewarded.</p> - -<p>It was noticeable, moreover, that our talk avoided the main object -of my presence here. LeVallon talked freely of other things, of the -“Dog-Man,” of myself—I gave him a quick sketch of my life in the long -interval—of anything and everything but the purpose of my coming. -There was, doubtless, awkwardness on my side, since my instinct was -not to take my visit heavily, but to regard the fulfilment of my -old-time pledge as an adventure, even a fantasy, rather than the -serious acceptance of a grave “experiment.” His reluctance, yet, was -noticeable. He told me little or nothing of himself by way of exchange.</p> - -<p>“To-morrow, when you are thoroughly rested from your journey,” he met -my least approach to the matter that occupied our deepest thoughts; -or—“later, when you’ve had a little time to get acclimatised. You must -let this place soak into you. Rest and sleep and take things easy; -there is no hurry—here.” Until I realised that he wished to establish -a natural sympathy between my being and the enchanted valley, to avoid -anything in the nature of surprise or shock which might disturb a -desired harmony, and that, in fact, the absence of his wife and his -silence about himself were both probably intentional. Conditions were -to flow in upon me of their own accord and naturally, thus reducing -possible hostility to a minimum. Before we rose to go to bed an hour -later this had become a conviction in me. It was all thought out -beforehand.</p> - -<p>We stood a moment on the veranda to taste the keen, sweet air and see -the dark mountains blocked against the stars. The sound of running -water was all we heard. No lights, of course, showed anywhere. The -meadows, beneath thin, frosty mist, lay very still. But the valley -somehow rushed at me; it seemed so charged to the brim with stimulating -activity and life. Something felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> on the move in it. I stood in the -presence of a crowd, waiting to combine with energies latent in it. I -was aware of the idea of co-operation almost.</p> - -<p>“One of the rare places,” he said significantly when I remarked upon it -cautiously, “where all is clean and open still. Humanity has been here, -but humanity of the helpful kind. We went to infinite trouble to find -it.”</p> - -<p>It was the first time he had come so near to the actual subject. I was -aware he watched me, although his eyes were turned towards the darkness -of the encircling forest.</p> - -<p>“And—your wife likes it too?” For though I remembered that she had -“chosen it,” its loneliness must surely have dismayed an ordinary woman.</p> - -<p>Still with his eyes turned out across the valley, he replied, “She -chose it. Yes”—he hesitated slightly—“she likes it, though not -always——” He broke off abruptly, still without looking at me, then -added, as he came a little nearer, “But we both agree—we <em>know</em> it is -the right place for us.” That “us,” I felt certain, included myself as -well.</p> - -<p>I did not press for explanation at the moment. I touched upon another -thing.</p> - -<p>“Humanity, you say, has been here! I should have thought some virgin -corner of the earth would have suited your—purpose—better?” Then, as -he did not answer for a moment, I added: “This is surely an ordinary -peasant’s house that you’ve made comfortable?”</p> - -<p>He looked at me. A breath of wind went past us. I had the ghostly -feeling someone had been listening; and a faint shiver ran across my -nerves.</p> - -<p>“A peasant’s, yes, but not”—and he smiled—“an ordinary peasant. We -found here an old man with his sons; they, or their forbears, had lived -in isolation for generations in this valley; they were ‘superstitious’ -in the sense of knowing Nature and understanding her. They <em>believed</em>, -though in an imperfect and degraded form, what was once a living truth. -They sold out to me quite willingly and are now established in the -plains below. In this loneliness, away from modern ‘knowledge,’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> they -loved what surrounded them, and in that sense their love was worship. -They felt-with the forests, with streams and mountains, with clouds and -sky, with dawn and sunset, with the darkness too.” He looked about him -as he said it, and my eyes followed the direction of his own across the -night. Again the valley stirred and moved throughout its whole expanse. -“They also,” Julius continued in a lower tone, his face closer than -before, “felt-with the lightning and the wind.”</p> - -<p>I could have sworn some subtle change went through the surrounding -darkness as he said the words. Fire and wind sprang at me, so vivid was -their entrance into my thought. Again that slight shudder ran tingling -up my spine.</p> - -<p>“The place,” he continued, “is therefore already prepared to some -extent, for the channels that we need are partly open. The veil is here -unthickened. We can work with less resistance.”</p> - -<p>“There is certainly peace,” I agreed, “and an uplifting sense of -beauty.”</p> - -<p>“You feel it?” he asked quickly.</p> - -<p>“I feel extraordinarily and delightfully alive,” I admitted truthfully.</p> - -<p>Whereupon he turned to me with a still more significant rejoinder:</p> - -<p>“Because that which worship and consecration-ceremonies ought to -accomplish for churches—are meant to accomplish, rather—has never -been here <em>undone</em>. All places were holy ground until men closed the -channels with their unbelief and thus defiled them by cutting them off -from the life about them.”</p> - -<p>I heard a window softly closing above us; we turned and went indoors. -Julius put the lamps out one by one, taking a candle to show me up the -stairs. We went along the wooden passage. We passed several doors, -beneath one of which I saw a line of light. My own room was at the -further end, simply, almost barely, furnished, with just the actual -necessaries. He paused at the threshold, shook my hand, said a short -“good night,” and left me, closing the door behind him carefully. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> -heard his step go softly down the passage. A door in the distance also -opened and closed. Then complete silence hushed the entire house about -me, yet a silence that was listening and alive. No ancient, turreted -castle, with ivied walls and dungeons, with forsaken banqueting-hall -or ghostly corridors, could possibly have felt more haunted than this -peasant’s châlet in the Jura fastnesses.</p> - -<p>For a considerable time I sat at my open window, thinking; and yet not -thinking so much, perhaps, as—relaxing. I was aware that my mind had -been at high tension the entire day, almost on guard—as though seeking -unconsciously to protect itself. Ever since the morning I had been on -the alert against quasi-attack, and only now did I throw down my arms -and abandon myself without reserve. Something I had been afraid of had -shown itself friendly after all. A feeling of security stole over me; -I was safe; gigantic powers were round me, oddly close, yet friendly, -provided I, too, was friendly. It was a singular feeling of being -helpless, yet cared for. The valley took hold of me and all my little -human forces. To set myself against it would be somehow dangerous, -but to go with it, adopting its overmastering stride, was safety. -This became suddenly clear to me—that I must be sympathetic and that -hostility on my part might involve disaster.</p> - -<p>Here, apparently, was the first symptom of that power which Julius -declared was derived from “feeling-with.” I began to understand another -thing as well; I recalled his choice of words—that the veil hereabouts -was “unthickened” and the channels “open.” He did not say the veil was -thin, the channels cleared. It was in its native, primitive condition.</p> - -<p>I sat by the window, letting the valley pour through and over me. It -flooded my being with its calm and beauty. The stars were very bright -above the ridges; small clouds passed westwards; the water sang and -tinkled; the cup-like hollow had its secrets, but it told them. I had -never known night so wonderfully articulate. Power brooded here. I felt -my blood quicken with the sense of kinship.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span></p> - -<p>And the little room with its unvarnished pine-boards that held a -certain forest perfume, was comforting too; the odour of peat fires -still clung to the darkened rafters overhead; the candle, in its -saucer-like receptacle of wood, gave just the simple, old-fashioned -light that was appropriate. Bodily fatigue made bed exceedingly -welcome, though it was long before I fell asleep. Figures, at first, -stole softly in across the night and peered at me—Julius, pale and -rapt, remote from the modern world; the silent “Dog-Man,” with those -eyes of questioning wonder and half-disguised distress. And another -ghostly figure stole in too, though without a face I could decipher; -a woman whom the long, faultless balance of the ages delivered, with -the rest of us, into the keeping of this lonely spot for some deep -purpose of our climbing souls. Their outlines hovered, mingled with the -shadows, and withdrew.</p> - -<p>And a certain change in myself, though perhaps not definitely noted at -the time, was apparent too—I found in my heart a singular readiness -to believe. While sleep crept nearer, and reason dropped a lid, -there assuredly was in me, as part of something accepted naturally, -the likelihood that LeVallon’s attitude was an aspect of forgotten -truth. Veiled in Nature’s operations, perchance directing them, and -particularly in spots of loneliness such as this, dwelt those mighty -elemental Potencies he held were accessible to humanity. A phrase -from some earlier reading floated back to me, as though deliberately -supplied—not that Nature “works towards what are called ‘ends,’ but -that it was possible or rather probable, that ‘ends’ which implied -conscious superhuman activities, are being realised.” The sentence, for -some reason, had remained in my memory. When life was simpler, closer -to Nature, some such doctrine may have been objectively verifiable, and -worship, in the sense that Julius used the word, might well promise to -restore the grandeur of forgotten beliefs which should make men as the -gods....</p> - -<p>With the delightful feeling that in this untainted valley, the woods, -the mountains, the very winds and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> stormy lightnings, were yet but -the physical vehicle of powers that expressed intelligence and true -<em>being</em>, I passed from dozing into sleep, the cool outside air touching -my eyelids with the beauty of the starry Jura night. An older, earlier -type of consciousness—though I did not phrase it to myself thus—was -asserting itself and taking charge of me. The spell was on my heart.</p> - -<p>Yet the human touch came last of all, following me into the complicated -paths of slumber, and haunting me as with half-recovered memories -of far-off, enchanted days. Uncommon visions met my descending or -ascending consciousness, so that while brain and body slept, some -deeper part of me went travelling swiftly backwards. I knew the old -familiar feeling that the whole of me did not sleep ... and, though -remembering nothing definite, my first thought on awakening was the -same as my final thought on falling into slumber: What manner of -marvellous woman would <em>she</em> prove to be?</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> -<h3><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h3> -</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>Thy voice is like to music heard ere birth,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Some spirit lute touched on a spirit sea;</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Thy face remembered is from other worlds.</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>It has been died for, though I know not when,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>It has been sung of, though I know not where.</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>It has the strangeness of the luring West,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>And of sad sea-horizons; beside thee</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>I am aware of other times and lands,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Of birth far back, of lives in many stars.</em>”—“Marpessa” (Stephen Phillips).</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">During</span> sleep, however, the heavier emotions had sunk to the bottom, -the lighter had risen to the top. I woke with a feeling of vigour, and -with the sense called “common” distinctly in the ascendant. Through the -open window came sunshine in a flood, the crisp air sparkled. I could -taste it from my bed. Youth ran in my veins and ten years seemed to -drop from my back as I sprang up and thrust my face into the radiant -morning. Drawing a deep draught into my lungs, I must at the same time -have unconsciously exclaimed, for the peasant girl gathering vegetables -below—the garden, such as it was, merged into the pastures—looked -up startled. She had been singing to herself. I withdrew my pyjamaed -figure hurriedly, while she, as hurriedly, let drop the skirts the dew -had made her lift so high; and when I peeped a moment later, she had -gone. I, too, felt inclined to sing with happiness, so invigorating was -the clear brilliance of the opening day. A joyful irresponsibility, as -of boyhood, coursed in my tingling blood. Everything in this enchanted -valley seemed young and vigorous; the stream ran gaily past the shining -trees; the meadows glistened; the very mountains wore a lustre as of -life that ran within their solid frames.</p> - -<p>It was impossible to harbour the slightest thought of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> dread before -such peace and beauty; all ominous forebodings fled away; this joy and -strength of Nature brought in life. Even the “Dog-Man” smiled with eyes -unclouded when, a little later, he brought a small pail of boiling -water, and informed me that there was a pool in the forest close at -hand where I could bathe. He nosed about the room—only thus can I -describe his friendly curiosity for my welfare—fussed awkwardly with -my boots and clothes, looked frankly into my eyes with an expression -that said plainly “How are <em>you</em> this morning? I’m splendid!” grunted, -sniffed, almost wagged his tail for pleasure—and trotted out. And he -went, I declare, as though he had heard a rabbit and must be after it. -The laughter in me was only just suppressed, for I could have sworn -that he expected me to pat him, with the remark “Good fellow! Sik ’em, -then!” or words to that effect.</p> - -<p>The secluded valley, walled-in from the blustering world like some -wild, primitive garden, was drenched in sunshine by the time I went -downstairs; the limestone cliffs a mile away of quite dazzling -brilliance; and the pine woods across the meadow-land scented the whole -interior of the little châlet. But for stray wisps of autumn mist -that still clung along the borders of the stream, it might have been -a day in June the mountains still held prisoner. My heart leaped with -the beauty. This lonely region of woods and mountain tops suggested -the presence of some Nature Deity that presided over it, and as I -stood a moment on the veranda, I turned at a sound of footsteps to -see the figure of my imagination face to face. “If <em>she</em> is of equal -splendour!” flashed instantly through my mind. For Julius wore the -glory of the morning in his eyes, the neck was bare and the shirt a -little open; standing there erect in his mountain clothes, he was -as like the proverbial Greek god as any painter could have possibly -desired.</p> - -<p>“Whether I slept well?” I answered his inquiry. “Why, Julius, I feel -positively like a boy again. This place has worked magic on me while I -slept. There’s the idea in me that one must live for ever.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span></p> - -<p>And, even while I said it, my eyes glanced over his shoulder into the -hall for a sight of someone who any moment might appear. Excitement was -high in me.</p> - -<p>Julius quietly held my hand in his own firm grasp a second.</p> - -<p>“Life came to you in sleep,” he said. “I told you—I warned you, -the channels here were open and easily accessible. All power—all -powers—everywhere are natural. Our object is to hold them, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“You mean control them?” I said, still watching the door behind him.</p> - -<p>“They visit the least among us; they touch us, and are gone. The -essential is to harness them—in this case before they harness -us—again.”</p> - -<p>I made no reply. The other excitement was too urgent in me.</p> - -<p>Linking his arm in mine, he led me towards a corner of the main room, -half hall, half kitchen, where a white tablecloth promised breakfast. -The “man” was already busying himself to and fro with plates and a -gleaming metal pot that steamed. I smelt coffee and the fragrance -of baked bread. But I listened half-heartedly to my host’s curious -words because every minute I expected the door to open. There was a -nervousness in me what I should find to say to such a woman when she -came.</p> - -<p>Was there, as well, among my bolder feelings, a faint suspicion of -something else—something so slight and vague it hardly left a trace, -while yet I was aware that it had been there? I could not honestly say. -I only knew that, again, there stirred about my heart unconsciously -a delicate spider-web of resentment, envy, disapproval—call it what -one may, since it was too slight to own a definite name—that seemed -to wake some ghost of injustice, of a grievance almost, in the hidden -depths of me. It passed, unexplained, untraceable. Perhaps I smothered -it, perhaps I left it unacknowledged. I know not. So elusive an emotion -I could not retain a second, far less label. “Julius has found her; she -is his,” was the clear thought that followed it. No more than that. And -yet—like the shadow of a leaf, it floated down upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> me, darkening, -though almost imperceptibly, some unknown corner of my heart.</p> - -<p>And, remembering my manners, I asked after her indisposition, while he -laughed and insisted upon our beginning breakfast; she would presently -join us; I should see her for myself. He looked so happy that I yielded -to the momentary temptation.</p> - -<p>“Julius,” I said, by way of compliment and somewhat late -congratulation, “she must be wonderful. I’m so—so very pleased—for -you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, as he poured coffee and boiling milk into my wooden -bowl, “and we have waited long. But the opportunity has come at last, -and this time we shall not let it slip.”</p> - -<p>The simple words were not at all the answer I expected. There was a -mingling of relief and anxiety in his voice; I remembered that she “did -not always like it here,” and I wondered again what my “understanding” -was to be that he had promised would “come later.” What determined her -change of mood? Why did she sometimes like it, and sometimes not like -it? Was it loneliness, or was it due to things that—happened? Any -moment now she would be in the room, holding my hand, looking into my -eyes, expecting from me words of greeting, speaking to me. I should -hear her voice. Twice I turned quickly at the sound of an opening -door, only to find myself face to face with the “man”; but at length -came a sound that was indisputably the rustle of skirts, and, with -a quickening of the heart, I pushed my plate away, and rose from my -chair, turning half way to greet her.</p> - -<p>Disappointment met me again, however, for this time it was merely -the peasant girl I had seen from my window; and once more I sat down -abruptly, covering my confusion with a laugh and feeling like a -schoolboy surprised in a foolish mistake. And then a movement from -Julius opposite startled me. He had risen from his seat. There was a -new expression on his face, an extraordinary expression—observation -the most alert imaginable, anxiety, question, the tension of various -deep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> emotions oddly mingled. He watched me keenly. He watched us both.</p> - -<p>“My wife,” he said quietly, as the figure advanced towards us. Then, -turning to her: “And this is my friend, Professor Mason.” He indicated -myself.</p> - -<p>I rose abruptly, startled and dismayed, nearly upsetting the chair -behind me in my clumsiness. The “Professor Mason” sounded ludicrous, -almost as ludicrous as the “Mrs. LeVallon” he had not uttered. I -stared. She stared. There was a moment of blank silence. Disappointment -petrified me. There was no distinction, there was no beauty. She was -tall and slim, and the face, of a commonplace order, was slightly -pockmarked. I forgot all manners.</p> - -<p>She was the first to recover. We both laughed. But if there was -nervousness of confused emotion in my laugh, there was in hers a happy -pleasure, frankly and naturally expressed.</p> - -<p>“How do you do, sir—Professor?” she instantly corrected herself, -shaking me vigorously, yet almost timidly, by the hand. It was a -provincial and untutored voice.</p> - -<p>“I’m—delighted to see you,” my lips stammered, stopping dead before -the modern title. The control of my breath was not quite easy for a -moment.</p> - -<p>We sat down. In her words—or was it in her manner, rather?—there -was a hint of undue familiarity that tinged my disappointment with -a flash of disapproval too, yet caught up immediately by a kind of -natural dignity that denied offence, or at any rate, corrected it. -Another impression then stole over me. I was aware of charm. The -voice, however, unquestionably betrayed accent. Of the “lady,” in the -restricted, ordinary meaning of the word, there was no pretence. A -singular revulsion made me tremble. For a moment she had held my hand -with deliberate pressure, while her eyes remained fixed upon my face -with a direct, a searching intentness. She too, like her husband, -watched me. If she formed a swift, intuitive judgment regarding myself, -nothing at first betrayed it. I was aware, however, at once, that, -behind the decision of her natural<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> frankness, something elusive -hovered. The effect was highly contradictory, even captivating, -certainly provocative of curiosity. Accompanying her laughter was a -delicate, swift flush, and the laugh, though loud in some other sense -than of sound alone, was not unmusical. A breath of glamour, seductive -as it was fleeting, caught me as I heard.</p> - -<p>For a moment or two my senses certainly reeled. It seemed that swift -shutters rose and fell before my eyes. One screen rolled up, another -dropped, vistas opened, vanishing before their depths showed anything. -The châlet, with our immediate surroundings, faded; I was aware of -ourselves only, chiefly, however, of her. This first sight of her had -the effect that years before Julius had produced: the peculiar sense of -“other places.” And this in spite of myself, without any decided belief -of my own as yet to help it....</p> - -<p>The confusion of my senses passed then, and consciousness focused -clearly once more on my surroundings. The disturbed emotions, -however, refused wholly to quiet down. Her face, I noted, beneath the -disfiguring marks, was rosy, and the grey-green eyes were very bright. -They were luminous, changing eyes, their hue altering of its own accord -apart from mere play or angle of the light. Sometimes their grey merged -wholly into green, but a very wonderful deep green that made them like -the sea; later, again, they were distinctly blue. They lit the entire -face, its expression changing when they changed. The frank and open -innocence of the child in them was countered, though not injuriously, -by an unfathomed depth that had its effect upon the whole physiognomy. -An arresting power shone in them as if imperiously. There were two -faces there.</p> - -<p>And the singular and fascinating effect of these dominating eyes left -further judgment at first disabled. I noticed, however, that her mouth -had that generous width that makes for strength rather than for beauty; -that the teeth were fine and regular; and that the brown hair, tinged -with bronze, was untidy about the neck and ears. A narrow band of -black velvet encircled the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> throat; she wore a blouse, short skirt, -and high brown boots with nails that clattered on the stone flooring -when she moved. Since gathering vegetables in the dawn she had changed -her costume, evidently. A certain lightness, I saw now, had nothing of -irresponsibility in it, but was merely youth, vitality, and physical -vigour. She was fifteen years younger than Julius, if a day, and I -judged her age no more than twenty-five perhaps.</p> - -<p>“It’s a pore house to have your friends to,” she said in her breezy, -uncultivated voice, “but I hope you managed all right with your -room—Professor?” It was the foundation of the voice that had the -uncultivated sound; on the top of it, like a layer of something -imitated or acquired, there was refinement. I got the impression that, -unconsciously, she aped the better manner of speech, yet was not aware -she did so.</p> - -<p>Burning questions rose within me as I listened to this opening -conversation: How much she knew, and believed, of her husband’s vast -conceptions; what explanation of my visit he had offered her, what -explanation of myself; chief of all, how much—if anything—she -remembered? For our coming together in this hidden Jura valley under -conditions that seemed one minute ludicrous, and the next sublime, was -the alleged meeting of three Souls who had not recognised each other -through bodily, human eyes for countless centuries. And our purpose, -if not madness, held a solemnity that might well belong to a forgotten -method of approaching deity.</p> - -<p>“He’s told me such a lot about you, Julius has,” she continued half -shyly, jerking her thumb in the direction of her husband, “that I -wanted to see what you were like.” It was said naturally, as by a -child; yet the freedom might equally have been assumed to conceal -an admitted ignorance of manners. “You’re such—very old friends, -aren’t you?” She seemed to look me up and down. I thought I detected -disappointment in her too.</p> - -<p>“We were together at school and university, you see,” I made reply, -shirking the title again, “but it’s a good many years now since we met. -We’ve been out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> touch for a long time. I hadn’t even heard of his -marriage. My congratulations are late, but most sincere.”</p> - -<p>I bowed. Strange! Both in word and gesture some faintest hint of -sarcasm or resentment forced itself against my conscious will. The -blood rose—I hoped unnoticed—to my cheeks. My eyes dropped quickly -from her face.</p> - -<p>“That’s reely nice of you,” she said simply, and without a touch of -embarrassment anywhere. She cut a lump of bread from the enormous loaf -in front of us and broke it in little pieces into her bowl of milk. Her -spoon remained standing in her coffee cup. It seemed impossible for -me to be unaware of any detail that concerned her, either of gesture -or pronunciation. I noticed every tiniest detail whether I would or -no. Her charm, I decided, increased. It was wholly independent of her -looks. It took me now and again by surprise, as it -<a name="quote" id="quote"></a><ins title="Original has end quote">were.</ins></p> - -<p>“Maybe—I suppose he didn’t know where you were,” she added, as Julius -volunteered no word. “But he was shore you’d come if you got the -letter.”</p> - -<p>“It was a promise,” her husband put in quietly. Evidently he wished us -to make acquaintance in our own way. He left us alone with purpose, -content to watch and show his satisfaction. The relationship between -them seemed natural and happy, utterly devoid of the least sign of -friction. She certainly—had I perhaps, anticipated otherwise?—showed -no fear of him.</p> - -<p>The “man” came in with a plate of butter, clattering out noisily again -in his heavy boots. He gave us each a look in turn, of anxiety first, -and then of pleasure. All was well with us, he felt. His eyes, however, -lingered longest on his mistress, as though she needed his protective -care more than we did. It was the attitude and expression of a faithful -dog who knows he has the responsibility of a child upon his shoulders, -and is both proud and puzzled by the weight of honour.</p> - -<p>A pause followed, during which I made more successful efforts to subdue -the agitation that was in me. I broke the silence by a commonplace, -expressing a hope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> that my late arrival the night before had not -disturbed her.</p> - -<p>“Lord, no!” she exclaimed, laughing gaily, while she glanced from me to -Julius. “Only I thought you and he’d like to be alone for a bit after -such a long time apart.... Besides, I didn’t fancy my food somehow—I -get that way up here sometimes,” she added, “don’t I, Julius?”</p> - -<p>“You’ve been here some time already?” I asked sympathetically, before -he could reply.</p> - -<p>“Ever since the wedding,” she answered frankly. “Seven—getting on for -eight—months ago, it is now—we came up straight from the Registry -Office. At times it’s a bit funny, an’ no mistake—lonely, I mean,” -she quickly corrected herself. And she looked at her husband again -with a kind of childish mischief in her expression that I thought most -becoming.</p> - -<p>“It’s not for ever, is it?” he laughed with her.</p> - -<p>“And I understand you chose it, didn’t you?” I fell in with her mood. -“It must be lonely, of course, sometimes,” I added.</p> - -<p>“Yes, we chose it,” she replied. “We choose everything together.” And -they looked proudly at each other like two children. For a moment -it flashed across me to challenge him playfully, yet not altogether -playfully, for burying a young wife in such a deserted place. I did not -yield to the temptation, however, and Mrs. LeVallon continued breezily -in her off-hand manner:</p> - -<p>“Julius wanted you badly, I know. You must stay here now we’ve got -you. There’s reelly lots to do, once you get used to it; only it -seems strange at first after city life—like what I’ve had, and -sometimes”—she hesitated a second—“well, of an evening, or when it -gets stormy—the thunder-storms are something awful—you feel wild -and want to do things, to rush about and take your clothes off.” She -stopped; and the deep green of the sea came up into her eyes. Again, -for an instant, I caught two faces in her. “It turns you wild here when -the wind gets to blowing,” she added, laughing, “and the lightning’s -like loose, flying fire.” The way she said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> it made me forget the -physical disabilities. There was even a hint of fascination somewhere -in the voice.</p> - -<p>“It takes you back to the natural, primitive state,” I said. “I can -well believe it.” And no amount of restraint could keep the admiration -out of my eyes. “Civilisation is easily forgotten in a place like this.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, is that it?” she said shortly, while we laughed, all three -together. “Civilisation—eh?”</p> - -<p>I got the impression that she felt left out of something, something she -knew was going on, but that didn’t include her quite. Her intuition, I -judged, was very keen. Beneath this ordinary conversation she was aware -of many things. She was fully conscious of a certain subdued excitement -in the three of us, and that between her husband and her guest there -was a constant interplay of half-discovered meaning, half-revealed -emotion. She was reading me too. Yet all without deliberation; it was -intuitive, the mind took no conscious part in it. And, when she spoke -of the effect of the valley upon her, I saw her suddenly a little -different, too—wild and free, untamed in a sense, and close to the -elemental side of life. Her enthusiasm for big weather betrayed it. -During the whole of breakfast, indeed, we all were “finding” one -another, Julius in particular making notes. For him, of course, there -was absorbing interest in this meeting of three souls whom Fate had -kept so long apart—the signs of recognition he detected or imagined, -the sympathy, the intimacy betrayed by the way things were <em>taken for -granted</em> between us. He said no word, however. He was very quiet.</p> - -<p>My own feelings, meanwhile, seemed tossed together in too great -and violent confusion for immediate disentanglement. My sense of -the dramatic fitness of things was worse than unsatisfied—it was -shattered. Julius unquestionably had married a superior domestic -servant.</p> - -<p>“Is the bread to your liking, Professor?”</p> - -<p>“I think it’s quite delicious, Mrs. LeVallon. It tempts me even to -excess,” I added, facetious in my nervousness. I had used her name at -last, but with an effort.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span></p> - -<p>“I made it,” she said proudly. “Mother taught me that before I was -fifteen.”</p> - -<p>“And the butter, too?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“No,” she laughed, with a touch of playful disappointment. “We get that -from a farm five miles down the valley. It’s in special honour of your -arrival, this.”</p> - -<p>“Our nearest contact with the outside world,” added Julius, “and -over a thousand feet below us. We’re on a little plateau here all by -ourselves——”</p> - -<p>“Put away like,” she interrupted gaily, “as though we’d been naughty,” -and then she added, “or for something special and very mysterious.” -She looked into his face half archly, half inquisitively, as if aware -of something she divined yet could not understand. Her honesty and -sincerity made every little thing she said seem dignified. I was again -aware of pathos.</p> - -<p>“The peace and quiet,” I put in quickly, conscious of something within -me that watched and listened intently, “must be delightful—after the -cities—and with the great storms you mention to break the possible -monotony.”</p> - -<p>She looked at me a full moment steadily, and in her eyes, no longer -green but sky-blue, I read the approach of that strange expression I -called another “face,” that in the end, however, did not fully come. -But the characteristic struck me, for Julius had it too.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you find out all about yourself in a place like this,” she said -slowly, “a whole lot of things you didn’t know before. You’ll like it; -but it’s not for everybody. It’s very élite.” She turned to Julius. -“The Professor’ll love it, won’t he? And we must keep him,” she -repeated, “now we’ve got him.”</p> - -<p>Something moved between the three of us as she said it. There was no -inclination in me to smile, even at the absurd choice of a word. An -upheaving sense of challenge came across the air at me, including -not only ourselves at the breakfast table, but the entire valley as -well. Against some subterranean door in me rose sudden pressure, and -the woman’s commonplace words had in them something incalculable that -caused the door to yield. Out rushed a pouring, bursting flood. A wild<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> -delight of beauty ran suddenly in my civilised veins; I felt uplifted, -stimulated, carried off my feet.</p> - -<p>It was but the flash and touch of a passing mood, of course, yet it -marked a change in me, another change. <em>She</em> was aware of elemental -powers even as her husband was. First through him, but now through her, -I, too, was becoming similarly—aware.</p> - -<p>I glanced at Julius, calmly devouring bread and milk beyond all reach -of comedy—Julius who recognised an “old soul” in a servant girl with -the same conviction that he invoked the deific Powers of a conscious -Nature; to whom nothing was trivial, nothing final, the future -magnificent as the past, and behind whose chair stood the Immensities -whispering messages of his tireless evolutionary scheme. And I saw him -“unclassable”—merely an eternal, travelling soul, working out with -myself and with this other “soul” some detail long neglected by the -three of us. Marriage, class, social status, education, culture—what -were they but temporary external details, whose sole value lay in their -providing conditions for acquiring certain definite experiences? Life’s -outer incidents were but episodic, after all.</p> - -<p>And this flash of insight into his point of view came upon me thus -suddenly through <em>her</em>. The mutual sympathy and understanding between -the three of us that he so keenly watched for had advanced rapidly. -Another stage was reached. The foundations seemed already established -here among us.</p> - -<p>Thus, while surprise, resentment and distress fought their battle -within me against something that lay midway between disbelief and -acceptance, my mind was aware of a disharmony that made judgment -extremely difficult. Almost I knew the curious feeling that one of us -had been fooled. It was all so incongruous and disproportioned, on the -edge of the inconceivable. And yet, at the same time, some sense of -keen delight awoke in me that satisfied. Joy glowed in some depth I -could not reach or modify.</p> - -<p>Had the “woman” proved wonderful in some ordinary earthly way, I -could have continued to share<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> in a kind of dramatic make-believe -LeVallon’s imagination of an “old soul” returned. The sense of fitness -would have felt requited. Yet what so disconcerted me was that this -commonplace disclosure of the actual facts did not destroy belief, but -even increased it! This unexpected and banal <em>dénouement</em>, denying, -apparently, all the requirements of his creed, fell upon me with a -crash of reality that was arresting in an entirely unexpected way. It -made the conception so much more likely—possible—true!</p> - -<p>Out of some depth in me I could not summon to the bar of judgment -or analysis rose the whisper that in reality the union of these two -was not so incongruous and outrageous as it seemed. To a penetrating -vision such as his, what difference could that varnish of the mind -called “education” pretend to make? Or how could he be deceived by the -surface tricks of “refinement,” in accent, speech, and manner, that so -often cloak essential crudeness and vulgarity? These were to him but -the external equipment of a passing To-day, whereas he looked for the -innate acquirements due to real experience—age in the soul itself. -Her social status, education and so forth had nothing to do with—her -actual Self. In some ultimate region that superficial human judgment -barely acknowledges the union of these two seemed right, appropriate -and inevitably true.</p> - -<p>This breakfast scene remains graven in my mind. LeVallon talked little, -even as he ate little, while his wife and I satisfied our voracious -appetites with the simple food provided. She chattered <em>sans gêne</em>, -eating not ungracefully so much as in a manner untaught. Her smallest -habits drew my notice and attention of their own accord. I watched the -velvet band rising and falling as she swallowed—noisily, talking and -drinking with her mouth full, and holding her knife after the manner of -the servants’ hall. Her pronunciation at times was more than marked. -For instance, though she did not say “gime,” she most assuredly did -not say “game,” and her voice, what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> men call “common,” was undeniably -of the upper servant class. While guilty now and again of absurd -solecisms, she chose words sometimes that had an air of refinement -above the ordinary colloquial usage—the kind affected by a lady’s-maid -who has known service in the “upper suckles” of the world—“close” -the door in place of simply “shut” it, “commence” in preference to -the ordinary “begin,” “costume” rather than merely “clothes,” and a -hundred others of similar kind. Sofa, again, was “couch.” She missed a -sentence, and asked for it with “What say?” while her “if you please” -and “pardon” held a suspicion of that unction which, it seemed, only -just remembered in time not to add “sir,” or even “my lady.” She halted -instinctively before a door, as though to let her husband or myself -pass out in front, and even showed surprise at being helped at the -table before ourselves. These and a thousand other revealing touches -I noticed acutely, because I had expected something so absolutely -different. I was profoundly puzzled.</p> - -<p>Yet, while I noted closely these social and mental disabilities, I -was aware also of their flat and striking contradiction; and her -beautifully-shaped hands, her small, exquisite feet and ankles, her -natural dignity of carriage, gesture, bearing, were the least of these. -Setting her beside maid or servitor, my imagination recoiled as from -something utterly ill-placed. I could have sworn she owned some secret -pedigree that no merely menial position could affect, most certainly -not degrade. In spite of less favourable indications, so thick about -her, I caught unmistakable tokens of a superiority she herself ignored, -which yet proclaimed that her soul stood erect and four-square to the -winds of life, independent wholly of the “social position” her body -with its untutored brain now chanced to occupy.</p> - -<p>Exactly the nature of these elusive signs of innate nobility I find -it more than difficult to describe. They rose subtly out of her, yet -evaded separate subtraction from either the gestures or conversation -that revealed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> them. They explained the subtle and increasing charm. -They were of the soul.</p> - -<p>For, even thus early in our acquaintance, there began to emerge -these other qualities in this simple girl that at first the shock of -disappointment and surprise had hidden from me. The apparent emptiness -of her face was but a mask that cloaked an essential, native dignity. -From time to time, out of those strange, arresting eyes that at first -had seemed all youth and surface, peered forth that other look, -standing a moment to query and to judge, then, like moods of sky which -reveal and hide a depth of sea, plunged out of sight again. It betrayed -an inner, piercing sight of a far deeper kind. Out of this deeper part -of her I felt she watched me steadily—to wonder, ask, and weigh. It -was hence, no doubt, I had the curious impression of two faces, two -beings, in her, and the moments when I surprised her peering thus -were, in a manner, electrifying beyond words. For then, into tone -and gesture, conquering even accent and expression, crept flash-like -this “something” that would not be denied, hinting at the distinction -of true spiritual independence superior to all local, temporary, or -worldly divisions implied in mere “class” or “station.”</p> - -<p>This girl, behind her ignorance of life’s snobbish values, possessed -that indefinable spiritual judgment best called “taste.” And taste, -I remember Julius held, was the infallible evidence of a soul’s -maturity—of age. The phrase “old soul” acquired more meaning for me as -I watched her. I recalled that strange hint of his long years before, -that greatness and position, as the world accepts them, are actually -but the kindergarten stages for the youngest, crudest souls of all. The -older souls are not “distinguished” in the “world.” They are beyond it.</p> - -<p>Moreover, during the course of this singular first meal together, while -she used the phraseology of the servant class and betrayed the manners -of what men call “common folk,” it was borne in upon me that she, too, -unknowingly, touched the same vast sources of extended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> life that her -husband claimed to realise, and that her being unknowingly swept that -region of elemental Powers with which he now sought conscious union. -In her infectious vitality beat the pulse of vaster tides than she yet -knew.</p> - -<p>Already, in our conversation, this had come to me; it increased -from minute to minute as our atmospheres combined and mingled. -The suggestion of what I must call great exterior Activities that -always accompanied the presence of Julius made themselves felt also -through the being of this simple and uneducated girl. Winds, cool and -refreshing, from some elemental region blew soundlessly about her. I -was aware of their invigorating currents. And this came to me with my -first emotions, and was not due to subsequent reflection. For, in my -own case, too, while resenting the admission, I felt something more -generously scaled than my normal self, scientifically moulded, trying -to urge up as with great arms and hands that thrust into my mind. What -hitherto had seemed my complete Self opened, as though it were but a -surface tract, revealing depths of consciousness unguessed before.</p> - -<p>And this, I think, was the disquieting sensation that perplexed -me chiefly with a sense of unstable equilibrium. The idea of -pre-existence, with its huge weight of memory lost and actions -undischarged, pressed upon a portion of my soul that was trying to -awake. The foundations of my known personality appeared suddenly -insecure, and what the brain denied, this other part accepted, even -half remembered. The change of consciousness in me was growing. While -observing Mrs. LeVallon, listening to the spontaneous laughter that ran -between her sentences, meeting her quick eyes that took in everything -about them, these varied and contradictory judgments of my own worked -their inevitable effect upon me. The quasi-memory, with its elusive -fragrance of far-off, forgotten things; the promised reconstruction of -passionate emotions that had burned the tissues of our earlier bodies -before even the foundations of these “eternal” hills were laid; the -sense of being again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> among ancient friends, netted by deathless forces -of spiritual adventure and desire—Julius, his wife, myself, mutually -involved in the intricate pattern of our souls’ development:—all this, -while I strove to regard it as mere telepathic reflection from his own -beliefs, yet made something in me, deeper than any ratiocination, stand -up and laugh in my face with the authoritative command that it was -absolutely—true.</p> - -<p>Our very intimacy, so readily established as of its own -accord—established, moreover, among such unlikely and half -antagonistic elements—seemed to hint at a relationship resumed, -instead of now first beginning. The fact that the three of us took so -much for granted almost suggested memory. For the near presence of this -woman—I call her woman, though she was but girl—disturbed me more -than uncommonly; and this curious, soft delight I felt raging in the -depths of me—whence did it come? Whence, too, the depth and power of -other feelings that she roused in me, their reckless quality, their -certainty, the haunting pang and charm that her face, not even pretty -apart from its disfigurement, stirred in my inmost being? There was -mischief and disaster in her sea-green eyes, though neither mischief -nor disaster quite of this material world.</p> - -<p>I confessed—the first time for many years—to something moving beyond -ordinary. More and more I longed to learn of her first meeting with the -man she had married, and by what method he claimed to have recognised -in this servant girl the particular ancient soul he waited for, and -by what unerring instinct he had picked her out and set her upon so -curious a throne.</p> - -<p>I watched the velvet band about the well-shaped neck....</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>I have been here before,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>But when or how I cannot tell:</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>I know the grass beyond the door,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>The sweet keen smell,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.</em></div> -</div> -<div class="verse"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> -<div class="line">“<em>You have been mine before,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>How long ago I may not know:</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>But just when at that swallow’s soar</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>Your neck turned so ...</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Some veil did fall—I knew it all of yore.</em>”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>“And now,” she exclaimed, springing up and turning to her husband, “I’m -going to leave you and the Professor together to talk out all your old -things without me intervening! Besides I’ve got the bread to make,” she -added with a swift, gay smile in my direction, “that bread you called -delicious. I generally do it of a morning.”</p> - -<p>With a swinging motion of her lithe young body she was gone; the room -seemed strangely empty; the disfiguring marks upon her girlish face -were already forgotten; and a sense of companionship within me turned -somehow lonely and bereft.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> -<h3><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">To Memory</span></p> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>Yet, when I would command thee hence,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Thou mockest at the vain pretence,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Murmuring in mine ear a song</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Once loved, alas! forgotten long;</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>And on my brow I feel a kiss</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>That I would rather die than miss.</em>”—Mary Coleridge.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi">“<span class="smcap">Well?</span>” Julius asked me, as we strolled across the pastures that -skirted the main forest, “and does it seem anywhere familiar to -you—the three of us together again? You recall—how much?” A rather -wistful smile passed over his face, but the eyes were grave. He was in -earnest if ever man was. “She doesn’t seem wholly a stranger to you?”</p> - -<p>My mind searched carefully for words. To refer to any of my recent -impressions was difficult, even painful, and frank discussion of my -friend’s wife impossible—though, probably, there was nothing Julius -would not have understood and even welcomed.</p> - -<p>“I—cannot deny,” I began, “that somewhere—in my imagination, perhaps, -there seems——”</p> - -<p>He interrupted me at once. “Don’t suppress the imaginative -pictures—they’re memory. To deny them is only to forget again. Let -them come freely in you.”</p> - -<p>“Julius——!” I exclaimed, conscious that I flushed a little, “but she -is wonderful; superior, too, in some magnificent way to—any——”</p> - -<p>“Lady,” he came abruptly to my assistance, no vestige of annoyance -visible.</p> - -<p>“To anyone of our own class,” I completed the sentence more to my -liking. “I admit I feel drawn to her—in a kind of understanding -sympathy—though how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> can I pretend that I—that this sense of -familiarity is really memory?” It was impossible to treat him lightly; -his belief was his life, commanding a respect due to all great -convictions of the soul. “You have found someone you can love,” I went -on, aware that it gave me no pleasure to say it, “and someone who loves -you. I—am delighted.”</p> - -<p>He turned to me, standing hatless, the sunlight in his face, his eyes -fixed steadily upon my own.</p> - -<p>“We had to meet—all three,” he said slowly; “sooner or later. It’s -an old, old debt we’ve got to settle up together, and the opportunity -has come at last. I only ask your sympathy—and hers.” He shrugged his -shoulders slightly. “To you it may seem a small thing, and, if you have -no memory, a wild, impossible thing as well, even with delusion in it. -But nothing is really small.” He paused. “I only ask that you shall not -resist.” And then he added gravely: “The risk is mine.”</p> - -<p>I felt uneasiness; the old schooldays’ basis of complete sincerity was -not in me quite. I had lived too long in the world of ordinary men and -women. His marriage seemed prompted by an impersonal sense of justice -to the universe rather than by any desire for the companionship and -sweetness that a woman’s love could give him. For a moment I knew -not what to say. Could such a view be hers as well? Had she yielded -herself to him upon a similar understanding? And if not—the thought -afflicted me—might not this debt he spoke of have been discharged -without claiming the whole life of another in a union that involved -also physical ties?</p> - -<p>Yet, while I could not find it in me to utter all I thought, there was -a burning desire to hear details of the singular courtship. Almost I -felt the right to know, yet shrank from asking it.</p> - -<p>“Then nothing more definite stirs in you?” he asked quietly, his eyes -still holding mine, “no memory you can recognise? No wave of feeling; -no picture, even of that time when we—we three——”</p> - -<p>“Julius, old friend,” I exclaimed with sudden impulsiveness, and hardly -knowing why I said it, “it only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> seems to me that these pine woods -behind you are out of the picture rather. They should be palms, with -spaces of sand shimmering in a hot sun. And the châlet”—pointing -over his shoulder—“seems still less to belong to you when I recall -the temples we talked about before the plain where the worship of the -rising sun took place——”</p> - -<p>I broke off abruptly with a little shamefaced laughter: my invention, -or imagination, seemed so thin. But Julius turned eagerly, his face -alight.</p> - -<p>“Laugh as you please,” he said, “but what makes you feel me out of the -picture, as you call it, is memory—memory of where we three were last -together. That sense of incongruity is memory. Don’t resist. Let the -pictures rise and grow as they will. And don’t deny any instinctive -feelings that come to you—they’re memory too.”</p> - -<p>A moment of revolt swept over me, yet with it an emotion both sweet and -painful. Dread and delight both troubled me. Unless I resisted, his -great conviction would carry me away again as of old. And what if she -should come to aid him? What if she should bring the persuasion of her -personality to the attack, and with those eyes of mischief and disaster -ask me questions out of a similar conviction and belief? If she should -hold me face to face: “Do you remember me—<em>as I remember you?</em>”</p> - -<p>“Julius,” I cried, “let me speak plainly at once and so prevent -your disappointment later.” I forced the words out against my -will, it seemed. “For the truth, my dear fellow, is simply—that I -remember—nothing! Definitely—I remember nothing.”</p> - -<p>Yet there was pain and sadness in me suddenly. I had prevaricated. -Almost I had told a lie. Some vague fear of involving myself in -undesirable consequences had forced me against my innate knowledge. -Almost I had denied—her.</p> - -<p>From the forest stole forth a breath too soft and perfumed for an -autumn wind. It stirred the hair upon his forehead, left its touch of -dream upon my cheeks, then passed on to lift a wreath of mist in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> -fields below. And, as though a spirit older than the wind moved among -my thoughts, this modern world seemed less real when it had gone. I -heard the voice of Julius answering me. His words came very slowly, -fastening upon my own. The resentment, the disappointment I had looked -for were not there, nor the comparison of myself—in her favour—I had -half anticipated.</p> - -<p>The answer utterly nonplussed me:</p> - -<p>“Neither does she remember—anything.”</p> - -<p>I started. A curious pang shot through me—something of regret, even of -melancholy in it. That she had forgotten “everything” was pain. She had -forgotten me.</p> - -<p>“But we—you, I mean—can make her?”</p> - -<p>The words were out impulsively before I could prevent them. He did not -look at me. I did not look at him.</p> - -<p>“I should have put it differently, perhaps,” he answered. “She is not -<em>aware</em> that she remembers.”</p> - -<p>He drew me further along the dewy meadow towards the upper valley, and -drew me deeper, as it seemed, into his own strange region whence came -these perplexing statements.</p> - -<p>“But, Julius,” I stammered, seeing that he kept silence, “if she -remembers nothing—how could you know—how could you feel sure, when -you met her——?”</p> - -<p>My sentences stopped dead. Even in these unusual circumstances it was -not possible to question a friend about the woman he had married. -Had she proved some marvel of physical beauty or of intellectual -attainment, curiosity might have been taken as a compliment. But as it -was——!</p> - -<p>Yet all the time I <em>knew</em> that her insignificant worldly value was a -clean stroke of proof that he had not suffered himself to be deceived -in this recovery and recognition of the spiritual maturity he meant by -the term “old soul.” His voice reached me, calm and normal as though -he talked about the weather. “I’ll tell you,” he said, “for it’s -interesting, and, besides, you have the right to know.”</p> - -<p>And the words fell among my tangled thoughts like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> deft fingers that -put confusion straight. The incredible story he told me as a child -might relate a fairy-tale it knows is true, yet thinks may not be quite -believed. Without the slightest emphasis, and certainly without the -least embarrassment or sense that it was unusual. Even of comedy I was -not properly once aware. All through the strange recital rang in my -mind, “She is not aware that she remembers.”</p> - -<p>“‘The Dardanelles,’” he began, smiling a little as though at the -recollection, “was where I met her, thus recovered. Not on the way from -Smyrna to Constantinople; oh, no! It was not romantic in that little -sense. ‘The Dardanelles’ was a small and ugly red-brick villa in Upper -Norwood, with a drive ten yards long, ragged laurel bushes, and a green -five-barred gate, gold-lettered. Maennlich lives there—the Semitic -language man and Egyptologist; you know. She was his parlour-maid at -the time, and before that had been lady’s-maid to the daughter of some -undistinguished duchess. In this way,” he laughed softly, “may old -souls wait upon the young ones sometimes! Her father,” he continued, -“was a market-gardener and fruiterer in a largish way at East Croydon, -and she herself had been brought up upon the farm whence his supplies -came. ‘Chance,’ as they call it, led her into these positions I have -mentioned, and so, inevitably—to me.”</p> - -<p>He looked up at me a moment. “And so to you as well.”</p> - -<p>His manner was composed and serious. He spoke with the simple -conviction of some Christian who traces the Hand of God in the smallest -details of his daily life, and seeks His guidance in his very train -journeys. There was something rather superb about it all.</p> - -<p>“A fruiterer in East Croydon! A maid in service! And—you knew—you -recognised her?”</p> - -<p>“At once. The very first day she let me in at the front door and asked -if I wished to see her master, what name she might announce, and so -forth.”</p> - -<p>“It was all—er—unexpected and sudden like that?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> came the question -from a hundred others that crowded together in me. “To find a lost -friend of years only—in such a way—the shock, I mean, to you——!” I -simply could not find my words. He told it all so calmly, naturally. -“You were wholly unprepared, weren’t you? Nothing had led you to -expect?” I ended with a dash.</p> - -<p>“Not wholly unprepared,” was his rejoinder; “nor was the meeting -altogether unexpected—on my side, that is. Intimations, as I told -you at Motfield Close twenty years ago—when she was born—had come -to me. No soul draws breath for the first time, without a quiver of -response running through all that lives. Souls intimately connected -with each other may feel the summons. There are ways——! I knew that -she was once more in the world, that, like ourselves, her soul had -reincarnated; and ever since I have been searching——”</p> - -<p>“Searching——!”</p> - -<p>“There are clues that offer themselves—that come, perhaps in sleep, -perhaps by direct experiment, and, regardless of space, give hints——”</p> - -<p>“Psychometry?” I asked, remembering a word just coined.</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders. “All objects radiate,” he said, “no -matter how old they are. Their radiation never ceases till they -are disintegrated; and if you are sensitive you can receive their -messages. If you have certain powers, due to relation and affinity, -you may interpret them. There is an instantaneous linking-up—in -picture-form—impossible to mistake.”</p> - -<p>“You knew, then, she was somewhere on the earth—waiting for you?” I -repeated, wondering what was coming next. That night in the Edinburgh -lodgings, when he had been “searching,” came back to me.</p> - -<p>“For <em>us</em>,” he corrected me. “It was something from a Private -Collection that gave me the clue by which I finally traced -her—something from the older sands.”</p> - -<p>“The sands! Egyptian?”</p> - -<p>Julius nodded. “Egypt, for all of us, was a comparatively recent -section—nearer to To-day, I mean. Many a time has each of us been -back there—Thebes, Memphis,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> even as lately ago as Alexandria at its -zenith, learning, developing, reaping what ages before we sowed—for -in Egypt the knowledge that was <em>our</em> knowledge survived longer than -anywhere else. Yet never, unfortunately, returning together, and thus -never finding the opportunity to achieve the great purpose of our -meeting.”</p> - -<p>“But the clue?” I asked breathlessly.</p> - -<p>He smiled again at the eagerness that again betrayed me.</p> - -<p>“This old world,” he resumed quietly, “is strewn, of course, with the -remnants of what once has been our bodies—‘suits of clothes’ we have -inhabited, used, and cast aside. Here and there, from one chance or -another, some of these may have been actually preserved. The Egyptians, -for instance, went to considerable trouble to ensure that they should -survive as long as possible, thus assisting memory later.”</p> - -<p>“Embalming, you mean?”</p> - -<p>“As you wander through the corridors of a modern museum,” he continued -imperturbably, “you may even look through a glass covering at the very -tenement your soul has occupied at an earlier stage! Probably, of -course, without the faintest whisper of recognition, yet, possibly, -with just that acute and fascinated interest which <em>is</em> the result -of stirring memory. For the ‘old clothes’ still radiate vibrations -that belong to <em>you;</em> the dried blood and nerves once thrilled with -emotions, spiritual or otherwise, that were you—the link may be -recoverable. You think it is wild nonsense! I tell you it is in the -best sense scientific. And, similarly,” he added, “you may chance upon -some such remnant of another—the body of ancient friend or enemy.” -He paused abruptly in his extraordinary recital. “I had that good -fortune,” he added, “if you like to call it so.”</p> - -<p>“You found <em>hers?</em>” I asked in a low voice. “Her, I mean?”</p> - -<p>“Maennlich,” he replied with a smile, “has the best preserved mummies -in the world. He never allowed them even to be unwrapped. The object I -speak of—a body she had occupied in a recent Egyptian section—though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span> -not when <em>we</em> were there, unfortunately—lay in one of his glass cases, -while the soul who once had used it answered his bell and walked across -his carpets—two of her bodies in the house at once. Curious, wasn’t -it? A discarded instrument and the one in present use! The rest was -comparatively easy. I traced her whereabouts at once, for the clue -furnished the plainest possible directions. I went straight to her.”</p> - -<p>“And you knew instantly—when you saw her? You had no doubt?”</p> - -<p>“Instantly—when the door swung open and our eyes met on the threshold.”</p> - -<p>“Love at first sight, Julius, you mean? It was love you felt?” I asked -it beneath my breath, for my heart was beating strangely.</p> - -<p>He raised his eyebrows. “Love?” he repeated, questioningly. “Deep joy, -intuitive sympathy, content and satisfaction, rather. I knew her. I -knew <em>who</em> she was. In a few minutes we were more intimate in mind and -feeling than souls who meet for the first time can become after years -of living together. You understand?”</p> - -<p>I lowered my eyes, not knowing what to say. The standards of modern -conduct, so strong about me, prevented the comments or questions that I -longed to utter.</p> - -<p>There flashed upon me in that instant’s pause a singular -conviction—that these two had mated for a reason of their own. -They had not known the clutch of elemental power by which Nature -ensures the continuance of the race. They had not shuddered, wept, -and known the awful ecstasy, but had slipped between her fingers and -escaped. They had not loved. While he knew this consciously, she was -aware of it unconsciously. They mated for another reason, yet one -as holy, as noble, as pure—if not more so, indeed—as those that -consecrate marriage in the accepted sense. And the thought, strange -as it was, brought a sweet pleasure to me, though shot with a pain -that was equally undeniable and equally perplexing. While my thoughts -floundered between curiosity, dismay and something elusive that yet -was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> more clamorous than either, Julius continued without a vestige of -embarrassment, though obviously omitting much detail that I burned to -hear.</p> - -<p>“And that very week—the next day, I think, it was—I asked Maennlich -to allow me an hour’s talk with her alone——”</p> - -<p>“She—er——?”</p> - -<p>“She liked me—from the very first, yes. She felt me.”</p> - -<p>“And showed it?” I asked bluntly.</p> - -<p>“And showed it,” he repeated, “although she said it puzzled her and she -couldn’t understand.”</p> - -<p>“On her side, then, it was love—love at first sight?”</p> - -<p>“Strong attraction,” he put it, “but an attraction she thought it her -duty to resist at first. Her present conditions made any relationship -between us seem incongruous, and when I offered marriage—as I did at -once—it overwhelmed her. She made sensible objections, but it was -her brain of To-day that made them. You can imagine how it went. She -urged that to marry a man in another class of life, a ‘gentleman,’ a -‘wealthy’ gentleman and an educated, ‘scholar gentleman,’ as she called -me, could only end in unhappiness—because I should tire of her. Yet, -all the time—she told me this afterwards—she had the feeling that we -were meant for one another, and that it must surely be. She was shy -about it as a child.”</p> - -<p>“And you convinced her in the end!” I said to myself rather than aloud -to him. There were feelings in me I could not disentangle.</p> - -<p>“Convinced her that we needed one another and could never go apart,” he -said. “We had something to fulfil together. The forces that drove us -together, though unintelligible to her, were yet acknowledged by her -too, you see.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” my voice murmured faintly, as he seemed to expect some word in -reply. “I see.” Then, after a longer pause than usual, I asked: “And -you told her of your—your theories and beliefs—the purpose you had to -do together?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span></p> - -<p>“No single word. She could not possibly have understood. It would have -frightened her.” I heard it with relief, yet with resentment too.</p> - -<p>“Was that quite fair, do you think?”</p> - -<p>His answer I could not gainsay. “Cause and effect,” he said, “work out, -whether memory is there or not. To attempt to block fulfilment by fear -or shrinking is but to delay the very thing you need. I told her we -were necessary to each other, but that she must come willingly, or not -at all. I used no undue persuasion, and I used no force. I realised -plainly that her upper, modern, uncultured and uneducated self was -merely what she had acquired in the few years of her present life. It -was this upper self that hesitated and felt shy. The older self below -was not awake, yet urged her to acceptance blindly—as by irresistible -instinctive choice. She knew subconsciously; but, once I could succeed -in arousing her knowledge consciously, I knew her doubts would vanish. -I suggested living away from city life, away from any conditions -that might cause her annoyance or discomfort due to what she called -our respective ‘stations’ in life; I suggested the mountains, some -beautiful valley perhaps, where in solitude for a time we could get to -know each other better, untroubled by the outer world—until she became -accustomed——”</p> - -<p>“And she approved?” I interrupted with impatience.</p> - -<p>“Her words were ‘That’s the very thing; I’ve always had a dream like -that.’ She agreed with enthusiasm, and the opposition melted away. She -knew the kind of place we needed,” he added significantly.</p> - -<p>We had reached the head of the valley by this time, and I sat down upon -a boulder with the sweep of Jura forests below us like a purple carpet. -The sun and shadow splashed it everywhere with softest colouring. The -morning wind was fresh; birds were singing; this green vale among the -mountains seemed some undiscovered paradise.</p> - -<p>“And you have never since felt a moment’s doubt—uncertainty—that she -really is this ‘soul’ you knew before?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span></p> - -<p>He lay back, his head upon his folded hands, and his eyes fixed upon -the blue dome of sky.</p> - -<p>“A hundred proofs come to me all the time,” he said, stretching himself -at full length upon the grass. “And in her atmosphere, in her presence, -the memories still revive in detail from day to day—just as at school -they revived in you—those pictures you sought to stifle and deny. From -the first she never doubted me. She was aware of a great tie and bond -between us. ‘You’re the only man,’ she said to me afterwards, ‘that -could have done it like that. I belonged to you—oh! I can’t make it -out—but just as if there wasn’t any getting out of it possible. I felt -stunned when I saw you. I had always felt something like this coming, -but thought it was a dream.’ Only she often said there was something -else to come as well, and that we were not quite complete. She knew, -you see; she knew.” He broke off suddenly and turned to look at me. He -added in a lower tone, as he watched my face: “And you see how pleased -and happy she is to have <em>you</em> here!”</p> - -<p>I made no reply. I reached out for a stone and flung it headlong down -the steep slope towards the stream five hundred feet below.</p> - -<p>“And so it was settled then and there?” I asked, after a pause that -Julius seemed inclined to prolong.</p> - -<p>“Then and there,” he said, watching the rolling stone with dreamy -eyes. “In the hall-way of that Norwood villa, under the very eyes of -Maennlich who paid her wages and probably often scolded her, she came -up into my arms at the end of our final talk, and kissed me like a -happy child. She cried a good deal at the time, but I have never once -seen her cry since!”</p> - -<p>“And it’s all gone well—these months?” I murmured.</p> - -<p>“There was a temporary reaction at first—at the very first, that is,” -he said, “and I had to call in Maennlich to convince her that I was -in earnest. At her bidding I did that. Some instinct told her that -Maennlich ought to see it—perhaps, because it would save her awkward -and difficult explanations afterwards. There’s the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> woman in her, you -see, the normal, wholesome woman, sweet and timid.”</p> - -<p>“A fascinating personality,” I murmured quickly, lest I might say other -things—before their time.</p> - -<p>“No looks, no worldly beauty,” he nodded, “but the unconscious charm of -the old soul. It’s unmistakable.”</p> - -<p>Worlds and worlds I would have given to have been present at that -interview; Julius LeVallon, so unusual and distinguished; the shy -and puzzled serving-maid, happy and incredulous; the grey-bearded -archæologist and scholar; the strange embarrassment of this amazing -proposal of marriage!</p> - -<p>“And Maennlich?” I asked, anxious for more detail.</p> - -<p>Julius burst out laughing. “Maennlich lives in his own world with his -specimens and theories and memories of travel—more recent memories of -travel than our own! It hardly interested him for more than a passing -moment. He regarded it, I think, as an unnecessary interruption—and a -bothering one—some joke he couldn’t quite appreciate or understand. -He pulled his dirty beard, patted me on the back as though I were -a boy running after some theatre girl, and remarked with a bored -facetiousness that he could give her a year’s character with a clear -conscience and great pleasure. Something like that it was; I forget -exactly. Then he went back to his library, shouting through the door -some appointment about a Geographical Society meeting for the following -week. For how could he know”—his voice grew softer as he said it and -his laughter ceased—“how could he divine, that old literal-minded -savant, that he stood before a sign-post along the route to the eternal -things <em>we</em> seek, or that my marrying his servant was a step towards -something we three owe together to the universe itself?”</p> - -<p>It was some time before either of us spoke, and when at length I broke -the silence it was to express surprise that a woman, so long ripened -by the pursuit of spiritual, or at least exalted aims, should have -returned to earth among the lowly. By rights, it seemed, she should -have reincarnated among the great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> ones of the world. I knew I could -say this now without offence.</p> - -<p>“The humble,” Julius answered simply, “<em>are</em> the great ones.”</p> - -<p>His fingers played with the fronds of a piece of staghorn moss as -he said it, and to this day I cannot see this kind of moss without -remembering his strange words.</p> - -<p>“It’s among what men call the lower ranks that the old souls return,” -he went on; “among peasants and simple folk, unambitious and heedless -of material power, you always find the highest ones. They are there to -learn the final lessons of service or denial, neglected in their busier -and earlier—kindergarten sections. The last stages are invariably -in humble service—they are by far the most difficult; no young, -‘ambitious’ soul could manage it. But the old souls, having already -mastered all the more obvious lessons, are content.”</p> - -<p>“Then the oldest souls are not the great minds and great characters of -history?” I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Not necessarily,” he answered; “probably never. The most advanced are -unadvertised, in the least assuming positions. The Kingdom of Heaven -belongs to them, hard of attainment by those the world applauds. The -successful, so called, are the younger, cruder souls, passionately -acquiring still the external prizes men hold so dear. Maturer souls -have long since discarded these as worthless. The qualities the world -crowns are great, perhaps, at that particular stage, but they never -are the highest. Intellect, remember, is not of the soul, and all that -reason teaches must be unlearned again. Theories change, knowledge -shifts, facts are forgotten or proved false; only what the soul itself -acquires remains eternally the same. The old are the intuitional; and -the oldest of all—ah! how wonderful!—He who came back from loftier -heights than most of us can yet even conceive of, was the—son of a -carpenter.”</p> - -<p>I left my seat upon the boulder and lay beside him, listening for a -long time while he talked, and if there was much that seemed visionary, -there was also much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> that thrilled me with emotions beyond ordinary. -Nothing, certainly, was foolish—because of the man who said it. -And, while he took it for granted that all Nature was alive and a -manifestation of spiritual powers, the elements themselves but forces -to be mastered and acquired, it grew upon me that I had indeed entered -an enchanted valley where, with my strange companions, I might witness -new, incredible things. Finding little to reply, I was content to -listen, wondering what was coming next. And in due course the talk came -round again to ourselves, and so to the woman who was now his wife.</p> - -<p>“Then she has no idea,” I said at length, “that we three—you and I and -she—have been together before, or that there is any particular purpose -in my being here at this moment?”</p> - -<p>“In her normal condition—none,” he answered. “For she has no memory.”</p> - -<p>“There is a state, however, when she does remember?” I asked. “You have -helped her to remember? Is that it, Julius?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he replied; “I have reached down and touched her soul, so that -she remembers for herself.”</p> - -<p>“The deep trance state?”</p> - -<p>“Where all the memories of the past lie accumulated,” he answered, -“the subconscious state. Her Self of To-day—with new body and recent -brain—she has forgotten; in trance—the subconscious Self where the -soul dwells with all its past—she remembers.”</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> -<h3><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h3> -</div> - - -<blockquote> -<p>“<em>Proof of the reality of a personal sovereign of the universe -will not be obtained. But proof of the reality of a power or -powers, not unworthy of the title of gods</em>, in respect of our -corner of the cosmos, <em>may be feasible</em>.”—“The Individual and -Reality” (E. D. Fawcett).</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">I shrank.</span> Certain memories of our Edinburgh days revived unpleasantly. -They seemed to have happened yesterday instead of years ago. A shadowy -hand from those distant skies he spoke of, from those dim avenues of -thickly written Time, reached down and touched my heart, leaving the -chill of an indescribable uneasiness. The change in me since my arrival -only a few hours before was too rapid not to bring reaction. Yet on the -whole the older, deeper consciousness gained power.</p> - -<p>Possibilities my imagination had unwisely played with now seemed -stealing slowly toward probabilities. I felt as a man might feel who, -having never known fire, and disbelieved in its existence, becomes -aware of the warmth of its approach—a strange and revolutionary -discomfort. For Julius was winning me back into his world again, and -not with mere imaginative, half-playful acceptance, but with practical -action and belief. Yet the change in me was somehow welcome. No feeling -of resentment kept it in check, and certainly neither scorn nor -ridicule. Incredulity glanced invitingly at faith. They would presently -shake hands.</p> - -<p>I made, perhaps, an effort to hold back, to define the position, <em>my</em> -position, at any rate.</p> - -<p>“Julius,” I said gravely, yet with a sympathy I could not quite -conceal, “as boys together, and even later at the University, we talked -of various curious things, remarkable, even amazing things. You even -showed me certain extraordinary things which, at the time, convinced -me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> possibly. I ought to tell you now—and before we go any further, -since you take it for granted that my feelings and—er—beliefs are -still the same as yours—that I can no longer subscribe to all the -articles of your wild conviction. I have been living in the world, -you see, these many years, and—well, my imagination has collapsed -or dried up or whatever you like to call it. I don’t really see, or -remember—anything—quite in the way <em>you</em> mean——”</p> - -<p>“The ‘world’ has smothered it—temporarily,” he put in gently.</p> - -<p>“And what is more,” I continued, ignoring his interruption, “I must -confess that I have no stomach now for any ‘great experiment’ such as -you think our coming together in this valley must involve. Your idea -of reincarnation may be true—why not? It’s a most logical conception. -And we three may have been together before—granted! I admit I rather -like the notion. It may even be conceivable that the elemental powers -of Nature are intelligent, that men and women could use them to their -advantage, and that worship and feeling-with is the means to acquire -them—it’s just as likely as that some day we shall send telegrams -without wires, thoughts and pictures too!”</p> - -<p>I drew breath a moment, while he waited patiently, linking his arm in -mine and listening silently.</p> - -<p>“It may even be possible, too,” I went on, finding some boyish relief -in all these words, “that we three together in earlier days <em>did</em>—in -some kind of primitive Nature Worship—make wrong use of an unconscious -human body to evoke those particular Powers you say exist behind -Wind and Fire, and that, having thus upset the balance of material -forces, we must readjust that balance or suffer accordingly—<em>you</em> in -particular, since you were the prime mover——”</p> - -<p>“How well you state it,” he murmured. “How excellent your memory is -after all.”</p> - -<p>“But even so,” I continued, nettled by his calm interpretation of my -long and plodding objection, “and even if all you claim is true—I—I -mean bluntly—that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> transitory acceptance you woke in me years -ago no longer holds. I am with you now merely to keep a promise, a -boy’s promise, but my heart is no longer in the matter—except out of -curiosity—curiosity pure and simple.”</p> - -<p>I stopped, or rather it was his face and the expression in his eyes -that stopped me. I felt convicted of somewhat pompous foolishness, my -sense of humour and proportion gone awry. Fear, with its ludicrous -inhibitions, made me strut in this portentous fashion. His face, -wearing the child’s expression of belief and confidence, arrested me by -its sheer simplicity. But the directness of his rejoinder, however—of -his words, at least, for it was not a reply—struck me dumb.</p> - -<p>“You are afraid for <em>her</em>,” he said without a trace of embarrassment or -emotion, “because you love her still, even as she loves you—beneath.”</p> - -<p>If unconsciously or consciously I avoided his eye, he made no attempt -to avoid my own. He looked calmly at me like some uncannily clairvoyant -lawyer who has pierced the elaborate evasions of his cross-examined -witness—yet a witness who believed in his own excuses, quite honestly -self-deceived.</p> - -<p>At first the shock of his words deprived me of any power to think. I -was not offended, I was simply speechless. He forgot who I was and -what my life had been, forgot my relation with himself, forgot also -the brevity of my acquaintance with his wife. He forgot, too, that -I had accepted her, an inferior woman, accepted her without a hint -of regret—nay, let me use the word I mean—of contempt that he, my -friend, had linked his life with such a being—married her. And, -further, he forgot all that was due to himself, to me, to <em>her!</em> It was -too distressing. What could he possibly think of me, of himself, of -her, that so outrageous a statement, and without a shred of evidence, -could pass his lips? I, a middle-aged professor of geology, with an -established position in the world! And she, a parlour-maid he had been -wild enough to marry for the sake of some imagined dream, a woman, -moreover, I had seen for the first time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> a short hour before, and with -whom I had exchanged a few sentences in bare politeness, remembering -that this uneducated creature was the wife of my old friend, and——!</p> - -<p>Thought galloped on in indignant disorder and agitation. The pretence -was so apparent even to myself. But I remained speechless. For while -he spoke, looking me calmly in the eye, without a sign of <em>arrière -pensée</em>, I realised in a flash—that it all was true. Like the witness -who still believes in his indignant answers until the lawyer puts -questions that confound him by unexpected self-revelation—I suddenly -saw—myself. My own heart opened in a blaze of fire. It was the truth.</p> - -<p>And all this came upon me, not in a flash, but in a series of flashes. -I had not known it. I now discovered myself, but for the first time. -Layer after layer dropped away. The naked fact shone clearly.</p> - -<p>“It is exactly what I hoped,” he went on quietly. “It proves memory -beyond all further doubt. A love like yours and hers can never die. -Even another thirty thousand years could make no difference—the -instant you met you would be bound to take it up again—exactly where -you left it off—no matter how long the interval of separation. The -first sign would be this divine and natural intimacy.”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - -<p>How I said it passes my understanding. I swear my lips moved without -my mind’s consent. The words slipped out. I couldn’t help myself. The -same instant some words he had used in our Edinburgh days came back to -me: that human love was somehow necessary to him, since love was the -greatest power in the world, the supreme example of “feeling-with.” -Without its aid—that majestic confidence it brings—his great -experiment must be impossible and fail. That union which is love was -necessary.</p> - -<p>I felt an extraordinary exultation, an extraordinary tumult of delight, -and—a degrading flush of shame. I felt myself blushing under his -quiet gaze while the blood rushed over neck and cheeks and forehead. -Both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> guilty and innocent I felt. The very sun and trees, it seemed, -witnessed my nakedness. I stumbled as I moved beside my friend, and it -was my friend who caught my arm and steadied me.</p> - -<p>“Good God, Julius,” I remember stammering, “but what in the name of -heaven are you saying?”</p> - -<p>“The truth,” he answered, smiling. “And do not for a moment think of -me as unnatural or a monster. For this is all inevitable and right and -good. It means our opportunity has come at last. It also means that you -have not failed me.”</p> - -<p>I was glad he went on talking. I am a fool, I know it. I am -weak, susceptible and easily influenced. I have no claim to any -strength of character, nor ever had. But, without priggishness or -self-righteousness, I can affirm that hitherto I have never done -another man deliberate, conscious injury, or wronged a personal -friend—never in all my days. I can say that, and for the satisfaction -of my conscience I did say it, and kept on saying it in my thought -while listening to the next words that Julius uttered there beside me.</p> - -<p>“And so, quite naturally, from your point of view,” he pursued, “you -are afraid for <em>her</em>. I am delighted; for it proves again the strength -of the ineradicable, ancient tie. My union, remember, is not, properly -speaking, love; it is the call of sympathy, of friendship, of something -that we have to do together, of a claim that has the drive of all the -universe behind it. And if I have felt it wise and right and necessary -to”—he must have felt the shudder down the arm he held, for he said -it softly, even tenderly—“give to her a child, it is because her -entire nature needs it, and maternity is the woman’s first and ultimate -demand of her present stage in life. Without it she is never quite -complete....”</p> - -<p>“A child!”</p> - -<p>“A child,” he repeated firmly but with a kind of reverent gravity, “for -otherwise her deepest functions are not exercised and——”</p> - -<p>“And?” I asked, noticing the slight pause he made.</p> - -<p>“The soul—her complete and highest self—never takes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> full possession -of her body. It hovers outside. She misses the full, entire object of -her reincarnation. The child, you see, was necessary—for her sake as -well as for my own—for ours.”</p> - -<p>Thought, speech and action—all three stood still in me. I stopped in -my walk, half paralysed. I remember we sat down.</p> - -<p>“And she,” I said at length, “knows nothing—of all this?”</p> - -<p>“She,” he replied, “knows everything, and is content. Her mind and -brain of To-day may remain unaware; but <em>she</em>—the soul now fully in -her—knows all, and is content, as you shall see. She has her debt to -pay as well as myself—and you.”</p> - -<p>For a long time we sat there silent in that sweet September sunshine. -The birds sang round us, the rivulet went murmuring, the branches -sighed and rustled just behind us, as though no problems vexed their -safe, unconscious lives. Yet to me just then they all seemed somehow to -participate in this complex plot of human emotion. Nature herself in -some deep fashion was involved.</p> - -<p>No man, I realised, knows himself, nor understands the acts of which -he is potentially capable, until certain conditions bring them out. We -imagine we know exactly how we should act in given circumstances—until -those circumstances actually arrive and dislocate all our preconceived -decisions. For the “given circumstances” produce emotions before whose -stress—not realised when the decisions were so lightly made—we act -quite otherwise. I could have sworn, for instance, that in a case like -this—incredible though its ever happening must have seemed—I should -then and there have taken my departure. I should have left. I would -have gone without a moment’s hesitation, and let him follow his own -devices without my further assistance at any rate. I would have been -furious with anyone who dared to state the contrary.</p> - -<p>Yet it was exactly the opposite I did. The first instinct to clear out -of this outrageous situation—proved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> impossible. It was not for her -I remained; it was equally not for him; and it was assuredly not for -myself in any meaning of the words. But yet I stayed. I could no more -have gone away than I could have—made love to her before his eyes, -or even not before his eyes. I argued, reasoned, moralised—but I -stayed. It was over very soon—what there was of doubt and hesitation. -While we sat there side by side upon that sunny mountain slope, I -came to the clear decision that I could not go. But why, or how, I -stayed is something beyond my powers to explain. Perhaps, <em>au fond</em>, -it was because I believed in Julius LeVallon—believed, that is, in -his innate uprightness and rectitude and nobility of soul. It was all -beyond me. I could not understand. But—I had this strange belief in -him. My relationship with her was, and would remain on both sides, a -subconscious one—a memory. There would be no betrayal anywhere. I -resolved to see it through.</p> - -<p>“I ask nothing but your presence,” I heard him saying presently; “if -not actively sympathetic, at least not actively hostile. It is the sum -of forces you bring with you that I need. They are in your atmosphere, -whether expressed or merely latent. You are <em>you</em>.” He watched me as -he said this. “I failed once before, you remember,” he added, “because -<em>she</em> was absent. Your desertion now would render success again -impossible.”</p> - -<p>He took my hand in his. A tender, even beseeching note crept into his -deep voice. “Help me,” he concluded, “if you will. You bring your -entire past with you, though you know it not. It is that Past that our -reconstruction needs.”</p> - -<p>A wind from the south, I remember, blew the firs behind us into low, -faint sighing, and with the exquisite sound there stole a mingled joy -and yearning on my soul. Perhaps some flower of memory in that moment -yielded up its once familiar perfume, dim, ancient, yet not entirely -forgotten. The sighing of the forest wafted it from other times and -other places. Wonder and beauty touched me; I knew longing, but a -longing so acutely poignant that it seemed not of this little earth -at all. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> fragrance and power of other stars, I could have sworn, -lay in it. The pang of some long, long sweetness made me tremble. An -immense ideal rose and beckoned with that whispering wind among the -Jura pine woods, and a grandeur, remote but of ineffable sweetness, -stirred through the undergrowths of a half-claimed, half-recognised -consciousness within me.</p> - -<p>I was aware of this incalculable emotion. Ancient yearnings seemed on -the verge of coaxing loved memories into the light of day. I burned, -I trembled, I suffered atrociously, yet with a rush of blind delight -never before realised by me on earth. Then, suddenly, and wholly -without warning, the desire for tears came over me in a flood.... -Control <em>was</em> possible, but left no margin over. Somehow I managed -it, so that no visible sign of this acute and extraordinary collapse -should appear. It seemed, for a moment, that the frame of my modern -personality was breaking down under the stress of new powers unleashed -by my meeting with these two in this enchanted valley. Almost, another -order of consciousness supervened ... then passed without being quite -accomplished.... I heard the singing of the trees in the low south wind -again. I saw the clouds sailing across the blue foreign sky. I saw -<em>his</em> eyes upon me like twin flames. With the greatest difficulty I -found speech possible in that moment.</p> - -<p>“I can promise, at least, that I will not be hostile. I can promise -that,” I said in a low and faltering tone.</p> - -<p>He made no direct reply; least of all did it occur to him to thank -me. The storm that had shaken me had apparently not touched him. His -tone was quiet and normal as he continued speaking, though its depth -and power, with that steady drive of absolute conviction behind, could -never leave it quite an ordinary voice.</p> - -<p>“She, as I told you, knows nothing in her surface mind,” I heard. -“Beyond occasional uprushes of memory that have come to her lately -in dreams—she tells them naïvely, confusedly in the morning -sometimes—she is aware of no more than a feeling of deep content, and -that our union is right in the sense of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> being inevitable. Her pleasure -that you have come is obvious. And more,” he added, “I do not wish the -older memories to break through yet, for that might wake pain or terror -in her and, therefore, unconscious opposition.”</p> - -<p>He touched my arm a moment, looking at me with a significant -expression. It was a suggestive thing he said: “For human -consciousness is different at different periods, remember, and ages -remotely separated cannot understand each other. Their points of -view, their modes of consciousness, are too different. In <em>her</em> -deeper state—separated by so huge an interval from the nineteenth -century—with its origin long before we came to live upon this little -earth—she would not, could not understand. There would be no sympathy; -there might be terror; there must certainly be failure.”</p> - -<p>I murmured something or other, heaven alone knows what it was.</p> - -<p>“What we think fine and wonderful may then have seemed the crudest -folly, superstition, wickedness—and vice versa. Look at the few -thousand years of history we have—and you’ll see the truth of this. We -cannot grasp how certain periods could possibly have done the things -they did.” He paused, then added in a lower tone, more to himself -than to me: “So with what we have to do now—though exceptional, -utterly exceptional—it is a remnant that we owe to Nature—to the -universe—and we must see it through....” His voice died away.</p> - -<p>“I understand,” my voice dropped into the open pause he left.</p> - -<p>“Though you neither believe nor welcome,” he replied.</p> - -<p>“My promise,” I said quietly, “holds good. Also”—I blushed and -half-stammered over the conventional words—“I will do nothing that can -cause possible offence—to anyone.”</p> - -<p>The hand that rested on my arm tightened its grasp a little. He made no -other sign. It was remarkable how the topic that must have separated -two other men—any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> two other men in the world, I suppose—had been -subtracted from our relationship, laid aside as dealt with and -admitted, calling for no further mention even. It all seemed, in some -strange way, impersonal almost—another attitude to life—a faint sign, -it may well have been, of that older mode of consciousness he spoke -about.</p> - -<p>I hardly recognised myself, so complete was the change in me, and so -swiftly going forward. This dragnet from the Past drew ever closer. -If the mind in me resisted still, it seemed rather from some natural -momentum acquired by habit, than from any spontaneous activity due to -the present. The modern, upper self surrendered.</p> - -<p>“How soon?” was the question that seemed to come of its own accord; it -was certainly not my confused and shaken mind that asked it. “When do -you propose to——”</p> - -<p>He answered without a sign of hesitation. “The Autumnal Equinox. You’ve -forgotten <em>that</em>,” he added as though he justified my lack of memory -here, “for all the world has forgotten it too—the science of Times and -Seasons—the oldest known to man. It was true cosmic knowledge, but so -long ago that it has left our modern consciousness as though it never -had existed even.”</p> - -<p>He stopped abruptly. I think he desired me to discover for myself, -unguided, unhampered by explanation. And, at the words, something -remote and beautiful did stir, indeed, within me. A curtain drew -aside....</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> -<h3><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Some</span> remnant of ghostly knowledge quickened. Behind the mind and brain, -in that region, perhaps, where thought ceases and intuition offers -her amazing pageant, there stirred—reality. Times and seasons, I -seemed to realise, have spiritual importance; there is a meaning in -months and hours; if noon is different from six o’clock, what happens -at noon varies in import from what happens at six o’clock, although -the happening itself at both moments be identical. An event holds its -minimum or its maximum of meaning according to the moment when it -happens. Its effectiveness varies with the context.</p> - -<p>Power is poured out, or power is kept back. To ask a man for energetic -action when he is falling asleep is to court refusal; to expect life of -him when he is overflowing with vitality and joy is probably to obtain -it. The hand is stretched out to give, or the hand is withheld.</p> - -<p>With the natural forces of the earth—it now dawned upon me—the method -was precisely similar. Nature and human-nature reacted differently -at different moments. At the moment of equilibrium called “equinox,” -there was a state of balance so perfect that this balance could be most -easily, most naturally—transcended.</p> - -<p>And objects in the outer world around me changed. Their meaning, -ordinarily superficial, appeared of incalculable significance. The -innate activities of Nature, the elements, I realised indeed as -modes of life; the communication Julius foreshadowed, a possible and -<em>natural</em> thing.</p> - -<p>Someone, I believe, was speaking of these and similar things—words -came floating on the wind, it seemed—yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> with meanings so remote -from all that my mind of To-day deemed possible, that I scarcely knew -whether it was the voice of my companion speaking, or a voice of -another kind, whispering in my very blood.</p> - -<p>In Bâle a week ago, or in London six weeks ago, such theories would -have left me cold. Now, at this particular juncture, they came with a -solemn beauty I can only account for by the fact that I had changed -into almost another being. My mind seemed ready for anything and -everything. No modern creeds and dogmas could confine my imagination....</p> - -<p>I had entered a different cycle of operation. I felt these ideas -all-over-me. The brain might repeat insistently “this is false, -this is superstition”; but something bigger than reason steadily -overrode the criticism. My point of view had changed. In some new way, -strangely exciting, I saw everything at once. My entire Self became the -percipient, rather than my five separate senses. In Nature all around -me another language uttered. It was the cosmic sense that stirred and -woke. It was another mode of consciousness.</p> - -<p>We three, it came upon me, were acting out some omitted detail of a -great world-purpose. The fact that <em>she</em> forgot, that I was ignorant, -that Julius LeVallon seemed guilty of unmoral things—these were but -ripples upon the deep tide that bore us forward. We were uttering a -great sentence we had left unfinished. I knew not exactly what was -coming, only that we had begun its utterance ages before the present, -and probably upon a planet nearer to the sun than our younger earth. -The verb had not yet made its appearance in this sentence, but it would -presently appear and explain the series of acts, and, meanwhile, I -must go on acting and wondering what it all could mean. I thought of -a language that first utters the nouns and adjectives, then adds the -verb at the end, explaining the whole series of unmeaning sounds. Our -“experiment” was the verb.</p> - -<p>Then came the voice of Julius suddenly:</p> - -<p>“Fate is the true complement of yourself; it completes your nature. By -doing it, you become one with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> your surroundings. Note attitude and -gesture—of yourself and of everything. They are signs. Our attitudes -must coincide with that of the earth to the heavens—possible only -at the Equinox. We must feel with her. We then act with her. Do not -resist. Let this valley say to you what it will. Regard it, and regard -our life here at the moment, as a symbol, clothed in a whole story of -information, the story varying with every hour of the day and with the -slightest change of the earth in relation to the universe.”</p> - -<p>It seemed I watched the track of some unknown animal upon the ground, -and tried to reconstruct the entire creature. Such imprint is but a -trace of the invisible being that has made it. All about this valley -there were tracks offering a hint of Beings that had left them—that -any moment might reveal themselves. Julius talked on in his calm and -unimpassioned way. I both understood and could not understand. I -realised that there is a language for the mind, but no language for the -spirit. There are no words in which to express big cosmic meanings. -Action—a three-dimensional language—alone could be their vehicle. -The knowledge must be performed—acted out in ceremony. Comprehension -filtered into me, though how I cannot say.</p> - -<p>“Symbols are merely the clues,” he went on. “It is a question of -stimulating your own imagination. Into the images created by your own -activities the meaning flows. You must play with them and let them play -with you. They depend for their meaning on history and happenings, -and vary according to their setting—the time of day or night, the -season of the year, the year itself, the exact relation of your Self -to every other Self, human <em>or otherwise</em>, in the universe. Let your -life and activities now arrange themselves in such a way that they -shall demonstrate the workings of the elemental powers you feel about -you. Every automatic activity of your body, every physiological process -in you, links you on to this great elemental side of things. Be open -now to the language of action. Think of the motion of all objects<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> -here as connected with the language of symbols, a living, ever-moving -language, and do not allow your mind to mutilate the moods that come -upon you. Let your nerves, if they will, come into contact with the -Nature Powers, and so realise that the three kingdoms are alive. Watch -your own automatic activities—I mean what you do unconsciously without -deliberate thinking. For what you do consciously you are learning, -but what you do unconsciously you have learned before. We have to -<em>become</em> the performance by acting it—instantaneous understanding. -All such attitudes are language, and the power to read it comes from a -synthetical, intuitive feeling of the entire being. The heart may get -one letter only, but that letter is a clue, an omen. A moth flies into -the room and everything immediately looks different; it remains the -same, yet means something different. It’s like the vowel in the ancient -languages—put in later, according to the meaning. You have, I know, -forgotten”—he paused a moment and put his hand on my shoulder—“but -every wind that blows across our valley here, and every change in -temperature that lowers or raises the heat and fire of your own -particular system”—he looked at me with a power in bearing and gesture -impossible to describe—“is a sign and hint of whether——”</p> - -<p>He stopped, glancing suddenly down the steep grass slopes. A breeze -stirred the hair upon his forehead. It brushed my eyes and cheeks as -well. I felt as though a hand had touched me as it passed invisibly. -A momentary sensation of energy, of greater life swept over me, then -disappeared as though the wind had borne it off.</p> - -<p>“Of whether your experiment will be successful?” I broke in.</p> - -<p>Turning his eyes from the sunny valley to my face again, he said slowly:</p> - -<p>“These Powers can only respond to the language they understand. My -deliverance must be experienced, acted out.”</p> - -<p>“A ceremony?” I asked, wondering uneasily what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> “acts of language” he -might demand of me and of another.</p> - -<p>“To restore them finally—where they rightfully belong,” he answered, -“I must become them. There is no other way.”</p> - -<p>How little intelligible result issued from this conversation must -be apparent from the confused report here given, yet that something -deep and true was in <em>his</em> mind lay beyond all question. At the back -of my own, whence no satisfactory sentences could draw it out into -clean description, floated this idea that the three of us were already -acting out some vast, strange ceremonial in which Nature, indeed the -very earth and heavens themselves, were acting with us. There was this -co-operation, this deep alliance. The “experiment” we approached would -reveal itself in natural happenings and circumstances. Action was to -take the place of words, conveying meaning as speech or handwriting -conveys a message. The attitude of ourselves, the very grouping of -inanimate objects, of trees and hills, the effects of light and shade, -the moods of day and night, above all, the time and season of the year -which is nothing but the attitude of the earth towards the rest of the -universe—all these, as modes of intelligent expression, would belong -to the strange performance. They were the conscious gestures of the -universe. If I could <em>feel-with</em> them, interpretation would be mine.</p> - -<p>And, that I understood even this proved memory. “You will gradually -become conscious,” he said, “of various signs about you. Analyse these -signs. But analyse them with a view to creating language. For language -does not create ideas; Ideas become language. Put the vowels in. When -communication begins to be established, the inanimate world here will -talk to you as in the fairy tales—seem alive. Play with it, as you -play with symbols in algebra before you rise to the higher mathematics. -So, notice and think about anything that”—he emphasised the verb -significantly—“<em>draws</em> your attention. Do not point out at the moment; -that’s compulsion and rouses opposition; just be aware and accept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span> by -noticing. And do not concentrate too much; what flows in must also -be able to flow out; otherwise there comes congestion, and so—fear. -In this valley the channels all are open, and wonder everywhere. The -more you wonder, the more your memory will come back and consciousness -extend. Great language has no words. The only way to grow in -consciousness is to be for ever changing your ideas and point of view. -Accept Nature here. Feel like a tree and then like a star. Be violent -with wind, and burn with fire. These things are forgotten To-day -because Wonder has left the world—and with it worship. So do not be -ashamed to wonder at anything you notice. It all lies in you—I know -that—and here it will rise to the surface.” He laughed. “If a woman,” -he went on, “wears embroidered lilies on her dress, all London seems -full of flower-sellers. They were there before, but she had nothing in -herself to make her conscious of them. Notice all the little things, -for you are a portion of the universe as much as Sirius or Vega, and -in living relation with every other atom. You can share Nature, and -here in our secret valley you may welcome her without alarm. The cosmic -organism, denied by civilisation, survives in you as it survives also -in myself and in—my wife. Through that, and through that alone, is the -experiment possible to us.”</p> - -<p>And it flashed into me that my visit to this enchanted valley would -witness no concentrated, miniature “ceremonial,” reduced in form for -worship as in a church or temple, but that all we did and experienced -in the course of normal, every-day life would mark the outlines of this -vast performance. Understanding would come that way.</p> - -<p>And then the mention of his “wife” brought me sharply back to emotions -of—another kind. My thought leaped back again—by what steps I cannot -say, it seemed so disconnected with what had just occupied my mind—to -his statement of ten minutes before.</p> - -<p>“By becoming them,” I asked, “you mean that you must feel-with wind and -fire to the point of being them?”</p> - -<p>“You think this might be done alone, without your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> help or hers?” he -asked, picking the thought straight out of my mind. “But only a group -could have done what we did—a group, moreover, in perfect sympathy. -For as love between the three of us was essential to success then, so -is love between us essential now. A group, combined by love into a -unit, exerts a power impossible to an individual. The secret of our -power lies in that—ideal love and perfect sympathy.”</p> - -<p>I listened, sure of one thing only—that I would keep an open mind. -To deny, object, criticise, above all to ridicule would rob me of an -experience. I believe honestly this was my attitude: to miss no value -that might be in it by assuming it was nonsense merely because it -was so strange. Apart from the curious fact that something in me was -sympathetic to a whole world of deep ideas behind his language, I felt -the determined desire to see the matter through. There was no creed or -religious dogma in me to offend. I made myself receptive. For, out of -this singular exposition the conviction grew that I was entering almost -a new order of existence, and that an earlier mode of consciousness -revived.</p> - -<p>In this lonely valley, untouched by the currents of modern thought -and feeling, companioned by Julius LeVallon and that old, recovered -soul, his wife, the conditions of our previous existence together -perhaps re-formed themselves. Behind his talk came ideas that wore an -aspect of familiarity, although my present brain, try as it might, -failed to mould them into any acceptable form. The increasing change -in myself was certainly significant. The crumbling of old shibboleths -continued. A relationship between my inner nature and the valley seemed -established in some way that was new, yet not entirely forgotten. The -very sunlight and the wind assisted. Closer to the natural things I -felt, the earth not alien to me....</p> - -<p>We had neared the châlet again. I saw the peat smoke rising against -the background of the ridges. The “man” was whistling at his work in -the yard behind the building. The column of smoke, I remember, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> -agitated by the wind towards the top; it turned, blew downwards. No -other sign of movement was anywhere visible, for in the bottom of the -hollow where we now stood, the wind did not even stir the isolated -larches or tall yellow gentians. Sunshine flooded everything. Out -of this peace and stillness then came a sudden cry and the sight of -something moving rapidly—both from the châlet.</p> - -<p>“Julius!” called a shrill voice, as the figure of Mrs. LeVallon, with -flying hair and skirts, came running over the meadow towards us. -“Julius!—Professor! Quick!”</p> - -<p>The voice and figure startled me; both came, it seemed, out of some -other place; a picture from my youth rose up—a larch grove in October -upon the Pentland Hills. I experienced a sense of deep and thrilling -beauty similar to what I had felt then. But as I watched the slim, -hurrying figure I was aware of another thing that left me breathless: -For with her, as she passed through chequered sun and shadow along -the fringe of forest, there moved something else enormously larger -than herself. It was in the air about her. Like that strange Pentland -memory, it whirled. It was formless, and owing to its huge proportions -gave the impression of moving slowly, yet its very formlessness was -singularly impressive and alive, so that the word “body” sprang -instantly into my mind. Actually it moved at a tremendous speed.</p> - -<p>In my first confusion and bewilderment I remember saying aloud in sheer -amazement: “a fragment of the day has broken off; it’s clothed in wind -and sunlight!”</p> - -<p>A phrase quite meaningless, of course, yet somehow accurately -descriptive, for it appealed to me as a fragment of conditionless, -universal activity that had seized upon available common elements to -furnish itself a visible appearance. I got the astounding suggestion -that it was heat and air moving under intelligent and conscious -direction. Combined with its airy lightness there was power, for in -its brief, indeed its instantaneous, appearance I felt persuaded of an -irresistible strength that no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> barrier of solid matter could possibly -withstand. At the same time it was transparent, for I saw the trees -upon its further side. It passed ahead of the human figure, so close it -seemed to touch her dress, rose with a kind of swift, driving plunge -into the air, slipped meltingly into the clean blue colour of the -atmosphere—and disappeared.</p> - -<p>And so swift was the entire presentment of the thing, that even while -I tried to focus my sight upon it to make sure I was not deceived, it -had both come and gone. The same second Julius caught my arm. I heard -him utter a quick, low cry, stifled instantly. He gasped. He quivered. -I heard him whispering:</p> - -<p>“Already! Your presence here—the additional forces that <em>you</em> -bring—are known and recognised! See, how complete we are—a unit—you, -she and I—a trinity!”</p> - -<p>A coldness not of this world touched me as I heard. But that first -sense of joy and beauty followed. I felt it true—the three of us were -somehow one.</p> - -<p>“You saw it too?” I asked, exhilaration still about me.</p> - -<p>“They are everywhere and close,” he whispered quickly, as the running -figure came on toward us, “breaking out into visible manifestation -even. Hold yourself strong and steady. Remember, your attitude of mind -and feeling are important. Each detail of behaviour is significant.”</p> - -<p>His anxiety, I realised, was for us, not for himself. Already, it -seemed, our souls were playing vital rôles in some great dramatic -ceremonial just beginning. What we did and felt and thought was -but a partial expression of something going forward with pregnant -completeness behind the visible appearances all round. Mrs. LeVallon -stood breathless in front of us. She was hatless, her hair becomingly -dishevelled; her arms bare to the elbow and white with flour. She -stopped, placed her hands upon her hips, and panted for a full minute -before she could get breath enough to speak. Her eyes, a deep, luminous -sea-green, looked into ours. Her face was pale, yet the emotion was -excitement rather than alarm. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> was aware of a superb, nymph-like -grace and charm about her. I caught my breath. Julius made no movement, -spoke no word. I wondered. I made a step forward to catch her. But she -did not fall; she merely sank down upon the ground at our feet.</p> - -<p>“Julius,” she panted, “that thing I’ve dreamed about so of<em>t</em>en——”</p> - -<p>She stopped short, glancing up at me, the eyes, charged with a sweet -agitation, full upon my own. I turned to Julius with a gesture of -uncontrollable impatience.</p> - -<p>He spoke calmly, sitting down on the slope beside her. “You felt it -again—the effect of your vivid dreaming? Or did you this time—see -anything?”</p> - -<p>The swiftness and surprise of the little scene had been bewildering, -but the moment he spoke confusion and suspense both vanished. The sound -of his quiet voice restored the threatened balance. Peace came back -into the sunlight and the air. There was composure again.</p> - -<p>“You certainly were not frightened!” he added, as she made no reply. -“You look too happy and exhilarated for that.” He put his hand on hers.</p> - -<p>I sat down then beside her, and she turned and looked at me with a -pathetic mingling of laughter and agitation still in her wide-opened -eyes. The three of us were close together. He kept his hand on hers. -Her shoulder touched me. I was aware of something very wonderful there -between us. We comforted her, but it was more, far more, than that. -There was sheer, overflowing happiness in it.</p> - -<p>“It came into the house,” she said, her breath recovered now, and her -voice gentle. “It follered me—out here. I ran.” She looked swiftly -round at me. The radiance in her face was quite astonishing, turning -her almost beautiful. Her eyelids quivered a moment and the corners of -her lips seemed trying to smile—or not to smile. She was happy there, -sitting between us two. Yet there was nothing light or foolish in her. -Something of worship rose in me as I watched her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well,” urged Julius, “and then—what?” I saw him watching me as well -as her. “You remembered your dream, you felt something, and—you ran -out here to us. What else?”</p> - -<p>She hesitated deliciously. But it was not that she wanted coaxing. She -evidently knew not how to tell the thing she had to say. She looked -hard into my face, her eyes keenly searching.</p> - -<p>“It has something to do with <em>him</em>, you mean?” asked Julius, noting the -direction of her questioning gaze.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m glad he’s here,” she answered quickly. “It’s the best thing -that could happen.” And she looked round again at Julius, moving her -hand upon his own.</p> - -<p>“We need him,” said Julius simply with a smile. Then, suddenly, she -took my hand too, and held it tightly. “He’s a protection, I think, as -well,” she added quite gravely; “that’s how I feel him.” Her hand lay -warm and fast on mine.</p> - -<p>There was a pause. I felt her fingers strongly clasp my own. The three -of us were curiously linked together somehow by those two hands of -hers. A great harmony united us. The day was glorious, the power of the -sun divine, there was power in the wind that touched our faces.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she continued slowly, “I think it had to do with him—with -<em>you</em>, Professor,” she repeated emphatically, fixing her bright gaze -upon me. “I think you brought it—brought my dream back—brought that -thing I dreamed about into—the house itself.” And in her excitement -she said distinctly “’ouse.”</p> - -<p>I found no word to say at the moment. She kept her hand firmly upon -mine.</p> - -<p>“I was making bread there, by the back winder as usual,” she went -on, “when suddenly I started thinking of that splendid dream I’ve -had so of<em>t</em>en—of you,” looking at her husband, “and me and another -man—that’s <em>you</em> I’m sure,” she gazed at me—“all three of us doing -some awful thing together in a place underground somewhere, but dressed -quite different to what we are now,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> and standing round a lot of people -sleeping in a row—when something we expected, yet were frightened at, -used to come in—and give me such a start that I always woke up before -knowing what was really going to happen.”</p> - -<p>She paused a second. She was confused. Her sentences ran into each -other.</p> - -<p>“Well, I was making the bread there when the wind came in with a bang -and sent the flour in a cloud all over everything—look! You can see -it over my dress still—and with it, sort of behind it, so to speak, -something followed with a rush—oh, an enormous rush and scurry it -was—and I thought I was rising in the air, or going to burn to pieces -by the heat that came in with it. I felt big like—as the sea when -you get out of your depth and feel yourself being carried away. I -screamed—and the three of us were all together in a moment, just as in -the dream, you know—and we were glad, tremendously glad, because we’d -got something we wanted that made us feel as if we could do anything, -oh, anything in the world—a sort of ’eavenly power I think it was—and -then, just as we were going to use our power and do all kinds of things -with it, someone—I don’t know who it was, for I never can see the -face—a man, though—one of those sleeping figures—rose up and came at -us all in a fury, and—well, I don’t know exactly, but it all turned -out a failure somehow—It got terrible then——” She looked like a -flash of lightning into my face, then dropped her eyes again.</p> - -<p>“You acted out your dream, as it were?” interrupted Julius a moment.</p> - -<p>She looked at him with a touch of wonder. “I suppose so,” she said, -and let go both our hands. “Only this time someone really did come in -and caught me just as I seemed going out of myself—it may have been -fainting, but I don’t think so, for I’m never one to faint—more like -being carried off in a storm, a storm with wind and fire in it——”</p> - -<p>“It was the ‘man’ caught you?” I asked quickly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span></p> - -<p>“The man, yes,” she continued. “I didn’t fall. He caught me just in -time; but my wind was gone—gone clean out of me as though someone had -knocked me down.”</p> - -<p>“He said nothing?” Julius asked.</p> - -<p>She looked sharply at him. “Nothing,” she answered, “not a single word. -I ran away. He frightened me. For a moment—I was that confused with -remembering my dream, I suppose; so I just pushed him off and ran out -here to find you both. I’d been watching you for a long time while I -was mixing the dough.”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad he was close enough to help you,” put in Julius.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she explained, “I’ve a sort of idea he was watching me and saw -the thing coming, for he’d been in and out of the kitchen for half an -hour before, asking me silly questions about whether I wanted this or -that, and fussing about”—she laughed at her own description—“just -like an old faithful dog or something.”</p> - -<p>We all laughed together then.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad I found you so quickly,” she concluded, “because while I was -running up here I felt that something was running with me—something -that was burning and rushing—like a bit of what was in the house.”</p> - -<p>She stopped, and a shadow passed across her eyes, changing their colour -to that nondescript grey tint they sometimes wore. The wonderful -deep green went out of them. And for a moment there was silence that -seemed to fill the entire valley. Julius watched her steadily, strong -and comforting in his calmness. The valley, I felt, watched us too, -something protective in its perfect stillness. All signs of agitation -were gone; the wind sank down; the trees stood by in solemn rows; the -very clouds moved more slowly down the calm blue sky. I watched the -bosom of Mrs. LeVallon rise and fall as she recovered breath again. -She put her hands up to gather in the hair at the back of her head, -deftly tidying its disordered masses, and as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> she did so I felt her -gaze draw my own with a force I could not resist. We looked into each -other’s eyes for a full two minutes, no one speaking, no signs anywhere -exchanged, Julius watchfully observant close beside us; and though I -know not how to tell it quite, it is a fact that something passed from -those clear, discerning eyes into my heart, convincing me more than any -words of Julius ever could, that all he claimed about her and myself -was true. She was imperial somewhere.... She had once been mine....</p> - -<p>The cloud passed slowly from her face. To my intense relief—for I -had the dread that the silent gaze would any moment express itself in -fateful words as well. The muscles of her firm, wide mouth relaxed. She -broke into happy laughter suddenly.</p> - -<p>“It’s very silly of me to think and feel such things, or be troubled -by a dream,” she exclaimed, still holding my eyes, and her laughter -running over me like some message of forgiveness. “We shall frighten -him away,” she went on, turning now to Julius, “before he’s had time -to taste the new bread I’m making—for him.” Her manner was quiet -and composed again, natural, prettily gracious. I searched in vain -for something to say; the turmoil of emotion within offered too many -possible rejoinders; I could not choose. Julius, however, relieved me -of the necessity by taking her soothingly in both his arms and kissing -her. The next second, before I could move or speak, she leaned over -against my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek as well.</p> - -<p>Yet nothing happened; there was no sign anywhere that an unusual thing -had occurred; I felt that the sun and wind had touched me. It was as -natural as shaking hands. Ah! but the sun and wind were magical with -life!</p> - -<p>“There!” she laughed happily, “we’re all three together and -understanding, and nothing can go wrong. Isn’t it so, Julius?” And, -if there was archness in her voice and manner, there was certainly no -trace of that mischief which can give offence. “And you understand, -Professor, don’t you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span></p> - -<p>I saw him take her hand and stroke it. He showed no more resentment -than if she had handed me a flower. And I tried to understand. I -struggled. I at least succeeded in keeping my attitude of thought and -feeling above destructive levels. We three were one; love made us so. A -devouring joy was in me, but with it the strange power of a new point -of view.</p> - -<p>“We couldn’t be together like this,” she laughed naïvely, “in a city. -It’s only here. It’s this valley and the sun and wind what does it.” -She looked round her. “All this sun and air, and the flowers, and the -forest and the clear cold little stream. Why, <em>I</em> believe, if we stay -here we shall never die at all. We’d turn into gods or something.”</p> - -<p>She murmured on half to herself, the voice sinking towards a -whisper—leaning over upon her husband’s breast, she stretched out -her hand and quietly took my own again. “It’s got much stronger,” I -heard, “since <em>he’s</em> come; it makes me feel closer to you too, Julius. -Only—he’s with us as well, just like—just as if we were all meant for -each other somehow.”</p> - -<p>There was pressure, yet no suggestive pressure, in the hand that held -my own. It just took me firmly, with a slight gesture of drawing me -closer to herself and to Julius too. It united us all three. And, -strange as it all was, I, for my part, was aware of no uneasiness, -no discomfort, no awkwardness certainly. I only felt that what she -said was true: we were linked together by some deep sympathy of -feeling-with; we were at one; we were marvellously fused by some tie of -universal life that this enchanted valley made apparent. Nature fused -with human nature, raising us all to a diviner level.</p> - -<p>There was a period of silence in which no one moved or spoke; and then, -to my relief, words came from Julius—natural and unforced, yet with a -meaning that I saw was meant for me:</p> - -<p>“The presence of so distinguished a man,” he said lightly, looking down -into her face with almost a boyish smile, “is bound to make itself felt -anywhere.” He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> glanced across at me significantly. “Even the forces of -Nature in this peaceful valley, you see, are aware of his arrival, and -have sent out messengers to greet him. Only,” he added, “they need not -be in such a hurry about it, need they—or so violent?”</p> - -<p>We all laughed together. It was the only reference he made in her -presence to what had happened. Nor did she ask a single question. We -lay a little longer, basking in the sunlight and breathing the fragrant -mountain air, and then Mrs. LeVallon sprang to her feet alertly, saying -that she must go and finish her bread. Julius went with her. I was left -alone—with the eerie feeling that more than these two had just been -with me....</p> - -<p>Less than an hour later the horizon darkened suddenly. Out of a -harmless sky appeared masses of ominous cloud. Wild gusts of hot, -terrific wind rushed sideways over the swaying forest. The trees shook -to their roots, groaning; they shouted; loosened stones fell rattling -down the nearer gullies; and, following a minute of deep silence, -there blazed forth then a wild glory of lightning such as I have never -witnessed. It was a dancing sea of white and violet. It came from every -quarter of the sky at once with a dazzling fury as though the entire -atmosphere were set on fire. The wind and thunder shook the mountains. -From a cupful of still, sweet sunshine, our little valley changed into -a scene of violent pandemonium. The precipices tossed the echoing -thunder back and forth, the clear stream beside the châlet became a -torrent of foaming, muddy water, and the wind was of such convulsive -turbulence that it seemed to break with explosive detonations that -menaced the upheaval of all solid things. There was a magnificence in -it all as though the universe, and not a small section of the sky, -produced it.</p> - -<p>It passed away again as swiftly as it came. At lunch time the sun -blazed down upon a drenched and laughing scene, washed as by magic, -brilliant and calm as though made over all afresh. The air was limpid; -the forest poured out perfume; the meadows shone and twinkled.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span></p> - -<p>During the assault I saw neither Julius nor the Man, but in the -occasional deep pauses I heard the voice of Mrs. LeVallon singing gaily -while she kneaded bread at the kitchen “winder” just beneath my own. -She, at any rate, was not afraid. But, while it was in progress, I went -alone to my room and watched it, caught by a strange sensation of power -and delight its grandeur woke in me, and also by a sense of wonder that -was on the increase.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h3> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>Why is she set so far, so far above me,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>And yet not altogether raised above?</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>I would give all the world that she should love me,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>My soul that she should never learn to love.</em>”—Mary Coleridge.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi">“<span class="smcap">The</span> channels here are open.”</p> - -<p>As the days went by the words remained with me. I recognised their -truth. Nature was pouring through me in a way I had never known before. -I had gone for a walk that afternoon after the sudden storm, and tried -to think things out. It was all useless. I could only feel. The stream -of this strange new point of view had swept me from known moorings; -I was in deep water now; there was exhilaration in the rush of an -unaccustomed tide. One part of me, hourly fading, weighed, criticised -and judged; another part accepted and was glad. It was like the -behaviour of a divided personality.</p> - -<p>“Your brain of To-day asks questions, while your soul of long ago -remembers and is sure.”</p> - -<p>I was constantly in the presence of Mrs. LeVallon. My “brain” was -active with a thousand questions. The answers pointed all one way. This -woman, so humbly placed in life to-day, rose clearer and clearer before -me as the soul that Julius claimed to be of ancient lineage. Respect -increased in me with every word, with every act, with every gesture. -Her mental training, obviously, was small, and of facts that men call -knowledge she had but few; but in place of these recent and artificial -acquirements she possessed a natural and spontaneous intelligence -that was swiftly understanding. She seized ideas though ignorant of -the words that phrased them; she grasped conceptions that have to -be hammered into minds the world regards as well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> equipped—seized -them naïvely, yet with exquisite comprehension. Something in her -discriminated easily between what was transitory and what was real, and -the glory of this world made evidently small appeal to her. No ordinary -ambition of vulgar aims was hers. Fame and position were no bait at -all; she cared nothing about being “somebody.” There was a touch of -unrest and impatience about her when she spoke of material things -that most folk value more than honour, some even more than character. -Something higher, yet apparently forgotten, drew her after it. The -pursuit of pleasure and sensation scarcely whispered to her at all, and -though her self-esteem was strong, personal vanity in the little sense -was quite a negligible quantity.</p> - -<p>This young wife had greatness in her. Domestic servant though she -certainly had been, she was distinguished in her very bones. A clear -ray of mental guidance and intuition ran like a gleam behind all -her little blunders of speech and action. To her, it was right and -natural, for instance, that her husband’s money should mostly be sent -away to help those who were without it. “We’re much better this way,” -she remarked lightly, remembering, perhaps, the life of detailed and -elaborate selfishness she once had served, “and anyhow I can’t wear -two dresses at the same time, can I? Or live in two houses—what’s the -good of all that? But for those who like it,” she added, “I expect -it’s right enough. They need it—to learn, or something. I’ve been in -families of the best that didn’t want for anything—but really they had -nothing at all.” It was in the little things I caught the attitude. -Although conditions here made it impossible to test it, I had more and -more the impression, too, that she possessed insight into the causes of -human frailty, and understood temptations she could not possibly have -experienced personally in this present life.</p> - -<p>An infallible sign of younger souls was their pursuit hot-foot of -pleasure and sensation, of power, fame, ambition. The old souls -leave all that aside; they have known its emptiness too often. -Their hall-mark lies in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> spiritual discernment, the power to choose -between the permanent and the transitory. Brains and intellect were -no criterion of development at all. And I reflected with a smile -how the “educated” and “social” world would close its doors to such -a woman—the common world of younger, cruder souls, insipid and -undistinguished, many of them but just beyond the animal stage—the -“upper classes”! The Kingdom of Heaven lies within, I remembered, and -the meek and lowly shall inherit the “earth.”</p> - -<p>And the “Dog-Man” also rose before me in another light—this -slow-minded, instinctive being whom elsewhere I should doubtless have -dismissed as “stupid.” His approximation to the instinctive animal life -became so clear. In his character and essential personality lay the -curious suggestion. Out of his frank gaze peered the mute and searching -appeal of the soul awakening into self-consciousness—a look of direct -and simple sincerity, often questioning, often poignant. The interval -between Mrs. LeVallon and himself was an interval of countless lives. -How welcome to him would be the support of a thought-out religious -creed, to her how useless! The different stages individuals occupy, how -far apart, how near, how various! I felt it all as true, and the effect -of this calm valley upon me was not sympathy with Nature only, but a -certain new sympathy with all the world. It was very wonderful.</p> - -<p>I watched the “man” with a new interest and insight—the proud and -self-conscious expression on his face as he moved constantly about us, -his menial services earnest and important. The safety of the entire -establishment lay upon his shoulders. He made the beds as he served the -coffee, cleaned the boots or lit the lamps at dusk, with a fine dignity -that betrayed his sense of our dependence on him—he would never fail. -He was ever on the watch. I could believe that he slept at night -with one eye open, muscles ready for a spring in case of danger. In -myself, at any rate, his signal devotion to our interest woke a kind of -affectionate wonder that touched respect. He was so eager and ready to -learn, moreover. The pathos in his face when found fault with was quite -appealing—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> curious dumb attitude, the air of mortification that he -wore: “I’m rather puzzled, but I shall know another time. I shall do -better. Only—I haven’t got as far as you have!”</p> - -<p>In myself, meanwhile, the change worked forward steadily. I was much -alone, for Julius, preoccupied and intense, was now more and more -engaged upon purposes that kept him out of sight. Much of the time -he kept to his room upstairs, but he spent hours, too, in the open, -among the woods and on the further ridges, especially at night. Not -always did he appear at meals even, and what intercourse I had was with -Mrs. LeVallon, so that our intimacy grew quickly, ripening with this -sense of sudden and delightful familiarity as though we had been long -acquainted. There was at once a happy absence of formality between us, -although a dignity and sweet reserve tempered our strange relationship -in a manner the ordinary world—I feel certain—could hardly credit. -Out of all common zones of danger our intercourse was marvellously -lifted, yet in a way it is difficult to describe without leaving the -impression that we were hardly human in the accepted vulgar meaning of -the words.</p> - -<p>But the truth was simple enough, the explanation big with glory. It -was that Nature included us, mothering all we said or did or thought, -above all, <em>felt</em>. Our intercourse was not a separate thing, apart, -shut off, two little humans merely aware of the sympathetic draw of -temperament and flesh. It was part of Nature, natural in the biggest -sense, a small, true incident in the processes of the entire cosmos -whose life we shared. The physical thing called passion, of course, was -present, yet a passion that the sun and wind took care of, spreading -it everywhere about us through the hourly happenings of “common” -things—in the wind that embraced the trees and then passed on, in the -rushing stream that caught the flowers on its bank, then let them go -again, in the fiery sunshine that kissed the earth while leaving the -cooling shadows beside every object that it glorified.</p> - -<p>All this seemed in some new fashion clear to me—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> passion degrades -because it is set exclusive and apart, magnified, idolatrised into a -false importance due to Nature’s being neglected and left outside. For -not alone the wind and sun and water shared our intercourse, knowing -it was well, but in some further sacramental way the whole big Earth, -the movements of the Sun, the Seasons, aye, and the armies of the other -stars in all their millions, took part in it, justifying its necessity -and truth. Without a trace of false exaltation in me I saw far, far -beyond even the poet’s horizon of love’s philosophy:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>Nothing in the world is single;</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>All things by a law divine</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>In one another’s being mingle—</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>Why not I with thine?</em>”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="noi">and so came again with a crash of fuller comprehension upon -the words of Julius that here we lived and acted out a Ceremony that -conveyed great teaching from a cosmic point of view. My relations with -Mrs. LeVallon, as our relations all three together, seen from this -grander angle, were not only possible and true: they were necessary. -We were a unit formed of three, a group-soul affirming truths beyond -the brain’s acceptance, proving universal, cosmic teaching in the only -feasible way—by acting it out.</p> - -<p>The scale of experience grew vast about me. This error of the past we -would set right was but an episode along the stupendous journey of our -climbing souls. The entire Present, the stage at which humanity found -itself to-day, was but a moment, and values worshipped now, and by -the majority rightly worshipped, would pass away, and be replaced by -something that would seem entirely new, yet would be in reality not -discovery but recovery.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h3> -</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>This mighty sea of Love, with wondrous tides,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>Is sternly just to sun and grain;</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>’Tis laving at this moment Saturn’s sides,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>’Tis in my blood and brain.</em>”—Alexander Smith.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">One</span> evening, as the shadows began to lengthen across the valley, I -came in from my walk, and saw Mrs. LeVallon on the veranda, looking -out towards the ridges now tipped with the sunset gold. Her back was -to me. One hand shaded her eyes; her tall figure was like a girl’s; -her attitude conveyed expectancy. I got the impression she had been -watching for me.</p> - -<p>She turned at the sound of my footstep on the boards. “Ah, I hoped -you’d get back before the dark,” she said, with a smile of welcome that -betrayed a touch of relief. “It’s so easy to get lost in those big -woods.” She led the way indoors, where a shaded lamp stood on the table -laid for tea. She talked on easily and simply. She had been washing -“hankercheefs,” and as the dusk came on had felt she “oughter” be -seeing where I’d got to. I thanked her laughingly, saying that she must -never regard me as a guest who had to be looked after, and she replied, -her big eyes penetratingly on my own—“Oh, I didn’t mean <em>that</em>, -Professor. I knew by instinc’ you were not one to need entertaining. I -saw it reely the moment you arrived. I was just wondering where you’d -got to and—whether you’d find your way back all right.” And then, as -I made no reply, she went on to talk about the housework, what fun it -was, how it amused her, and how different it was from working for other -people. “I could work all day and night, you see, when the results are -there, in sight. It’s working for others when you never see the result, -or what it leads to, and jest get paid so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> much a week or month, that -makes you tired. Seeing the result seems to take away fatigue. The -other’s simply toil. Now, come to tea. I do relish my cup of tea.”</p> - -<p>It was very still and peaceful in the house; the logs burned brightly -on the open hearth; Julius was upstairs in his room. The winds had gone -to sleep, and the hush of dusk crept slowly on the outside world.</p> - -<p>I followed my hostess into the corner by the fire where two deep -arm-chairs beside the table beckoned us. Rather severe she looked now -in a dark stuff dress, dignified, something half stately, half remote -about her attitude. The poise in her physical expression came directly -from the mind. She moved with grace, sure of herself, seductive too, -yet with a seduction that led the thoughts far beyond mere physical -attraction. It was the charm of a natural simplicity I felt.</p> - -<p>“I’ve taken up Julius his,” I heard her saying in her uncultivated -voice, as she began to pour out tea. “And I’ve made these—these sort -of flat unleavened cakes for us.” The adjective startled me. She -pointed to thin, round scone-like things that lay steaming in a plate. -But her eyes were fixed on mine as though they questioned.</p> - -<p>“You used to like ’em....”</p> - -<p>Or, whether she said “I hope you’ll like ’em,” I am not certain—for -a sudden sense of intimacy flashed between us and disconcerted me. -Perhaps it was the tone and gesture rather than the actual words. A -sweetness as of some deep, remembered joy rose in me.</p> - -<p>I started. There had been disclosure, a kind of revelation. A door -had opened. They were familiar to me—those small “unleavened cakes.” -Something of happiness that had seemed lost slipped back of its own -accord into my heart. My head swam a second. Some part of me was drawn -backwards. For, as I took the offered cake, there stole to my nostrils -a faint perfume that made me tremble. Elusive, ghostly sensations -dropped their hair-like tracery on the brain, then vanished utterly. It -was all dim, yet haunting as a dream. The perfume faded instantly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span></p> - -<p>“Thank you,” I murmured. “You make them deliciously ...” aware at the -same moment I had been about to say another thing in place of the empty -words, but had deliberately kept it back.</p> - -<p>The bewilderment came and went. Mrs. LeVallon dropped her eyes from -mine, although the question in their penetrating gaze still lingered. -I realised this new sense of intimacy that seemed uncannily perfect, -it was so natural. No suggestion lay in it of anything that should not -be, but rather the close-knit comfortable atmosphere of two minds that -were familiar and at home in silence. It deepened with every minute. It -seemed the deep companionship that many, many years had forged.</p> - -<p>Yet the moment of wonder had mysteriously come and gone. Even the aroma -of the little steaming cake was lost as well—I could not recapture -the faint odour. And it was my surface consciousness, surely, that -asked then about the recipe, and joined in the soft, familiar laughter -with which she answered that she “reely couldn’t say quite,” because -“it seemed to have come of its own accord while I was doing nothing in -particular with odds and ends about the cooking-stove.”</p> - -<p>“A very simple way,” I suggested, trying to keep my thoughts upon the -present, “a very easy way of finding new recipes,” whereupon, her -manner graver somewhat, she replied: “But, of course, I could make them -better if I stopped to think a bit first ... and had the proper things. -It’s jest my laziness. I know how—only”—she looked peeringly at me -again as with an air of searching for something I might supply—“I’ve -sort of mislaid something—forgot it, rather ... and I can’t, for the -life of me, remember where I learned it first.”</p> - -<p>There stirred between us into that corner of the lamp-lit room an -emotion that made me feel we used light words together as men use masks -upon their faces for disguise, fully aware that while the skin is -hidden the eyes are clear. My happiness seemed long-established. There -was a little pause in which the key sank deeper. Before I could find -anything to say, Mrs. LeVallon went on again:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span></p> - -<p>“There’s several things come to me like that these last few days——”</p> - -<p>“Since I came?” I could not prevent the question, nor could I hide the -pleasure in my voice.</p> - -<p>“That’s it,” she agreed instantly; “it’s as though you brought -them—back—simply by being here. It’s got to do with you.” Her elbows -were on the table, the chin resting on her folded hands as she stared -at me, both concentration and absent-mindedness in her expression -at the same time. Her thoughts were travelling, searching, beating -backwards into time. She leaned a little nearer to me suddenly, so that -I could almost feel her breath upon my face.</p> - -<p>“Like memories of childhood revived,” I said. My heart beat quickly. -There was great sweetness in me.</p> - -<p>“That’s it,” she repeated, but in a lowered tone. “That’s it, I think; -as if we’d been children together, only so far back I can’t hardly -remember.”</p> - -<p>She gazed again into my eyes, searching for words her untutored brain -could not supply. There was a moment of extraordinary tenseness. I felt -unsure of myself; uneasiness was in it, but a strange, lifting joy as -well. I knew an instant’s terror that either she or I might say an -undesirable thing.</p> - -<p>And to my relief just then the Man came clattering in with a cup -containing—cream! Her eyes left mine as with an effort. Drawing -herself free, yet not easily, from some inner entanglement that had -captured both of us, she turned and took the little cup. “There is no -proper cream jug,” she observed with a smile, dropping back into the -undisguised accent of the East Croydon fruiterer’s daughter, “but the -cream’s thick and good jest the same, and we’ll take it like this, -won’t we?” She stirred it with a spoon into my teacup.</p> - -<p>The “Man” stood watching us a moment with a questioning, puzzled look, -and then went out again. At the door he turned once more to assure -himself that all was as it should be, decided that it was so, and -vanished with a little run. Slowly, then, upon her face stole back -that graver aspect of the eyes and mouth; and into my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> own mind stole -equally a sense of deep confusion as I watched her—very delightful, -strangely sweet, but my first uneasiness oddly underlying it. -Instinctively I caught myself shrinking as from vague pain or danger. -I made a struggle to get free, but it was a feeble and half-hearted -effort. Mrs. LeVallon was saying exactly what I had known she was going -to say.</p> - -<p>“I’m all upset to-day,” she said with blunt simplicity, “and you must -excuse my manners. I feel sort of lost and queer. I can’t make it -out, but I keep forgettin’ who I am, and sometimes even where I am. -You”—raising her eyes from the plate to mine—“oughter be able to help -me. D’you know what I mean? Professor, sometimes, especially nights,” -her voice sinking as she said it, “I feel afraid of something——” She -paused, correcting herself suddenly. “Oh, no, it isn’t fear exactly, -you see, but a great happiness that seems too big to get hold of quite. -It’s jest out of reach always, and something’ll go wrong before it -reely comes.” She looked very hard at me. The strange sea-green eyes -became luminous. I felt power in her, a power she was not aware of -herself. “As if,” she continued earnestly, “there was some price to -pay for it—first. And somehow it’s for <em>you</em>—it’s what you’ve come -for——” She broke off suddenly.</p> - -<p>A touch of rapture caught me. It was only with strong effort that I -made a commonplace reply:</p> - -<p>“This valley, Mrs. LeVallon”—I purposely used the name and title—“is -exceedingly lonely; you are shut off from the world you are accustomed -to.” I tried to put firmness and authority into my words and manner. -“You have no companionship—of your own sex——”</p> - -<p>She brushed my explanation aside impatiently. “Oh, but it ain’t nothing -of that sort,” she exclaimed, seeing through my conventional words, and -knowing I realised that she did so; “it’s not loneliness, nor anything -ordin’ry like that. Julius is everything to me in <em>that</em> way. It’s -something bigger and quite different—that’s got worse, got stronger I -mean, since you came. But I like your being here,” she added quickly, -“because I feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> it’s jest the thing for Julius and for—for all of us. -Only, since you’ve been here it seems—well, it’s sort of coming to a -head.”</p> - -<p>I remained speechless. A kind of helplessness came over me. I could not -prevent it.</p> - -<p>“And mixed up with it,” she continued, not waveringly, but wholly -mistress of herself, “is the feeling that you’ve been here before -too—been with me. We’ve been together, and you know we have.” Her -cheek turned a shade paler; she was very earnest; there was deep -emotion in her. “That’s what I keep feelin’ for one thing. Everything -is that familiar—as if all three of us had been together before and -had come back again.” Her breath came faster.</p> - -<p>“You understand me, don’t you? When Julius told me you were coming, -it seemed quite natural, and I didn’t feel nothing of any kind except -that it was so natural; but the day you arrived I felt—afraid, though -always with this tremendous happiness behind it. And <em>that’s</em> why I -didn’t come down to meet you!” The words came pouring out, yet without -a sign of talking wildly. Her eyes shone; the velvet band on her throat -rose and fell; I was aware of happiness and amazement, but never once -of true surprise. I had expected this, and more besides. “The moment I -saw you—up there at the winder in the early mornin’—it came bursting -over me, Professor, as sure as anything in this world, that we’ve come -together again like old, old friends.”</p> - -<p>And it was still my conventional sense of decent conduct that held me -to make a commonplace rejoinder. Yet how the phrases came, and why the -thin barrier between us did not fall with a crash is more than I can -tell.</p> - -<p>“Julius had spoken about me, and no doubt your imagination—here in -this deserted place——”</p> - -<p>She shook her head almost contemptuously. “Julius said nothing,” she -put in quickly, “nothing in particular, I mean; only that you were old -friends and he was positive sure you’d come because you’d promised. -It’s since you’ve come here that I’ve felt all this so strong.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> You -come as familiar and natural to me as my own mother,” she continued, -a faint flush rising on the former pallor; “and what’s more, your -coming has brought a whole lot of other things nearer, too,” adding in -a whisper suddenly, “things that make me afraid and happy at the same -time.”</p> - -<p>She paused a moment, peering round the room and out of the blindless -windows into the darkening valley. “Now, <em>he</em>”—pointing with her -thumb in the direction of the kitchen—“is all new to me, and I have -no feeling about him at all. But you! Why, I always know where you -are, and what you’ll be doing next, and saying, and even what you’re -thinking and feeling half the time—jest as I do with Julius—almost.”</p> - -<p>The next minute came the direct question that I dreaded. It was like a -pistol shot:</p> - -<p>“And you feel the same, Professor? You feel it, too? You know all about -me—and this great wonderful thing that’s creepin’ up nearer all the -time. Don’t you, now?”</p> - -<p>I looked straight at her over the big lamp-shade, feeling that some -part of me went lost in the depths of those strange, peering eyes. -There was a touch of authority in her face—about lips and mouth—that -I had seen once before. For an instant it hovered there while she -waited for my reply. It lifted the surface plainness of her expression -into a kind of solemn beauty. Her charm poured over me envelopingly.</p> - -<p>“There is,” I stammered, “a curious sense of intimacy between us—all, -and it is very delightful. It comes to me rather like childhood -memories revived. The loneliness of this valley,” I added, sinking my -voice lest its trembling should be noticeable, “may account for a good -many strange feelings, but it’s the peace and loveliness that should -make the chief appeal.”</p> - -<p>The searching swiftness of the look she flashed upon me, faintly -touched with scorn, I have seen sometimes in the eyes of a child who -knows an elder says vain things for its protection in the dark. Such -weak attempts but bring the reality nearer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, I feel that too—the loveliness—right enough,” she said at once, -her eyes still fixed on mine, “but I mean these other things as well.” -Her tone, her phrase, assumed that I also was aware of them. “Where -do they come from? What are they exactly? I often fancy there’s lots -of other people up here besides ourselves, only they’re hidden away -always—watchin’, waitin’ for something to happen—something that’s -being got ready like. Oh, but it’s a splendid feeling, too, and makes -me feel alive all over.” She sat up and clapped her hands softly like -a child, but there was awe as well as joy in her. “And it comes from -the woods and sky somehow—like wind and lightning. God showed Himself -once, didn’t He, in a burnin’ bush and in a mighty rushin’ wind?”</p> - -<p>“Nature seems very real in a place like this,” I said hurriedly. “We -see no other human beings. Imagination grows active and constructs——”</p> - -<p>The instant way she swept aside the evasive reply I was so proud of -made me feel foolish.</p> - -<p>“Imagination,” she said firmly, yet with a bewitching smile, “is not -making up. It’s finding out. You know that!”</p> - -<p>We stared at one another for a moment without speech. It seemed as if -the forest, the meadows, the little rivulet of cool, clear water, the -entire valley itself became articulate—through her. Her personality -rushed over me like a gush of wind. In her enthusiasm and belief rose -the glow of fire.</p> - -<p>“You feel the same,” she went on, with conviction in her voice, -“or you wouldn’t try to pretend you don’t. You wouldn’t try to -hide it.” And the authority grew visibly upon her face. There was -a touch of something imperious as well. “You see, I can’t speak to -<em>him</em> about it, I can’t ask him”—jerking her head towards the room -upstairs—“because”—she faltered oddly for a second—“because it’s -about himself. I mean he knows it <em>all</em>. And if I asked him—my God, -he’d tell me!”</p> - -<p>“You prefer not to know?”</p> - -<p>She smiled and shrugged her shoulders with a curious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> gesture -impossible to interpret. “I long to know,” she replied, “but I’m half -afraid”—she shivered slightly—“to hear everything. I feel as if it -would change me—into—someone else.” The last words were spoken almost -below her breath.</p> - -<p>But the joy broke loose in me as I heard. It was another state of -consciousness she dreaded yet desired. This new consciousness was -creeping over her as well. She shared it with me; our innate sympathy -was so deep and perfect. More, it was a type of consciousness we had -shared together before. An older day rose hauntingly about us both. We -felt-with one another.</p> - -<p>“For yourself?” I asked, dropping pretence as useless any longer. “You -feel afraid for yourself?”</p> - -<p>She moved the lamp aside with a gesture so abrupt it seemed almost -violent; no object intervened between our gaze; and she leaned forward, -folding her hands upon the white tablecloth. I sat rigidly still -and watched her. Her face was very near to mine. I could see myself -reflected in her glowing eyes.</p> - -<p>“Not for myself, Professor, nor for you,” she said in a low voice. -Then, dropping the tone to a whisper, “but for him. I’ve felt it on -and off ever since we came up here last spring. But since you’ve come, -I’ve known it positive—that something’ll happen to Julius—before we -leave—and before you leave....”</p> - -<p>“But, Mrs. LeVallon——”</p> - -<p>“And it’s something we can’t prevent,” she went on whispering, “neither -of us—nor oughter prevent either—because it’s something we’ve got to -do all three together.”</p> - -<p>The intense conviction in her manner blocked utterance in me.</p> - -<p>“Something I want to do, what’s more,” she continued, “because -it’s sort of magnificent—if it comes off proper and as it -should—magnificent for all of us, and like a great vision or -something. <em>You</em> know what I mean. We are together in it, but this -old valley and the whole world is somehow in it, too. I can’t quite -understand. It’s very wonderful. Julius will suffer, too, only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> he’ll -call it jest development.” Her voice sank lower still. “D’you know, -Professor, I sometimes feel there’s something in Julius that seems to -me like—God.”</p> - -<p>She stood up as she said it, tall, erect, her figure towering above me; -and as she rose her face passed out of the zone of yellow lamplight -into comparative shadow, the eyes fixed always penetratingly upon my -own. And I could have sworn that not alone their expression altered, -growing as with fiery power, but that the very outline of her head -and shoulders shifted into something else, something dark, remote and -solemn as a tree at midnight, drawn almost visibly into larger scale.</p> - -<p>She bent lower again a little over the table, leaning her hands upon -the back of the chair she had just occupied. I knew exactly what she -was going to say. The sentences dropped one by one from her lips just -as I expected.</p> - -<p>“I’ve always had a dread in me, ever since I can remember,” I heard -this familiar thing close in my ear, “a sinking like—of some man that -I was bound to meet—that there was an injury I’d got to put right, and -that I’d have to suffer a lot in doing it. When I met Julius first I -thought it might be him. Then I knew it wasn’t him, but that I’d meet -the other—the right man—through him sooner or later.” She stopped and -watched me for a second. Her eyes looked through and through me. “It’s -you, Professor,” she concluded; “it’s you.”</p> - -<p>She straightened up again and passed behind my chair. I heard her -retreating steps. A thousand words rose up in me, but I kept silence. -What should I say? How should I confess that I, too, had known a -similar dread of meeting—her? A net encompassed me, a web was flung -that tightened as it fell—a web of justice, marvellously woven, old as -the stars and certain as the pull of distant planets, closing us all -together into a pattern of actions necessary and inexorable.</p> - -<p>I turned. I saw her against the window where she stood looking out into -the valley, now thick with darkness about the little house. And for one -passing instant it seemed to me that the entire trough of that dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> -valley brimmed with the forces of wind and fire that were waiting to -come in upon us.</p> - -<p>And Mrs. LeVallon turned and looked at me across the room. There was a -smile upon her lips.</p> - -<p>“But we’ll play it out,” her whisper reached me, “and face it all -without fear or shirking ... when it ... comes....” And as she -whispered it I hid my face in my hands so as not to meet her gaze. For -my own dread of years ago returned in force upon me, and I knew beyond -all doubt or question, though without a shred of evidence, that what -she said was true.</p> - -<p>And when I lifted my eyes a moment later Mrs. LeVallon had gone from -the room, and the Man, I saw, was clearing away the tea things, -glancing at me from time to time for a word or smile, as though to show -that whatever happened he was always faithful, ready to fight for all -of us to the death if necessary, and to be depended upon absolutely.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h3> -</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>A thousand ages onward led</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>Their joys and sorrows to that hour;</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>No wisdom weighed, no word was said,</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>For only what we were had power.</em>”—A. E.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Meanwhile</span> my intercourse with Nature now began to betray itself in -curious little ways, and none more revealing of this mingled joy and -nervousness than my growing excitement on being abroad after dark alone.</p> - -<p>In the far more desolate Monzoni Valley a few weeks before I had passed -whole nights in the open without the least suspicion of uneasiness, -yet here, amid these friendly woods, covered by this homely, peaceful -valley, it was suddenly made clear to me that I had nerves. And the -reason, briefly put, was that there I knew myself alone, whereas here I -knew myself never alone.</p> - -<p>This sense of a populated Nature grew. After dusk it fairly mastered -me, but even in broad daylight, when the September sunshine flooded -the whole trough of valley with warmth and brightness, there clung to -me the certainty that my moods and feelings, as my very footsteps, -too, were noted—and understood. This sense of moving Presences, as -in childhood, was stirred by every wind that blew. The feeling of -co-operation increased. It was conscious, intelligent co-operation.</p> - -<p>“Over that limestone ridge against the sky,” I caught myself feeling, -rather than definitely thinking; “from just beyond the crests of those -tall pines, will presently come——” What? I knew not, even as the -child knows not. Only, it would come—appearing suddenly from the -woods, or clouds, or from behind the big boulders that strewed the open -spaces.</p> - -<p>In the fields about the châlet this was manifest too,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> but especially -on the naked ridges above the forests and in the troughs that held the -sunlight. Where the wind had unobstructed motion, and where the heat -of the sun accumulated in the hollows, this sense of preparation, of -co-operation, chiefly touched me. There was behind it pressure—as of -purpose and direction, the idea that intelligence stirred within these -natural phenomena. Some type of elemental life, enormous yet generally -diffused through formlessness, moved and had its being behind natural -appearances.</p> - -<p>More and more, too, I realised that “inanimate” Nature was a script -that it was possible to read; that certain objects, certain appearances -drew my attention because they had a definite meaning to convey, -whereas others remained unnoticed, as though not necessary to the -sentence of some message or communication. The Language of Happenings -that Julius talked about—the occurrences of daily life as words in -some deep cosmical teaching—connected itself somewhere with this -meaning that hid in common objects.</p> - -<p>That my awareness of these things was known to others of the household -besides myself was equally clear, for I never left the immediate -neighbourhood of the châlet after dark without the Man following my -movements with a kind of anxiety, sometimes coming on my very tracks -for a considerable distance, or hanging about until I returned to light -and safety. In sleep, too, as I passed slowly into unconsciousness, it -seemed that the certainty of these Presences grew startlingly distinct, -and more than once I woke in the night without apparent cause, yet with -the conviction that they brooded close upon the châlet and its inmates, -pressing like a rising flood against the very walls and windows. And on -these occasions I usually heard Julius moving in his room just across -the narrow passage, or the Man astir in the lower regions of the house. -Outside, the moonlight, cold and gleaming, silvered the quiet woods and -limestone heights. Yet not all the peace and beauty of the scene, nor -the assurance of the steady stars themselves, could quite dispel this -conviction that something was in active<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> progress all about me, and -that the elements themselves urged forward towards the deliverance of -some purpose that had relation to ourselves.</p> - -<p>Julius, I knew, was at the root of it.</p> - -<p>One night—a week or so after my arrival—I woke from a dreamless sleep -with the impression that a voice had called me. I paused and listened, -but the sound was not repeated. I lay quietly for some minutes, trying -to discover whose voice it was, for I seemed bereft of some tender -companionship quite recently enjoyed. Someone who had been near me had -gone again. I was aware of loneliness.</p> - -<p>It was between one and two in the morning and I had slept for several -hours, yet this mood was not the one in which I had gone to bed. -Sleep, even ten minutes’ sleep, brings changes on the heart; I woke to -this sense of something desirable just abandoned. Someone, it seemed, -had called my name. There was a tingling of the nerves, a poignant -anticipation that included high delight. I craved to hear that voice -again. Then, suddenly, I knew.</p> - -<p>I rose and crossed the room. The warmth of the house oppressed me, -although the wood-fire in the hearth downstairs was long since out, -and by the open window I drank in the refreshing air. The valley lay -in a lake of silver. There was mist upon the meadows, transparent, -motionless, the tinkling of the rivulet just audible beneath its gauzy -covering. The cliffs rose in the distance, gaunt and watchful; the -forest was a pool of black. I saw the lake, a round blot upon the -fields. Over the shingled roof occasional puffs of wind made a faint -rushing sound under the heavy eaves. The moonlight was too bright for -stars, and the ridges seemed to top the building with the illusion of -nearness that such atmosphere engenders. The hush of a perfect autumn -night lay over all.</p> - -<p>I stood by that open window spellbound. For the clear loveliness seemed -to take my hand and lead me forth into a vale of beauty that, behind -the stillness, was brimming with activity. Vast energy paused beneath<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> -the immobility. The moonlight, so soft and innocent, yet gleamed with -a steely brightness as of hidden fire; the puffs of wind were but the -trickling draughts escaping from reservoirs that stored incalculable -reserves. A terrific quality belied the appearance of this false -repose. I was aware of elemental powers, pressed down and eager to -run over. It came to me they also had been—called. Their activity, -moreover, was in some very definite relation to myself. The voice that -summoned me had warned as well.</p> - -<p>I stood listening, trembling with an anticipation of things called -unearthly. Nature, dressed in the Night, stepped in and took my hand. -There seemed an enormous gesture; and it was a gesture, I felt, of -adoration. Somewhere behind the calm picture there lay worship.</p> - -<p>And I realised, then, that I stood before a page of writing. Out -of this inanimate map that was composed of earth, air, fire and -water, a deep sentence of elemental significance thrust up into my -consciousness. Objects, forced into syllables of this new language, -spoke to me. The cosmic language which is the language of the gods -stood written on the moonlit world. “We lie here ready for your use,” I -read. “Worship is the link. We may be known on human terms. You can use -us. We can work with you.”</p> - -<p>The message was so big, it seemed to thunder. Close to this window-sill -on which I leaned the rising energy swayed like a sea. It was obedient -to human will, and human will could harness it for practical purposes. -I was <em>feeling-with</em> it. Immense, far-spreading, pouring down in -viewless flood from the encircling heights, the surge of it came round -the lonely châlet. The valley brimmed. The blindly-heaving lift of -it—thus it presented itself to my imagination—could alter the solid -rocks until they flowed like water, could float the trees as though -they were but straws. For this also came to me with a conviction no -less significant than the rest—that the particular elemental powers at -hand were the familiar ones of heat and air. With those twin powers, -which in their ultimate physical manifestation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> men know as wind and -fire, my mind had established contact. But it was with the spiritual -prototypes of these two elements my own small personal breath and heat -linked on. There was co-operation. I had been called by name; yet my -summoning was but a detail in some vaster evocation. There was no -barrier between the not-me, as I must call it, and the me. Others had -been called as well.</p> - -<p>So strong was the sense that some unusual manifestation of these two -“elements” approached, that I instinctively drew back; and in that same -instant there flashed into me a vision, as it were, of sheeted flame -and of gigantic wind. In my heart the picture rushed, for outwardly -still reigned the calm and silence of the autumn night. Yet any moment, -it seemed, the barrier into visible, sensible appearance would be -leaped. And it was then, while I stood hesitating half-way between the -window and the bed, that the sound rose again with sharp distinctness, -and my name was called a second time.</p> - -<p>I heard the voice; I recognised it; but the name was not the one I -answer to to-day. It was another—first uttered at Edinburgh many years -ago—Silvatela. And strong emotion laid a spell upon my senses, masking -the present with a veil of other times and other places. I stood -entranced.... I heard Julius moving softly on the bare boards of the -passage as he came towards my room; the door opened quietly; he held a -lighted candle; I saw him framed against the darkness on the threshold.</p> - -<p>For a fraction of a second then, before either of us spoke, it was as -though he stood before me in another setting. For the meagre wood on -either side of him gave place somehow to pylons of grey stone, hewn -massively; the ceiling lifted into vaulted space where stars hung -brightly; cool air breathed against my skin; and through an immense -crepuscular distance I was aware of moving figures, clothed like his -own in flowing white with napkined heads, their visages swarthier than -those I knew to-day. He took a step forward into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> room, and the -shifting shadows from the moving candle dispelled the entire scene as -though the light and darkness had constructed it. He spoke at once:</p> - -<p>“<em>She</em> calls you,” he said quietly.</p> - -<p>He set the candle down upon the table by my bed and gently closed the -door. The draught, as he did so, shook the flame, sending a flutter of -shadows dancing through the air. Yet it was no play of light and shadow -that this time laid the strange construction on his face and gestures. -So stately were his movements, so radiant his pale, passionless -features, so touched with high, unearthly glory his whole appearance, -that I watched him for a minute in silence, conscious of respect that -bordered upon awe. He had been, I knew, in direct communication with -the very sources of his strange faith, and a remnant of the power still -clung to the outer body of his flesh. Into that small, cramped chamber -Julius brought the touch of other life, of other consciousness that yet -was not wholly unfamiliar to me. I remained close beside him. I drank -in power from him. And, again, across my thoughts swept that sheet of -fire and that lift of violent wind.</p> - -<p>“<em>She</em> calls you,” he repeated calmly; and by the emphasis on the -pronoun I knew he meant her Self of older times.</p> - -<p>“She——” I whispered. “Your wife!”</p> - -<p>He bowed his head. “She knows, now for the first time, that <em>you</em> are -here.”</p> - -<p>“She remembers?” I asked falteringly, knowing the “you” he meant was -also of an older day.</p> - -<p>“She lies in trance,” he answered, “and the buried Self is in command. -She felt your presence, and she called for you—by name.”</p> - -<p>“In trance?” I had the feeling of distress that he had forced her. But -he caught my thought and set it instantly at rest.</p> - -<p>“From deep sleep she passed of her own accord,” he said, “into the -lucid state. Her older Self, which retains the memories of all the -sections, is now consciously awake.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span></p> - -<p>“And she knows you too? Knows you as you were—remembers?” I asked -breathlessly, thinking of my first sight of him in the doorway.</p> - -<p>“She is aware at this very moment of both you and me,” he answered, -“but as she knew us in that particular past. For the old conditions are -gathering to-night about the house, and the Equinox is nearer.”</p> - -<p>“Gathered, then, by you,” I challenged, conscious that an emotion of -protection rose strong in me—protection of the woman.</p> - -<p>“Gathered, rather,” he at once rejoined, “by our collective presence, -by our collective feeling, thought and worship, but also by necessity -and justice which bring the opportunity.”</p> - -<p>He spoke with solemnity. I stared for several minutes in silence, -facing him and holding his brilliant eyes with an answering passion in -my own. Through the open window came a sighing draught of wind; a sense -of increasing warmth came with it; it seemed to me that the pictured -fire and wind were close upon me, as though the essential life of these -two common elements were rising upon me from within; and I turned, -trembling slightly, aware of the valley behind me in the moonlight. The -châlet, it seemed, already was surrounded. The Presences stood close.</p> - -<p>“They also know,” he whispered; “they wait for the moment when we shall -require them—the three of us together. She, too, desires them. The -necessity is upon us all.”</p> - -<p>With the words there rose a certainty in me that knew no vain denial. -The sense of reality and truth came over me again. He was in conscious -league with powers of Nature that held their share of universal -intelligence; we three had returned at last together. The approach -of semi-spiritual intelligences that operate through phenomenal -effects—in this case wind and fire—was no imaginative illusion. The -channels here were open.</p> - -<p>“No sparrow falls, no feather is misplaced,” he whispered, “but it is -known and the furthest star responds. From our life in another star we -brought our knowledge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> first. But we used it here—on the earth. It -was you—your body—that we used as channel. It was your return that -prevented our completion. Your dread of to-day is memory——”</p> - -<p>There broke in upon his unfinished sentence an interrupting voice that -turned me into stone. Ringing with marvellous authority, half sweet, -half terrible, it came along the wooden walls of that narrow corridor, -entered the very room about our ears, then died away in the open valley -at our backs. The awakened Self of “Mrs. LeVallon” called us:</p> - -<p>“Concerighé ... Silvatela...!” sounded through the quiet night.</p> - -<p>The voice, with its clear accents, plunged into me with an incredible -appeal of some forgotten woe and joy combined. It was a voice I -recognised, yet one unheard by me for ages. Power and deep delight rose -in me, but with them a flash of stupid, earthly terror. It sounded -again, breaking the silence of the early morning, but this time nearer -than before. It was close outside the door. I felt Julius catch me -quickly by the arm. My terror vanished at his touch.</p> - -<p>The tread of bare feet upon the boards was audible; the same second -the door pushed open and <em>she</em> stood upon the threshold, a tall, white -figure with fixed and luminous eyes, and hair that fell in a dark cloud -to the waist. Into the zone of pallid candle-light that the moon made -paler still, she passed against the darkness of the outer passage, -white and splendid, like some fair cloud that swims into the open sky. -And as wind stirs the fringes of a cloud, the breeze from the window -stirred the edges of her drapery where the falling hair seemed to -gather it in below the waist.</p> - -<p>It was the wife of Julius, but the wife of Julius changed. Like some -vision of ethereal beauty she stood before us, yet a vision that -was alive. For she moved, she breathed, she spoke. It was both the -woman as I knew her actually To-day, and the woman as I had known -her—Yesterday. The partial aspect that used this modern body was -somehow supplemented—fulfilled by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> the presentment of her entire Self. -The whole series of past sections came up to reinforce the little -present, and I gazed upon the complete soul of her, rather than upon -the fragment that made bread now in the kitchen and had known domestic -service. The bearing was otherwise, the attitude another, the very -fashion of her features changed. Her walk, her gestures, her mien had -undergone enthralling alteration.</p> - -<p>The stream of time went backwards as I gazed, or, rather, it stopped -flowing altogether and held steady in a sea that had no motion. I -sought the familiar points in her, plunging below the surface with each -separate one to find what I—remembered. The eyes, wide open in the -somnambulistic lucidity, were no longer of a nondescript mild grey, but -shone with the splendour I had already half surprised in them before; -the poise of the neck, the set of the shoulders beneath the white linen -of her simple night-dress, had subtly, marvellously changed. She stood -in challenge to a different world. It seemed to me that I saw the Soul -of her, attended by the retinue of memories, experience, knowledge of -all its past, summed up sublimely in a single moment. She was superb.</p> - -<p>The outward physical change was, possibly, of the slightest, yet wore -just that touch of significant alteration which conveyed authority. -The tall, lithe figure moved with an imperial air; she raised her arm -towards the open window; she spoke. The voice was very quiet, but it -held new depth, sonority and accent. She had not seen me yet where I -stood in the shadows by the wall, for Julius screened me somewhat, but -I experienced that familiar clutch of dread upon the heart that once -before—ages and ages ago—had overwhelmed me. Memory poured back upon -my own soul too.</p> - -<p>“Concerighé,” she uttered, looking full at Julius while her hand -pointed towards the moonlit valley. “They stand ready. The air is -breaking and the fire burns. Then where is <em>he?</em> I called him.”</p> - -<p>And Julius, looking from her face to mine, answered softly: “He -is beside you—close. He is ready with us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> too. But the appointed -time—the Equinox—is not quite yet.”</p> - -<p>The pointing hand sank slowly to her side. She turned her face towards -me and she—saw. The gaze fell full upon my own, the stately head -inclined a little. We both advanced; she took my outstretched hand, and -at the touch a shock as of wind and fire seemed to drive against me -with almost physical violence. I heard her voice.</p> - -<p>“Silvatela—we meet—again!” Her eyes ran over in a smile of -recognition as the old familiar name came floating to me through the -little room. But for the firm clasp of her hand I should have dropped, -for there was a sudden weakness in my knees, and my senses reeled a -moment. “We meet again,” she repeated, while her splendid gaze held -mine, “yet to you it is a dream. Memory in you lies unawakened still. -And the fault is ours.”</p> - -<p>She turned to Julius; she took his hand too; we stood linked together -thus; and she smiled into her husband’s eyes. “His memory,” she said, -“is dim. He has forgotten that we wronged him. Yet forgiveness is in -his soul that only half remembers.” And the man who was her husband of -To-day said low in answer: “He forgives and he will help us now. His -love forgives. The delay we caused his soul he may forget, but to the -Law there is no forgetting possible. We must—we shall—repay.”</p> - -<p>The clasp of our hands strengthened; we stood there linked together by -the chain of love both past and present that knows neither injustice -nor forgetting.</p> - -<p>Then, with the words, as also with the clasping hands that joined us -into one, some pent up barrier broke down within my soul, and a flood -of light burst over me within that made all things for a moment clear. -There came a singular commotion of the moonlit air outside the window, -as if the tide that brimmed the valley overflowed and poured about us -in the room. I stood transfixed and speechless before the certainty -that Nature, in the guise of two great elements, flooded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span> in and shared -our passionate moment of recognition. A blinding confusion of times and -places struggled for possession of me. For a tempest of memories surged -past, driven tumultuously by sheeted flame and rushing wind. The inner -hurricane lasted but a second. It rose, it fell, it passed away. I was -aware that I saw down into deep, prodigious depths as into a pool of -water, crystal clear; veil lifted after veil; memory revived.</p> - -<p>I shuddered; for it seemed my present self slipped out of sight while -this more ancient consciousness usurped its place. My little modern -confidence collapsed; the mind that doubts and criticises, but never -knows, fell back into its smaller rôle. The sum-total that was Me -remembered and took command. And realising myself part of a living -universe, I answered her:</p> - -<p>“With love and sympathy,” I uttered in no uncertain tones, “and with -complete forgiveness too.”</p> - -<p>In that little bedroom of a mountain châlet, lit by the moon and -candle-light, we stood together, our bodies joined by the clasp of -hands, and our ancient souls united in a single purpose.</p> - -<p>I looked into the eyes of this great woman, imperially altered in her -outward aspect, magnificent in the towering soul of her; I looked at -Julius, stately as some hierophantic figure who mastered Nature by -comprehending her; I felt their hands, his own firm and steady, hers -clasping softly, tenderly, yet with an equal strength; and I realised -that I stood thus between them, not merely in this isolated mountain -valley, but in the full tide of life whose source rose in the fountains -of an immemorial past, Nature and human-nature linked together in a -relationship that was a practical reality. Our three comrade-souls -were re-united in an act of restitution; sharing, or about to share, a -ceremony that had cosmic meaning.</p> - -<p>And the beauty of the woman stole upon my heart, bringing the -loveliness of the universe, while Julius brought its strength.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span></p> - -<p>“This time,” I said aloud, “you shall not fail. I am with you both in -sympathy, forgiveness,—love.”</p> - -<p>Their hands increased the pressure on my own.</p> - -<p>Her eyes held mine as she replied: “This duty that we owe to Nature and -to you—so long—so long ago.”</p> - -<p>“To me——?” I faltered.</p> - -<p>With shining eyes, and a smile divinely tender, she answered: “Love -shall repay. We have delayed you by our deep mistake.”</p> - -<p>“We shall undo the wrong we worked upon you,” I heard Julius say. “We -stole the channel of your body. And we failed.”</p> - -<p>“My love and sympathy are yours,” I repeated, as we drew closer still -together. “I bear you no ill-will....”</p> - -<p>And then she continued gravely, but ever with that solemn beauty -lighting up her face:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Silvatela, it seems so small a thing in the long, long journey of -our souls. We were too ambitious only. The elemental Powers we tried to -summon through your vacated body are still unhoused. The fault was not -yours; it was our ambition and our faithlessness. I loved you to your -undoing—you sacrificed yourself so willingly, loving me, alas, too -well. The failure came. Instead of becoming as the gods, we bear this -burden of a mighty debt. We owe it both to you and to the universe. -Fear took us at the final moment—and you returned too soon—robbed -of the high teaching that was yours by right, your progress delayed -thereby, your memory clouded <em>now</em>....”</p> - -<p>“My development took another turning,” I said, hardly knowing whence -the knowledge came to me, “no more than that. It was for love of -you that I returned too soon—the fault was mine. It was for the -best—there has been no real delay.” But there mingled in me a memory -both clouded and unclouded. There was a confusion beyond me to unravel. -I only knew our love was marvellous, although the fuller motives -remained entangled. “It is all forgiven,” I murmured.</p> - -<p>“Your forgiveness,” she answered softly, “is of perfect love. We loved -each other then—nor have we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> quite forgotten now. This time, at -least, we shall ensure success. The Powers stand ready, waiting; we -are united; we shall act as one. At the Equinox we shall restore the -balance; and memory and knowledge shall be yours a hundredfold at last.”</p> - -<p>The voice of Julius interrupted, though so low it was scarcely audible:</p> - -<p>“I offer myself. It is just and right, not otherwise. The risk must -be all mine. Once accomplished”—he turned to me with power in his -face—“we shall provide you with the privilege you lost through us. Our -error will then be fully expiated and the equilibrium restored. It is -an expiation and a sacrifice. Nature in this valley works with us now, -and behind it is the universe—all, all aware....”</p> - -<p>It seemed to me she leaped at him across the space between us. Our -hands released. Perhaps, with the breaking of our physical contact, -some measure of receptiveness went out of me, or it may have been the -suddenness of the unexpected action that confused me. I no longer fully -understood. Some bright clear flame of comprehension wavered, dimmed, -went out in me. Even the words that passed between them then I did -not properly catch. I saw that she clasped him round the neck while -she uttered vehement words that he resisted, turning aside as with -passionate refusal. It was—this, at least, I grasped before the return -of reason in me broke our amazing union and left confusion in the -place of harmony—that each one sought to take the risk upon himself, -herself. The channel of evocation—a human system—I dimly saw, was the -offering each one burned to make. The risk, in some uncomprehended way, -was grave. And I stepped forward, though but half understanding what -it was I did. I offered, to the best of my memory and belief—offered -myself as a channel, even as I had offered or permitted long ago in -love for her.</p> - -<p>For I had discerned the truth, and knew deep suffering, nor cared what -happened to me. It was the older Self in her that gave me love, while -her self of To-day—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> upper self—loved Julius. Mine was the old -subconscious love unrecognised by her normal self; the love of the -daily, normal self was his.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The look upon their faces stopped me. They moved up closer, taking -my hands again. The moonlight fell in a silver pool upon the wooden -flooring just between us; it clothed her white-clad figure with its -radiance; it shone reflected in the eyes of Julius. I heard the -tinkling of the little stream outside, beginning its long journey to -an earthly sea. The nearer pine trees rustled. And <em>her</em> voice came -with this moonlight, wind and water, as though the quiet night became -articulate.</p> - -<p>“So great is your forgiveness, so deep our ancient love,” she murmured. -And while she said it, both he and she together made the mightiest -gesture I have ever seen upon small human outlines—a gesture of -resignation and refusal that yet conveyed power as though a forest -swayed or some great sea rolled back its flood. There was this sublime -suggestion in the wordless utterance by which they made me know my -offering was impossible. For Nature behind both of them said also No....</p> - -<p>Then, with a quiet motion that seemed gliding rather than the taking -of actual steps, her figure withdrew slowly towards the door. Her -face turned from me as when the moon slips down behind a cloud. Erect -and stately, as though a marble statue passed from my sight by some -interior motion of its own, her figure entered the zone of shadow just -beyond the door. The sound of her feet upon the boards was scarcely -audible. The narrow passage took her. She was gone.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">I stood</span> alone with Julius, Nature alive and stirring strangely, as with -aggressive power, just beyond the narrow window-sill on which he leaned.</p> - -<p>“You understand,” he murmured, “and you remember too—at last.”</p> - -<p>I made no reply. There are moments when extraordinary emotions, -beyond expression either of tears or laughter, move the heart as -with the glory of another world. And one of these was certainly -upon me now. I knew things that I did not understand. A pageant of -incomparable knowledge went past me, yet, as it were, just out of -reach. The memories that offered themselves were too enormous—and too -different—to be grasped intelligently by the mind.</p> - -<p>And yet one thing I realised clearly: that the elemental powers of -Nature already existing in every man and woman in small degree, could -know an increase, an intensification, which, directed rightly, might -exalt humanity. The consciousness of those olden days knew direct -access to Nature. And the method, for which no terms exist To-day -in any spoken language, was that <em>feeling-with</em> which is adoration, -and that desiring sympathy which is worship. The script of Nature -wrote it clear. To read it was to act it out. The audacity of their -fire-stealing ambition in the past I understood, and so forgave. My -memory, further than this, refused to clear....</p> - -<p>I remember that we talked together for a space; and it was longer than -I realised at the time, for before we separated the moon was down -behind the ridges and the valley lay in a single blue-black shadow. -There was confusion on my heart and mind. The self in me that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> asked -and answered seemed half of To-day and half of Yesterday.</p> - -<p>“She remembered,” Julius said below his breath yet with deep delight; -“she recognised us both. In the morning she will have again forgotten, -for she knows not how to bring the experiences of deep sleep over into -her upper consciousness.”</p> - -<p>“She said ‘they waited.’ There are—others—in this valley?” It was -more a statement to myself than a question, but he answered it:</p> - -<p>“Everywhere and always there are others. But just now in this valley -they are near to us and active. I have sent out the call.”</p> - -<p>“You have sent out the call,” I repeated without surprise and yet -with darkened meaning. “Yes, I knew—I was aware of it.” My older -consciousness was sinking down again.</p> - -<p>“By worship,” he interrupted, “the worship of many weeks. We have -worshipped and felt-with, intensifying the link already established -by those who lived before us here. Your attitude is also worship. -Together we shall command an effective summons that cannot fail. -Already they are aware of us, and at the Equinox their powers will come -close—closer than love or hunger.”</p> - -<p>“In ourselves,” I muttered. “Aware of their activities in ourselves!”</p> - -<p>And my mouth went suddenly dry as I heard his quiet answer:</p> - -<p>“We shall feel their immense activities in ourselves as they return to -their appointed places whence we first evoked them. Through one of our -three bodies they must pass—the bodiless ones.” A silence fell between -us. The blood beat audibly in my ears like drums.</p> - -<p>“They need a body—again?” I whispered.</p> - -<p>He bowed his head. “The channel, as before,” he whispered with deep -intensity, “of a human organism—a brain, a mind, a body.” And, seeing -perhaps that I stared with a bewilderment half fear and half refusal, -he added quietly, “In the raw, they are too vast for human use, their -naked, glassy essence impossible to hold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> They must mingle first -with our own smaller powers that are akin to them, and thus take on -that restraint which enables the human will to harness their colossal -strength. Alone I could not accomplish this, but with the three of us, -merged by our love into a single unit——”</p> - -<p>“But the risk—you both spoke of——?” I asked it impatiently, yet it -was only a thick whisper that I heard.</p> - -<p>There was a little pause before he answered me.</p> - -<p>“There are two risks,” he said with utmost gravity in his voice and -face. “The descent of such powers <em>may</em> cause a shattering of the -one on whom they first arrive—he is the sacrifice. My death—any -consequent delay—might thus be the expiation I offer in the act of -their release. That is the first, the lesser risk.”</p> - -<p>He paused, then added: “But I shall not fail.”</p> - -<p>“And—should you——!” My voice had dwindled horribly.</p> - -<p>“The Powers, once summoned, would—automatically—seek another channel: -the channel for their return—in case I failed. That is the second and -the greater risk.”</p> - -<p>“Your wife?” The words came out with such difficulty that they were -scarcely audible. But Julius heard them.</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “For herself there is no danger,” he answered. “My -love of to-day, and yours of yesterday protect her. Nor has it anything -to do with you,” he added, seeing the touch of fear that flashed -from my eyes beyond my power to conceal it. “The Powers, deprived -of my control in the case of my collapse beneath the strain, would -follow the law of their own beings automatically. They would seek the -easiest channel they could find. They would follow the line of least -resistance.”</p> - -<p>And, realising that it was the other human occupant of the house he -meant, I experienced a curious sensation of pity and relief; and with -a hint of grandeur in my thought, I knew with what fine pathetic -willingness, with what whole-hearted simplicity of devotion, this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span> -faithful “younger soul” would offer himself to help in so big a -purpose—if he understood.</p> - -<p>It was with an appalling shock that I realised my mistake. Julius, -watching me closely, divined my instant thought. He made a gesture of -dissent. To my complete amazement, I saw him shake his head.</p> - -<p>“An empty and deserted organism, as yours was at the time we used -it for our evocation,” he said slowly; “an organism unable to offer -resistance owing to its being unoccupied—that is the channel, if it -were available, which they would take. When the soul is out—or <em>not -yet—in</em>.”</p> - -<p>We gazed fixedly at one another for a time I could not measure. I knew -his awful meaning. For to me, in that first moment of comprehension, it -seemed too terrible, too incredible for belief. I staggered over to the -open window. Julius came after me and laid his hand upon my shoulder.</p> - -<p>“The body is but the instrument,” I heard him murmur; “the vehicle of -the soul that uses it. Only at the moment of birth does a soul move in -to take possession. The parents provide it, helpless and ignorant as to -who eventually shall take command. And if this thing happened—though -the risk is small——”</p> - -<p>I turned and faced him as he stopped.</p> - -<p>“A monster!”</p> - -<p>“An elemental being, a child of the elements——”</p> - -<p>“Non-human?” I gasped.</p> - -<p>“Nature and human-nature linked,” he replied with curious reverence. “A -cosmic being born in a human body. Only—— I shall not fail.”</p> - -<p>And before I could find another word to utter, or even acknowledge -the quick pressure of his hand upon my own, I heard his step upon the -passage boards, and found myself alone again. I stood by the open -window, gazing into the deep, star-lit sky above this mountain valley -on our little, friendly Earth, prey to emotions that derived from -another, but forgotten planet—emotions, therefore, that no “earthly” -words can attempt to fathom or describe....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span> -<h2><a name="Attempted" id="Attempted"></a>Book IV<br /> -THE ATTEMPTED RESTITUTION</h2> -</div> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h3> -</div> - -<blockquote> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span> -“<em>Let us consider</em> wisdom <em>first</em>.</p> - -<p>“<em>Can we be wiser by reason of something which we have -forgotten? Unquestionably we can.... A man who dies after -acquiring knowledge—and all men acquire some—might enter his -new life, deprived indeed of his knowledge, but not deprived of -the increased strength and delicacy of mind which he had gained -in acquiring the knowledge. And if so, he will be wiser in the -second life because of what has happened in the first.</em></p> - -<p>“<em>Of course he loses something in losing the actual -knowledge.... But ... is not even this loss really a gain? -For the mere accumulation of knowledge, if memory never -ceased, would soon become overwhelming, and worse than -useless. What better fate would we wish for than to leave such -accumulations behind us, preserving their greatest value in -the</em> mental faculties <em>which have been strengthened by their -acquisition</em>.”—J. M’Taggart.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">As</span> I sit here in the little library of my Streatham house, trying to -record faithfully events of so many years ago, I find myself at a point -now where the difficulty well-nigh overwhelms me. For what happened in -that valley rises before me now as though it had been some strange and -prolonged enchantment; it comes back to me almost in the terms of dream -or vision.</p> - -<p>If it be possible for a man to enjoy two states of consciousness -simultaneously, then that possibility was mine. I know not. I can -merely state that at the time my normal consciousness seemed replaced -by another mode, another order, that usurped it, and that this usurping -consciousness was incalculably older than anything known to men to-day; -further, also, that the three of us had revived it from some immemorial -pre-existence. It was memory.</p> - -<p>Thus it seemed to me at the time; thus, therefore, I must record it. -And so completely was the change effected in me that belief came with -it. In no one of us, indeed, lay the slightest hint of doubt. What -happened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> must otherwise have been the tawdriest superstition, whereas -actually there was solemnity in it, even grandeur. The performance -our sacramental attitude of mind made holy, was true with the reality -of an older time when Nature-Worship was effective in some spiritual -sense far beyond what we term animism in our retrospective summary of -the past. We did, each one of us, and in more or less degree, share -the life of Nature by the inner process of feeling-with that life. -Her natural forces augmented us indubitably—there was intelligent -co-operation.</p> - -<p>To-day, of course, the forces in humanity drive in quite another -direction; Nature is inanimate and Pan is dead; another attitude -obtains—thinking, not feeling, is our ideal; men’s souls are scattered -beyond the hope of unity and the sword of formal creeds sharply -separates them everywhere. We regard ourselves proudly as separate -from Nature. Yet, even now, as I struggle to complete this record in -the suburban refuge my old age has provided for me, I seem aware of -changes stealing over the face of the world once more. Like another -vast dream beginning, I feel, perhaps, that man’s consciousness is -slowly spreading outwards once again; it is re-entering Nature, too, -in various movements; the wireless note is marvellously sounding; on -all sides singular phenomena that <em>seem</em> new suggest that there is no -limit—to extension of consciousness—to interior human activity. Some -voice from the long ago is divinely trumpeting across our little globe.</p> - -<p>This, possibly, is an old man’s dream. Yet it helps me vaguely to -understand how, in that enchanted valley, the three of us may actually -have realised another, older point of view which amounted even to a -different type of consciousness. The slight analogy presents itself; -I venture to record it. Only on some such supposition could I, a -normal, commonplace product of the day, have consented to remain -in the valley without repugnance and distress, much less to have -participated willingly as I did in all that happened. For I was almost -whole-heartedly in and of it. My moments of criticism<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span> emerged, but -passed. I saw existence from some cosmic point of view that presented -a human life as an insignificant moment in an eternal journey that was -related both to the armies of the stars and to the blades of grass -along the small, cool rivulet. At the same time this vast perspective -lifted each tiny detail into a whole that inspired these details with -sacramental value whose meaning affected everything. To live <em>with</em> -the universe made life the performance of a majestic ceremony; to live -against it was to creep aside into a <em>cul de sac</em>. And so this small -item of balance we three, as a group, desired to restore was both an -insignificant and a mighty act of worship.</p> - -<p>Yet, whereas to myself the happenings were so intense as to seem -terrific even, to one who had not <em>felt</em> them—as I did—they must seem -hardly events or happenings at all. I say “felt,” because my perception -of what occurred was “feeling” more than anything else. I enjoyed this -other mode of existence known to the human spirit in an earlier day, -and brought, apparently, to earth from our experience upon another -planet.</p> - -<p>The happenings, to me, seemed momentous—yet they consisted largely of -interior changes. They were inner facts. And such inner facts “To-day” -regards as less real than outer events, dismissing them as subjective. -The collapse of a roof is real, the perception of an eternal verity is -a mood! And if my attempt to describe halts between what is alternately -bald and overstrained, it is because modern words can only stammer in -dealing with experiences that have so entirely left the racial memory.</p> - -<p>For myself the test of their actuality lies in the death that -resulted—an indubitable fact at any rate!—and in the birth that -followed it a little later—another unquestionable “fact.”</p> - -<p>I may advantageously summarise the essential gist of the entire matter. -I would do so for this reason: that physical memory grows dim on -looking back so many years and that the events in the châlet grow more -and more elusive, so that I find a sharp general outline<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> helpful to -guide me in this subsequent record. Further, the portion I am now about -to describe depends wholly upon a yet older memory, the memory—as it -seemed to me—of thousands of years ago. This more ancient memory came -partially to me only. I saw much I could not understand or realise, -and so can merely report baldly. There was fluctuation. Perhaps, after -all, my earlier consciousness was never restored with sufficient -completeness to reconstitute the entire comprehension that had belonged -to it when it was my <em>natural</em> means of perceiving, knowing, being. -Words, therefore, obviously fail.</p> - -<p>Let me say then, as Julius himself might have said, that in some far -off earlier existence the three of us had offended a cosmic law, and -that for the inevitable readjustment of this error, its expiation, the -three of us must first of all find ourselves reincarnated once again -together. This, after numerous intervening centuries, had come to pass.</p> - -<p>The nature of the offence seemed crudely this: that, in the days -when elemental Nature-Powers were accessible to men, we used two of -these—those operating behind wind and fire—for selfish instead of -for racial purposes. Apparently they had been evoked by means of a -human body which furnished their channel of approach. It was available -because untenanted, as already described. I state merely the belief and -practice of an earlier day. Special guardians protected the vacated -bodies from undesirable invasion, and while Julius and the woman -performed this duty, they had been tempted to unlawful use for purposes -of their own. The particular body was my own: I was the channel of -evocation. That I had, however, been persuaded to permit such usage was -as certain as that it was the love between the woman and myself that -was the reason of such permission. How and why I cannot state, because, -simply, I could not—remember. But that the failure of their experiment -resulted in my sudden recall into the body, and the loss, therefore, -of teaching and knowledge I should have otherwise enjoyed—this had -delayed my soul’s advance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> and explained also why, To-day, memory -failed in me and my soul had lagged behind in its advance. Somewhat in -this way LeVallon stated it.</p> - -<p>Where this ancient experiment took place, in what country and age, I -cannot pretend to affirm. The knowledge made use of, however, seems to -have been, in its turn, a yet earlier memory still, and of an existence -upon a planet nearer to the sun, since Fire and Wind were there -recognised as a means by which deific Powers became accessible—through -worship. That the human spirit was then clothed in bodies of lighter -mould, and that Wind and Fire were viewed as manifestations of deity, -turns my imagination, if not my definite memory, to a planet like -Mercury, where gigantic Heat and therefore mighty Winds would be -imposing vehicles of conveying energy from their source—the Sun.</p> - -<p>For the expiation of the error, a re-enactment of the actual scene of -its committal was necessary. It must be acted out to be effective—a -ceremony. The channel, again, of a human system was essential as -before. The struggles that eventually ensued, complicated by the stress -of personal emotion—the individual attempts each participator made -to become the channel and so the possible sacrifice—this caused, -apparently, the awful failure. Emotion destroyed the unity of the -group. For Julius was unable to direct the Powers evoked. They were -compelled to seek a channel elsewhere, and they automatically availed -themselves of that which offered the least resistance. The birth -that subsequently followed, accordingly, was a human body informed -literally by these two elemental Powers; and it is in the hope that of -those who chance to read these notes, someone may perhaps be aware of -the existence in the world of this unique being—it is in this hope -primarily, I say, that the record I have attempted is made, that it may -survive my death which cannot now be very long delayed.</p> - -<p>One word more, however, I am compelled to add:</p> - -<p>I am aware that my so easy surrender to the spell of -<a name="LeVallon" id="LeVallon"></a><ins title="Original has Le Vallon’s">LeVallon’s</ins> personality and ideas must seem difficult to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> -justify. Even those of my intimates, who may read this record after I -am gone, may feel that my capitulation was due to what men now term -hypnotic influence; whereas, that some part of me accepted with joy and -welcome is the actual truth—it was some lesser part that objected and -disapproved.</p> - -<p>To myself, as to those few who may find these notes, I owe this -somewhat tardy confession of personal bias. That I have concealed it -in this Record hitherto seems because my “educated” self must ever -struggle to deny it.</p> - -<p>For there have always been two men in me—more than in the usual sense -of good and evil. One, up to date and commonplace, enjoys the game of -nineteenth century life, interests itself in motors, telephones, and -mechanical progress generally, finds Socialism intriguing and even -politics absorbing; while the other, holding all that activity of which -such things are symbols, in curious contempt, belongs to the gods alone -know what. It remains essentially inscrutable, incalculable, its face -masked by an indecipherable smile. It worships the sun, believes in -Magic, accepts the influences of the stars, and acknowledges with sweet -reverence extended hierarchies of Beings, both lower and higher than -the stage at which humanity now finds itself.</p> - -<p>In youth, of course, this other self was stronger than in later years; -yet, though submerged, it has never been destroyed. It seemed an -older aspect of my divided being that declined to die. For periods of -varying duration, the modern part would deny it as the superstition of -primitive animistic ignorance; but, biding its time, it would rise to -the surface and take the reins again. The modern supremacy passed, the -older attitude held authoritative sway. The Universe then belonged to -it, alive in every detail; there was communion with trees and winds -and streams; the thrill of night became articulate; it was concerned -with distant stars; the sun changed the earth once more into a vast -temple-floor. I was not apart from any item, large or small, on earth -or in the heavens, while myth and legend, poetry and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> folk-lore were -but the broken remnants of a once extended faith, a mighty worship that -was both of God and knew the gods.</p> - -<p>At such times the drift of modern life seemed in another—a -minor—direction altogether. The two selves in me could not mingle, -could not even compromise. The recent one seemed trivial, but the older -one pure gold. It dwelt, this latter, in loneliness, sweetly-prized, -perhaps, but isolated from all minds of to-day worth knowing, -because its mode of being was not theirs. A loneliness, however, not -intolerable, since it was aware of lifting joy, of power no mere -contrivance could conceive, and of a majestic beauty nothing of -to-day could even simulate.... Societies, moreover, called secret, -fraternities labelled magical and hierophantic, were all too trumpery -to feed its ancient longings, too charlatan to offer it companionship, -too compromising to obtain results. Among modern conditions I found no -mode of life that answered to its imperious call in me. It seemed an -echo and a memory.</p> - -<p>As I grew older, both science and religion told me it must be denied. -Respectful of the former, I sought some reasonable basis for these -strange burning beliefs that flamed up with this older self—in -vain. Unjustifiable, according to all knowledge at my disposal, they -remained. History went back step by step to that darkness whence -ignorance emerged; evolution traced a gradual rise from animal -conditions; to no dim, former state of exalted civilisation, either -remembered or imagined, could this deeper part of me track its home -and origin. Yet that home, that origin, I felt, existed, and were -accessible. I could no more resign their actuality than I could cease -to love, to hate, to live. The mere thought of them woke emotions -independent of my will, contemptuous of my intellect—emotions that -were of indubitable reality. They remained convictions.</p> - -<p>Had I, then, known some state antedating history altogether, some -unfabled land of which storied Atlantis, itself a fragment, lingered -as a remnant of some immenser life? Had I experienced a mode of being -less<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> cabined than the one I now experienced in a body of blood and -flesh—another order of consciousness, yet identity retained—upon -another star? ... The centuries geology counts backwards were but -moments, the life of a planet only a little instant in the universal -calendar. Was there, a million years ago, a civilisation of another -kind, too ethereal to leave its signatures in sand and rocks, yet in -its <em>natural</em> simplicity nearer, perhaps, to deity? Was here the origin -of my unrewarded yearnings? Could reincarnation, casting back across -the æons to lovelier or braver planets, give the clue? And did this -older self trail literally clouds of glory from a golden age of light -and heat and splendour that lay nearer to the shining centre of our -corner of the heavens...?</p> - -<p>At intervals I flung my queries like leaves upon the wind; and the -leaves came back to me upon the wind. I found no answer. Speculation -became gradually less insistent, though the yearnings never died. -Deeper than doubt or question, they seemed ingrained—that my -pre-existence has been endless, that I continue always.... And it -was this strange, buried self in me, already beginning to fade a -little when I went to Motfield Close to train my modern mind in -modern knowledge—it was this curious older self that Julius LeVallon -vitalised anew. Back came the flood of mighty questions:—Whence have -we come? From what dim corner of the unmeasured cosmos are we derived, -descended, making our little way on to the earth? Where have these -hints of an immenser life their sweet, terrific origin, and—why this -unbridged hiatus in our memory...?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The subsequent events lie somewhat confused in me until the night that -heralded the Equinox. Whether two days or three intervened between the -night-scene of Mrs. LeVallon’s Older Self already described, and the -actual climax, I cannot remember clearly. The sequence of hours went -so queerly sliding; incidents of external kind were so few that the -interval remained unmarked; little happened in the sense of outward -happenings on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span> which the mind can fasten by way of measurement. We -lived, it seems, so close to Nature that those time-divisions we call -hours and days flowed <em>with</em> us in a smooth undifferentiated stream. I -think we were too much in Nature to observe the size or length of any -particular parcels. We just flowed forward with the tide itself. Yet to -explain this, now that for years I am grown normal and ordinary again, -is hardly possible. I only remember that larger scale; I can no longer -realise it.</p> - -<p>I recall, however, the night of that conversation when Julius left -me to my hurricane of thoughts and feelings, and think I am right in -saying it immediately preceded the September day that ushered in the -particular “attitude” of our earth towards the rest of the Universe we -call the Autumnal Equinox.</p> - -<p>Sleep and resistance were equally impossible; I swam with an enormous -current upon a rising tide. And this tide bore stars and worlds within -its irresistible momentum. It bore also little flowers; moisture felt, -before it is seen, as dew or rain; heat that is latent before the -actual flame is visible; and air that lies everywhere until the rush of -wind insists on recognition. I was aware of a prophecy that included -almost menace. An uneasy sense that preparations of immense, portentous -character were incessantly in progress, not in the house and in -ourselves alone, but in the entire sweep of forest, vale and mountain, -pressed upon me from all sides. Nature conspired, I felt, through her -most usual channels to drive into a corner where she would drip over, -so to speak, into amazing manifestation. And that corner, waiting and -inviting, was ourselves....</p> - -<p>Towards morning I fell asleep, and when I woke a cloudless day lay -clear and fresh upon the world, the meadows shone with dew, cobwebs -shimmered past my open window, and a keen breeze from the heights -stung my nostrils with the scent from miles of forest. A sparkling -vitality poured almost visibly with the air and sunshine into my -human blood. I bathed and dressed. Frost had laid silvery fingers -upon the valley during the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span> night, and the shadows beneath the woods -still shone in white irregular patches of a pristine loveliness. The -feeling that Nature brimmed over was even stronger than before, and -I went downstairs half conscious that the “corner” we prepared would -show itself somehow fuller, <em>different</em>. The little arena waiting for -it—that arena occupied by our human selves—would proclaim the risen -tide. I almost expected to find Julius and his wife expressing in -their physical persons the advent of this power, their very bodies, -gestures, voices increased and grown upon a larger scale. And when I -met them at the breakfast table, two normal, ordinary persons, merely -full of the exhilarating autumn morning, I knew a moment of surprise -that at the same time included relief, though possibly, too, a touch of -disappointment. They were both so simple and so natural.</p> - -<p>It brought me up short, as though before a promised hope not justified, -a balked anticipation. But the next moment my mistake was clear. The -sense of something dwindled gave place to its very opposite—a fuller -realisation. The three of us were so intimate—I might say so divinely -intimate—that my failure to see them “grander” arose from my attempt -to see them “separate”—from myself. For actually we floated, all -three, upon the risen tide together. It was the “mind” in me that -sounded the old false note. Having increased like themselves, I was of -equal stature with them; to see them “different” was impossible.</p> - -<p>And this amazing quality was characteristic of all that followed. -Ever since my arrival I had been slowly rising with the tide that -brimmed the valley now to the very lips of the surrounding mountains. -It brimmed our hearts as well. My companions were quiet because they, -like myself, were part of it. There was no sense of disproportion or -exaggeration, much less of dislocation; we shared Nature’s powers -without effort, without struggle, as naturally as sunshine, wind or -rain. We stood within; the day contained all three. The Ceremony, -which was living-with Nature, tuned to the universal life, had been -in progress from the instant Julius had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span> welcomed me a week ago. Our -attitude and the earth’s were one. The Equinox was in us too.</p> - -<p>In that moment when we met at breakfast, the flash of clearer sight -left all this beyond dispute. Memory shot back in a lightning glance -over recent sensations and events. I realised my gradual growth into -the larger scale, I grasped the significance of the various moods and -tenses my changing consciousness had known as in a kind of initiation. -Premonitions of another mode of mind had stolen upon me out of ordinary -things. The habitual had revealed its marvellous hidden beauty. -There had been transmutation. The ensouling life behind broke loose -everywhere, even through the elements themselves: but particularly -through the two of them that are so closely levelled to the little -division we call human life: air-things and fire-things had become -alert and eager. There was commotion in the palaces of Wind and Fire.</p> - -<p>And so the bigger truth explained itself to me. What happened later -seems only incredible on looking back at it from my present dwindled -consciousness. At the time it was natural and quiet. A tourist, passing -through our lonely valley, need not have been aware either of tumult -or of wonder. He would have been too remote from us, too centred in -the consciousness of To-day that accepts only what is expected, or -explicable—too different, in a word, to have noticed anything beyond -the presence of three strangely quiet people in a lonely châlet of the -mountains.</p> - -<p>But for us, the gamut of experience had stretched; there was in our -altered state both a microscope and telescope; but a casual intruder, -unprovided with either, must have gone his way, I think, unaware, -unstimulated, and uninformed.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h3> -</div> - - -<blockquote> -<p>“<em>With virtue the point is perhaps clearer.... I have forgotten -the greater number of the good and evil acts which I have done -in my present life. And yet each must have left a trace on my -character. And so a man may carry over into his next life the -dispositions and tendencies which he has gained by the moral -contests of this life, and the value of those experiences will -not have been destroyed by the death which has destroyed the -memory of them.</em>”—Ibid.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">The</span> day that followed lives with me still as an experience of paradise -beyond intelligible belief. Yet I unquestionably experienced it. The -touch of dread was but the warning of the little mind, which shrank -from a joy too vast for it to comprehend. Of Mrs. LeVallon this -was similarly true. Julius alone, sure and steadfast in the state -from which since early boyhood he had never lapsed, combined Reason -and Intuition in that perfect achievement towards which humanity -perhaps slowly seems moving now. He remained an image of strength -and power; he lived in full consciousness what she and I lived half -unconsciously. Yet to record the acts and words which proved it I find -now stammeringly difficult; they were so ordinary. The point of view -which revealed their “otherness” I have so wholly lost.</p> - -<p>“The Equinox comes to-night—the pause in Nature,” he said at -breakfast, joy in his voice and eyes. “We shall have greater life. The -moment is ours, because we know how to use it.” Yet what pregnant truth -came with the quiet words, what realisation of simple, overflowing -beauty, what incalculable power, no language known to me can possibly -express.</p> - -<p>And his wife, equally, was aglow with happiness and splendour as of a -forgotten age. In myself, too, remained no vestige of denial or alarm. -The day seemed a long, sweet period without divisions, a big,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> simple -sacrament of unconditioned bliss. Memory came back upon me in a flood, -yet a memory of states, and never once of scenes or places. I re-lived -a time, a state, when men knew greater purposes than they realised, -dimly and instinctively perhaps, not blindly altogether, yet taught of -Nature and the Nature Powers close upon their daily lives. They knew -these Powers direct, experiencing them, existing side by side with them -in definite mutual relationship. They neither reasoned nor, possibly, -even thought. They knew.</p> - -<p>For my nature was no longer in opposition to the rest of things, nor -set over against the universe, as apart from it. I felt my acts related -in a vital manner to the planet, as to the entire cosmos, and the -elemental side of Nature moved alongside of my most trivial motions. -The drift of happenings, in things “external” to me, were related to -that drift of inner sensation that I called myself. Thoughts, desires, -emotions found themselves completed in trees and grass, in rocks and -flowers, in the flowing rivulet, in the whir of wind, the drip of -water, the fire of the sunshine. They told me things about myself; -they revealed a pregnant story of information by their attitudes and -aspects; they were related to my very fate and character. The sublime -simplicity of it lies beyond description. For this sacramental tone -changed ordinary daily life into something splendid as eternity. I -shared the elemental power of “inanimate” things. They affected me -and I affected them. The Universe itself, but especially the known -and friendly Earth, was hand in hand and arm in arm with me. It was -feeling-with; it was the cosmic point of view.</p> - -<p>And thus, I suppose, it was that I realised humanity as but a little -portion of the whole—important, of course, as the animalculæ in a drop -of water are important, yet living towards extinction only if they -live apart from the surrounding ocean which divinely mothers them. -To this divinity seemed due the presumption with which man To-day -imagines himself the centre of this colossal ocean, and lays down the -law so insolently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> for the entire Universe. The birth of a soul—its -few years of gaining experience in a material form called body—was -vital certainly for itself, yet whether that body should be informed -by a “human” soul, or by another type of life of elemental kind—this, -seen in proportion to the gigantic scale of universal life, left me -unshocked and undismayed. To provide a body for any life was a joy, a -proud delight, a duty to the whole, but whether Mrs. LeVallon bore a -girl or a boy, or furnished a vehicle for some swift marvellous progeny -of another kind, seemed in no sense to offer an afflicting alternative. -My <em>present</em> point of view may be imagined—the ghastliness and terror, -even the horror of it—but at the time I faced it otherwise, regarding -the possibility with a kind of reverent wonder only. It was not -terrible, but grand.</p> - -<p>The certainty of all this I realised at the time. I see it now less -vividly. The intensity has left me. So overwhelming was its perfection, -however, that, as I have said, the contingency to which Mrs. LeVallon, -as mother, was exposed, held no dire or unmoral suggestion for me, as -it now must hold. Nor did the correlative conditions appear otherwise -than true and possible. And that these two, Julius and his wife, -staked an entire lifetime to correct an error of the past, meant no -more—viewed in this vaster proportion—than if I ran upstairs to -close a door I had foolishly left open. An open door is a little -thing, yet may cause currents of air that can disarrange the harmony -of the objects in its path, upsetting the purpose and balance of the -entire household. It must be closed before the occupants of the house -can do their work effectively. They owe it to the house as well as to -themselves. There was this door left open. It must be closed.</p> - -<p>But it could not be closed by one. We three, a group, alone could -compass this small act. We who had opened it alone could close it. The -potential strength of three in one was the oldest formula of effective -power known to life. Such a group was capable of a claim on Nature -impossible to an individual—the method of evocation we had used -together in the long ago.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h3> -</div> - - -<blockquote> -<p>“<em>There remains love. The gain which the memory of the past -gives us here is that the memory of past love for any person -can strengthen our present love of him. And this is what must -be preserved if the value of past love is not to be lost. But -love has no end but itself. If it has gone, it helps us little -that we keep anything it has brought us....</em></p> - -<p>“<em>What more do we want? The past is not preserved separately -in memory, but it exists, concentrated and united in the -present.... If we still think that the past is lost, let us ask -ourselves whether we regard as lost all those incidents in a -friendship which, even before death, are forgotten.</em>”—Ibid.</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Here</span>, then, as well as the mind in me can set it down, was the -background against which the various incidents of this final day -occurred. This was my “attitude” towards them; these thoughts and -feelings, though unexpressed in words, were the “mood” which accepted -and understood each slightest incident of those extraordinary hours.</p> - -<p>The length of the day amazed me; it seemed endless. Time went another -gait. The sequence of little happenings that marked its passage remains -blurred in the memory, and I look back to these with the curious -feeling that they happened all at once. Yet the strongest impression, -perhaps, is that time, the sense of duration, was arrested or at least -moved otherwise. There was a pause in Nature, the pause before the -approaching Equinox. A river halted a moment at the bend. And hence -came, of course, the sensation of pressure accumulating everywhere in -the valley. Acceleration would come afterwards, but first this wondrous -pause.</p> - -<p>And this pressure that brimmed the valley forced common details into -an uncommon view. The rising tide drove objects on the banks above -high-water mark. There was exhilaration without alarm, as when an -exceptional tide throws a full ocean into unaccustomed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> inlets. The -thrill was marvellous. The forest made response, offering its secret -things without a touch of fear ... as when the deer came out and grazed -upon the meadow before the châlet windows, not singly but in groups, -and invariably, I noticed, groups of three and three. We passed close -in and out among them; I stroked the thick rough hair upon their -flanks; I remember Mrs. LeVallon’s arm about their necks, and once in -particular, when she was lying down, that a fawn, no hint of fear in -its beautiful, gracious eyes, pushed her hair aside with its shining -muzzle to nibble the grass against her neck. The mood of an ancient and -divining prophecy lay in the sight, linking Nature with human-nature -in natural harmony when the lion and the lamb might play together, and -a little child might lead them. For—significant, arresting item—the -very air came sweetly down among us too, and the friendly intimacy of -the birds brought this exquisite touch of love into the entire day. -There was communion everywhere between our Selves and Nature. The -birds were in my room when I went upstairs, one hopping across the -pillow on my bed, its bright eyes shining as it perched an instant -on my shoulder, two others twittering and dancing along the narrow -window-sill. There was no fear in them; they fluttered here and there -at will, and my quickest movements caused them no alarm. From the -table they peeped up into my face; they were downstairs flitting in -and out among the chairs and sofas; they did not fly away when we came -in. And in threes I saw them, always in threes together. It was like -reading natural omens; I understood the significance that lay in omens; -and in this delightful sense, but in no other, these natural signs -were—ominous.</p> - -<p>Over the face of Nature, and in our hearts as well, lay everywhere -this attitude of divine carelessness. Everything felt-with everything -else, and all were neighbours. The ascension of the soul through all -the natural kingdoms seemed written clear upon the trees and rocks -and flowers, upon birds and animals, upon the huge, quiet elements -themselves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span></p> - -<p>For the pause and stillness, these were ominous, too. This hush of -Nature upon the banks of Time, this beautiful though solemn pause upon -the heart of things, was but the presage of an accelerated rushing -forward that would follow it. The world halted and took breath. It was -the moment just before the leap.</p> - -<p>With midnight the climax would be reached—the timeless instant of -definite arrest, too brief, too swift for mechanism to record, the -instant when Julius would enforce his ancient claim. Then the impetuous -advance would be resumed, but resumed with the increased momentum, -moreover, of natural forces whose outward manifestation men call the -equinoctial gales. Those elemental disturbances, that din and riot in -the palaces of heat and air, of wind and fire—how little the sailors, -the men upon the heights, the dwellers in the streets of crowded -cities might guess the free divinity loose upon the earth behind the -hurricanes! The forgotten majesty of it broke in upon me as I realised -it. For realise it I most assuredly did. The channels here, indeed, -were open.</p> - -<p>There seemed a halo laid upon the day; sanctity and peace in all its -corners; the valley was a temple, the splendour of true old-world -worship ushering in the Equinox: Earth’s act of adoration to the sun, -the breathless moment when she sank upon her knees before her source of -life, her progeny aware, participating.</p> - -<p>For the joy and power that vibrated with every message of light and -sound about us came to me in the terms of love, as though a love -which broke all barriers down flowed in from Nature. It woke in me -an unmanageable, an infinite yearning; I burned to sweep all modern -life into this lonely mountain valley, to share its happiness with -the entire world; the tired ones, the sick and weary, the poor, those -who deem themselves outcast and useless in the scheme of things, -the lonely, the destitute in spirit, the failures, the wicked, and, -above all, the damned. For here all broken and shattered lives, it -seemed to me, must find that sense of wholeness which is confidence -and that peace due to the certainty of being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> cared for by the -universe—divinely mothered. The natural sacrament of elemental powers, -in its simplicity, could heal the nations. I yearned to bring humanity -into the power of Nature and the joy of Nature-Worship.</p> - -<p>So complete, moreover, was my inclusion in this sacramental attitude -towards Nature, that I saw the particular purpose for which we three -were here—as Julius saw it. I experienced a growing joy, an ever -lessening alarm. Three human souls met here upon this island of a -moment’s restitution, important certainly, yet after all an episode -merely, set between a series of lives long past and of countless -lives to follow after. The elements, and the Earth to which they -were consciously related, the Universe of which, with ourselves, she -formed an integral constituent—all were relatively and in their just -proportions involved in this act of restitution. Hence, in a dim way, -it was out of time and space. Our very acts and feelings were those of -Nature and of that vaster Whole, wherein Nature, herself but a little -item, lies secure. The Universe felt and acted with us. The gentian in -the field would be aware, but Sirius, too.</p> - -<p>Three human specks would act out certain things, but the wind in the -forest would co-operate and feel glad, and the fire in Orion’s nebula -would be aware.</p> - -<p>An older form of consciousness was operative. We were not separate. -Instead of <em>thinking</em> as separate items apart from the rest of the -cosmos, we <em>felt</em> as integral bits of it—and here, perhaps, lay the -essence of what I call another kind of consciousness than the one known -to-day.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">My</span> mind retains with photographic accuracy the detail of that -sinister yet gorgeous night. One thing alone vitiates the value of my -report—while I remember what happened, I cannot remember <em>why</em> it -happened.</p> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">At</span> the actual time, I understood the meaning of every word and -action because the power to do so was in me. I was in another state -of consciousness. That state has passed, and with it the ability to -interpret. I am in the position of a man who remembers clearly the -detail of some dream to which, on waking, he has lost the key. While -dreaming it, the meaning was daylight clear. The return to normal -consciousness has left him with a photograph he no longer can explain.</p> - -<p>The first tentative approach, however, of those Intelligences men call -Fire and Wind—their first contact with this other awakened Self in me, -I remember perfectly. Wind came first, then Fire; yet at first it was -merely that they made their presence known. I became aware of them. And -the natural, simple way in which this came about I may describe to some -extent perhaps.</p> - -<p>The ruins of a flaming sunset lay above the distant ridges when Julius -left my room, and, after locking away the private papers entrusted to -my charge, I stood for some time watching the coloured storm-clouds -hurrying across the sky. For, though the trees about the châlet were -motionless, a violent wind ran high overhead, and on the summits it -would have been impossible to stand. Round the building, however, -sunken in its protected valley, and within the walls especially, -reigned a still, delightful peace. The wind kept to the summits. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> -of some Spirit of Wind I was aware long before the faintest movement -touched a single branch.</p> - -<p>Upon me then, gathering with steady power, stole the advance-guard of -these two invasions—air and warmth, yet an inner air, an inner warmth. -For, while I watched, the silence of those encircling forests conveyed -the sound and movement of approaching life. There grew upon me, first -as by dim and curious suggestion, a sense of ordered preparation -slowly accumulating behind the mass of shadowy trees. The picture -then sharpened into more definite outline. The forest was busy with -the stirrings of a million thread-like airs that built up together -the body of a rising wind, yet not of wind as commonly experienced, -but rather of some subtler, more acute activity of which wind is but -the outer vehicle. The inner activity, of which it is the sensible -manifestation—the body—was beginning to move. The soul of air itself -was stirring. These million ghost-like airs were lifting wings from -their invisible, secret lairs, all running as by a word of command -towards a determined centre whence, obeying a spiritual summons, they -would presently fall upon the valley in that sensible manifestation -called the equinoctial gales. Behind the material effect, the spiritual -Cause was active.</p> - -<p>This imaginative picture grew upon me, as though in some way I was -let into the inner being of that life which prompts all natural -movements and hides, securely veiled, in every stock and stone. A new -interpretative centre was awake in me. In the movement of wind I was -aware of—life. Then, while this subtle perception that an intelligent, -directing power lay behind the very air I breathed, a similar report -reached me from another, equally elemental, quarter, though it is less -easy to describe.</p> - -<p>From the sun? Originally, yes—since primarily from the sun emerges -all the heat the earth contains. It first stirred definite sensation -in me when my eye caught the final gleam upon the turreted walls of -vapour where still the sunset stood emblazoned. From that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> coloured sea -of light, and therefore of heat, something flashed in power through -me; a vision of running fire broke floodingly above the threshold of -my mind, ran into every corner of my being, left its inspiring trail, -became part of my very nerves and blood. Consciousness was deepened and -intensified.</p> - -<p>Yet it was neither common heat I felt nor common flame I pictured, -but rather a touch of that primordial and ethereal fire which dwells -at the heart of all manifested life—latent heat. For it was neither -yellow, red, nor white with any aspect of common flame, but what I can -only dare to describe as a fierce, dark splendour, black and shining, -yet of intense, incandescent brilliance. The contradictory adjectives -catch a ghost of it. Moreover, I was aware of no discomfort, for while -it threatened to overwhelm me, the chief effect was to leave a glow, a -radiance, an enthusiasm of strengthened will and confidence, combined -with a sense of lightning’s power. It was spiritual heat, of which fire -is but a physical vehicle. The central fire of the universe burned in -my heart.</p> - -<p>I realised, in a word, that both elements were vehicles of intelligent -and living Agencies. Of their own accord they became active, and -natural laws were but their method of activity. They were alert; the -valley was alive, combining, co-operating with myself—and taking -action.</p> - -<p>This was their first exquisite approach. But presently, when I moved -away from the window, the sunset clouds grown dark and colourless -again, I realised lesser manifestations of this new emotion which may -seem more intelligible when I set them down in words. The candle flame, -for instance, and the flaring match with which I lit my cigarette -seemed not so much to produce fire by a chemical device, as to puncture -holes through a curtain into that sea of latent fire that lies in all -material things. The breath of air, moreover, that extinguished the -flame did not annihilate it, but merged it into the essential being of -its own self. The two acted in sympathy together. Both Wind and Fire -drew attention to themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span> of set intention, insisting upon notice, -as if inviting co-operation.</p> - -<p>And something leviathan leaped up in me to welcome them. The standing -miracle of fire lit up the darkened valley. Pure flame revealed itself -suddenly as the soul in me, the eternal part that remembered and grew -wise, the deathless part that survived all successive bodies.</p> - -<p>And I realised with a shock of comprehension the danger that Julius ran -in the evocation that his “experiment” involved: Fire, once kindled, -and aided naturally by air, must seek to destroy the prison that -confines it....</p> - -<p>I remained for some time in my room. My will, my power of choice, -seemed taken from me. My life moved with these vaster influences. I -argued vehemently with some part of me that still offered a vague -resistance. It was the merest child’s play. I figured myself in my -London lecture room, explaining to my students the course and growth of -the delusion that had captured me. The result was futile; I convinced -neither my students nor myself. It was the thinking mind in me that -opposed, but it was another thing in me that <em>knew</em>, and this other -thing was enormously stronger than the reasoning mind, and overwhelmed -it. No amount of arguing could stand against the power of knowledge -that had become established in me by feeling-with. I felt-with Nature, -especially with her twin elemental powers of wind and fire. And this -wisdom of feeling-with dominated my entire being. Denial and argument -were merely false.</p> - -<p>All that evening this sense of the companionship of Wind and Fire -remained vividly assertive. Everywhere they moved about me. They -acted in concert, each assisting the other. I was for ever aware of -them; their physical manifestations were as great dumb gestures of -two living and intelligent Immensities in Nature. Yet it was only in -part, perhaps, I knew them. Their full, amazing power never came to -me completely. The absolute realisation that came to Julius in full -consciousness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> was not mine. I shared at most, it seems, a reflected -knowledge, seeing what happened as through some lens of half-recovered -memory.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Moreover, supper, when I came downstairs to find Julius and his wife -already waiting for me, was the most ordinary and commonplace meal -imaginable. We talked of the weather! Mrs. LeVallon was light-hearted, -almost gay, though I felt it was repressed excitement that drove -outwards this trivial aspect of her. But for the fact that all she -did now seemed individual and distinguished, her talk and gestures -might have scraped acquaintance with mere foolishness. Indeed, our -light talk and her irresponsibility added to the sense of reality I -have mentioned. It was a mask, and the mask dropped occasionally with -incongruous abruptness that was startling.</p> - -<p>Such insignificant details revealed the immediate range of the Powers -that watched and waited close beside our chairs. That sudden, fixed -expression in her eyes, for instance, when the Man brought in certain -private papers, handed them to Julius who, after reading them, -endorsed them with a modern fountain pen, then passed them on to me! -That fountain pen and her accompanying remark—how incongruous and -insignificant they were! Both seemed symbolical items in some dwindled, -trivial scale of being!</p> - -<p>“It isn’t everybody that’s got a professor for a secretary, Julius, is -it?”</p> - -<p>She said it with her mouth full, her elbows on the table, and only -that other look in the watchful eyes seemed to contradict the -awkward, untaught body. There was a flash of tenderness and passion -in them, a pathetic questioning and wonder, as though she saw in her -husband’s act an acknowledgment of dim forebodings in her own deep -heart. She appealed, it seemed, to me. Was it that she divined he -was already slipping from her, farewells all unsaid, yet that she -was—inarticulate? ... The entire little scene, the words, the laughter -and the look, were but evidence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> of an attempt to lift the mask. Her -choice of words, their accent and pronunciation, that fountain pen, the -endorsement, the stupid remark about myself—were all these lifted by -those yearning eyes into the tragedy of a fateful good-bye message? ...</p> - -<p>More significant still, though even less direct, was another -moment—when the Man stretched his arm across the table to turn the -lamp up. For in this unnecessary act she saw—the intuition came -sharply to me—an effect of the approaching Powers upon his untutored -soul. The wick was already high enough when, with an abrupt, impulsive -movement, he stooped to turn it higher; and instantly Mrs. LeVallon -was on her feet, her face first pale, then hotly flushed. She rose -as though to strike him, then changed the gesture as if to ward a -blow—almost to protect. It was an impetuous, revealing act.</p> - -<p>Out of some similar impulse, too, only half understood, I sprang to her -assistance.</p> - -<p>“There’s light enough,” I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“And heat,” she added quickly. “Good Lord! the room’s that hot, it’s -like a furnace!”</p> - -<p>She flashed a look of gratitude at me. What exactly was in her mind -I cannot know, but in my own was the strange feeling that the less -<em>visible</em> fire in the air the better. An expression of perplexed alarm -showed itself in the face of the faithful but inarticulate serving man. -Unwittingly he had blundered. His distress was acute. I almost thought -he would drop to his knees and lick his mistress’s hand for forgiveness.</p> - -<p>Whether Julius perceived all this is hard to say. He looked up -calmly, watching us; but the glance he gave, and the fact that he -spoke no word, made me think he realised what the energy of her tone -and gesture veiled. The desire to assist the increase of heat, of -fire—co-operation—had acted upon the physical medium least able to -resist—the most primitive system present. The approach of the two -Activities affected us, one and all.</p> - -<p>There were other incidents of a similar kind before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span> the meal was over, -quite ordinary in themselves, yet equally revealing; my interpretation -of them due to this enhanced condition of acute perception that -pertained to awakening memory. Air and fire accumulated, flake by -flake. A kind of radiant heat informed all common objects. It was in -our hearts as well. And wind was waiting to blow it into flame.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h3> -</div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>Not yet are fixed the prison bars;</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>The hidden light the spirit owns</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>If blown to flame would dim the stars</em></div> -<div class="line indent"><em>And they who rule them from their thrones:</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>And the proud sceptred spirits thence</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Would bow to pay us reverence.</em>”—A. E.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">It</span> was out of this accumulation of unusual emotion that a slight -but significant act of Julius recalled me to the outer world. I was -lighting my pipe—from the chimney of the lamp rather than by striking -a match—when I overheard him telling the Man that, instead of sitting -up as usual, he might go to bed at once. He went off obediently, but -with some latent objection, half resentment, half opposition, in his -manner. There was a sulkiness as of disappointment in his face. He -knew that something unusual was on foot, and he felt that he should by -rights be in it—he might be of use, he might be needed. There was this -dumb emotion in him, as in a faithful dog who, scenting danger, is not -called upon to fight, and so retires growling to his kennel.</p> - -<p>He went slowly, casting backward glances, and at the door he turned and -caught my eye. I had only to beckon, to raise my hand a moment, to say -a word—he would have come running back with a bound into the room. But -the gaze of his master was upon him, and he went; and though he may -have lain down in his room beyond the kitchen, I felt perfectly sure he -did not sleep. His body lay down, but not his excited instincts.</p> - -<p>For this dismissal of the Man was, of course, a signal. The three of -us were then in that dim-lit peasant’s room—alone; and for a long -time in a silence broken only by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span> the sparks escaping from the burning -logs upon the hearth, and by the low wind that now went occasionally -sighing past the open window. We sat there waiting, not looking at each -other, yet each aware of the slightest physical or mental movement. -It was an intense and active silence in which deep things were being -accomplished; for, if Mrs. LeVallon and myself were negative, I was -alert to immense and very positive actions that were going forward in -the being of our companion. Julius, sitting quietly with folded hands, -his face just beyond the lamp’s first circle of light, was preparing, -and with a stress of extreme internal effort that made the silence -seem a field of crashing battle. The entire strength of this strange -being’s soul, co-operating with Nature, and by methods of very ancient -acquirement known fully to himself alone, sought an achievement that -should make us act as one. Through two natural elemental powers, fire -and wind—both vitally part of us since the body’s birth—we could -claim the incalculable support of the entire universe. It was a cosmic -act. Ourselves were but the channel. Later this channel would define -itself still more.</p> - -<p>Beneath those smoke-stained rafters, as surely as beneath the vaulted -roof of some great temple, stepped worship and solemnity. The change -came gradually. From the sky above the star-lit valley this grave, -tremendous attitude swung down into our hearts. Not alone the isolated -châlet, but the world itself contained us, a temple wherein we, -insignificant worshippers, knelt before the Universe. For the powers we -invoked were not merely earthly powers, but those cosmic energies that -drove and regulated even the flocks of stars.</p> - -<p>Mrs. LeVallon and I both knew it dimly, as we waited with beating -hearts in that great silence. She scarcely moved. Somehow divining the -part she had to play, she sat there motionless as a figure in stone, -offering no resistance. Her reawakened memory must presently guide -us; she knew the importance of her rôle, and the composure with which -she accepted it touched grandeur. Yet each one of us was necessary. -If Julius took the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> leader’s part, her contribution, as my own, were -equally essential to success. If the greater risk was his, our own risk -was yet not negligible. The elemental Powers would take what channel -seemed best available. It was not a personal consideration for us. We -were most strangely <em>one</em>.</p> - -<p>My own measure of interpretation I have already attempted to describe. -Hers I guess intuitively. For we shared each other’s feelings as only -love and sympathy know how to share. These feelings now grew steadily -in power; and, obeying them, our bodies moved to new positions. We -changed our <em>attitudes</em>.</p> - -<p>For I remember that while Julius rose and stood beside the table, his -wife went quietly from my side and seated herself before the open -window, her face turned towards the valley and the night. Instinctively -we formed a living triangle, Mrs. LeVallon at the apex. And, though -at the time I understood the precise significance of these changes, -reading clearly the language they acted out in motion, that discernment -is now no longer in me, so that I cannot give the perfect expression -of meaning they revealed. Upon Julius, however, some appearance, -definite as a robe upon the head and shoulders, proclaimed him a figure -of command and somehow, too, of tragedy. It set him in the centre. -Close beside me, within the circle of the lamplight, I watched him—so -still, so grave, the face of marble pallor, the dark hair tumbling as -of old about the temples whereon the effort of intensest concentration -made the pulsing veins stand out as thick as cords. Calm as an image -he stood there for a period of time I cannot state. Beyond him, in -the shadows by the window, his wife’s figure was just visible as she -leaned, half reclining, across the wooden sill into the night. There -was no sound from the outer valley, there was no sound in the room. -Then, suddenly of itself, a change approached. The silence broke.</p> - -<p>“Julius...!” came faintly from the window, as Mrs. LeVallon with a -sudden gesture drew the curtain to shut out the darkness. She turned -towards us.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span> “Julius!” And her voice, using the tone I had heard before -when she fled past me up that meadow slope, sounded as from some space -beyond the walls. I looked up, my nerves on the alert, for it came to -me that she was at the limit of endurance and that something now must -break in her.</p> - -<p>Julius moved over to her side, while she put her hands out first to -welcome him, then half to keep him off. He spoke no word. He took her -outstretched hands in both of his, leading her back a little nearer -towards the centre of the room.</p> - -<p>“Julius,” she whispered, “what frightens me to-night? I’m all a-shiver. -There’s something coming?—but what is it? And why do I seem to know, -yet not to know?”</p> - -<p>He answered her quietly, the voice deep with tenderness:</p> - -<p>“We three are here together”—I saw the shining smile I knew of -old—“and there is no cause to feel afraid. You are tired with your -long, long waiting.” And he meant, I knew, the long fatigue of ages -that she apprehended, but did not grasp fully yet. She was Mrs. -LeVallon still.</p> - -<p>“I’m both hot and cold together, and all oppressed,” she went on; -“like a fever it is—icy and yet on fire. I can’t get at myself, to -keep it still. Julius ... what is it?” The whisper held somehow for -me the potentiality of scream. Then, taking his two hands closer, -she raised her voice with startling suddenness. “Julius,” she cried, -“I know what frightens me—it’s <em>you!</em> What are you to-night?” She -looked searchingly a moment into his face. “And what is this thing -that’s going to happen to you? I hear it coming nearer—outside”—she -moved further from the curtained window with small, rushing steps, -looking back across her shoulder—“all down the valley from the -mountains, those awful mountains. Oh, Julius, it’s coming—for you—my -husband——! And for him,” she added, laying her eyes upon me like a -flame.</p> - -<p>I thought the tears must come, but she held them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> back, looking -appealingly at me, and clutching Julius as though he would slip from -her. Then, with a quick movement and a little gust of curious laughter, -she clapped her hand upon her mouth to stop the words. Something she -meant to say to me was left unspoken, she was ashamed of the momentary -weakness. “Mrs. LeVallon” was still uppermost.</p> - -<p>“Julius,” she added more softly, “there’s something about to-night I -haven’t known since childhood. There’s such heat and—oh, hark!”—she -stopped a moment, holding up her finger—“there’s a sound—like riggin’ -in the wind. But it ain’t wind. What is it, Julius? And why is that -wonderful?”</p> - -<p>Yet no sound issued from the quiet valley; it was as still as death. -Even the sighing of the breeze had ceased about the walls.</p> - -<p>“If only I understood,” she went on, looking from his face to mine, “if -only I knew exactly. It was something,” she added almost to herself, -“that used to come to me when I was little—on the farm—and I put it -away because it made me”—she whispered the last two words below her -breath—“feel crazy——”</p> - -<p>“Crazy?” repeated Julius, smiling down at her.</p> - -<p>“Like a queen,” she finished proudly, yet still timid. “I couldn’t feel -that way and do my work.” And her long lashes lifted, so that the eyes -flashed at me across the table. “It made everything seem too easy.”</p> - -<p>I cannot say what quality was in his voice, when, leading her gently -towards a wicker chair beside the fire, he spoke those strange words of -comfort. There seemed a resonant power in it that brought strength and -comfort in. She smiled as she listened, though it was not her brain his -language soothed. That other look began to steal upon her face as he -proceeded.</p> - -<p>“<em>You!</em>” he said gently, “so wonderful a woman, and so poised with the -discipline these little nerves forget—you cannot yield to the fear -that loneliness and darkness bring to children.” She settled down into -the chair, gazing into his face as he settled the cushions for her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span> -back. Her hands lay in her lap. She listened to every syllable, while -the expression of perplexity grew less marked. And the change upon her -features deepened as he continued: “There are moments when the soul -sees her own shadow, and is afraid. The Past comes up so close. But the -shadow and the fear will pass. We three are here. Beyond all chance -disaster, we stand together ... and to our real inner selves nothing -that is sad or terrible can ever happen.”</p> - -<p>Again her eyes flashed their curious lightning at me as I watched; but -the sudden vague alarm was passing as mysteriously as it came. She -said no more about the wind and fire. The magic of his personality, -rather than the words which to her could only have seemed singular and -obscure, had touched the sources of her strength. Her face was pale, -her eyes still bright with an unwonted brilliance, but she was herself -again—I think she was no longer the “upper” self I knew as “Mrs. -LeVallon.” The marvellous change was slowly stealing over her.</p> - -<p>“You’re cold and tired,” he said, bending above her. “Come closer to -the fire—with us all.”</p> - -<p>I saw her shrink, for all the brave control she exercised. The word -“fire” came on her like a blow. “It’s not my body,” she answered; -“that’s neither cold nor tired. It’s another thing—behind it.” She -turned toward the window, where the curtain at that moment rose -and fell before a draught of air. “I keep getting the feeling that -something’s coming to-night for—one of us.” She said it half to -herself, and Julius made no answer. I saw her look back then at the -glowing fire of wood and peat. At the same moment she threw out both -hands first as if to keep the heat away, then as though to hold her -husband closer.</p> - -<p>“Julius! If you went from me! If I lost you——!”</p> - -<p>I heard his low reply:</p> - -<p>“Never, through all eternity, can <em>we</em> go—away from one -another—except for moments.”</p> - -<p>She partly understood, I think, for a great sigh, but half suppressed, -escaped her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span></p> - -<p>“Moments,” she murmured, “that are very long ... and lonely.”</p> - -<p>It was then, as she said the words, that I noticed the change which so -long had been rising, establish itself definitely in the luminous eyes. -That other colour fastened on them—the deep sea-green. “Mrs. LeVallon” -before my sight sank slowly down, and a completer, far more ancient -self usurped her. Small wonder that my description halts in confusion -before so beautiful a change, for it was the beginning of an actual -transfiguration of her present person. It was bewildering to watch -the gradual, enveloping approach of that underlying Self, shrine of a -million memories, deathless, and ripe with long-forgotten knowledge. -The air of majesty that she wore in the sleep-walking incident gathered -by imperceptible degrees about the uninspired modern presentment that -I knew. Slowly her face turned calm with beauty. The features composed -themselves in some new mould of grandeur. The perplexity, at first so -painfully apparent, but marked the singular passage of the less into -the greater. I saw it slowly disappear. As she lay back in that rough -chair of a peasant’s châlet, there was some calm about her as of the -steadfast hills, some radiance as of stars, a suggestion of power that -told me—as though some voice whispered it in my soul—she knew the -link with Nature re-established finally within her being. Her head -turned slightly towards me. I stood up.</p> - -<p>Instinctively I moved across the room and drew the curtain back. I -saw the stars; I saw the dark line of mountains; the odours of forest -and meadow came in with sweetness; I heard the tinkling of the little -stream—yet all contained somehow in the message of her turning head -and shoulders.</p> - -<p>There was no sound, there was no spoken word, but the language was -one and unmistakable. And as I came slowly again towards the fire -Julius stood over her, uttering in silence the same stupendous thing. -The sense of my own inclusion in it was amazing. He smiled down into -her lifted face. These two, myself a vital link<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span> between them, smiled -across the centuries at one another. We formed—I noticed then—with -the fire and the open window into space—a circle.</p> - -<p>To say that I grasped some spiritual import in these movements of our -bodies, realising that they acted out an inevitable meaning, is as true -as my convinced belief can make it. It is also true that in this, my -later report of the event, that meaning is no longer clear to me. I -cannot recover the point of view that discerned in our very positions -a message of some older day. The significance of attitude and gesture -then were clear to me; the translation of this three-dimensional -language I have lost again. A man upon his knees, two arms outstretched -to clasp, a head bowed down, a pointing finger—these are interpretable -gestures and attitudes that need no spoken words. Similarly, following -some forgotten wisdom, our related movements held a ceremonial import -that, by way of acceptance or refusal, helped or hindered the advance -of the elemental powers then invoked. In some marvellous fashion one -consciousness was shared amongst us all. We worked with a living -Nature, and a living Nature worked actively with us, and it was -attitude, movement, gestures, rather than words, that assisted the -alliance.</p> - -<p>Then Julius took the hand that lay nearest to him, while the other she -lifted to place within my own. And a light breeze came through the open -window at that moment, touched the embers of the glowing logs, and blew -them into flame. I felt our hands tighten as that slight increase of -heat and air passed into us. For in that passing breeze was the eternal -wind which is the breath of God, and in that flame upon the hearth was -the fire which burns in suns and lights the heart in men and women....</p> - -<p>There came with unexpected suddenness, then, a moment of very poignant -human significance—because of the great perspective against which it -rose. She sat erect; she gazed into his face and mine; in her eyes -burned an expression of beseeching love and sacrifice, but a love and -sacrifice far older than this present world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> on which her body lay. Her -arms stretched out and opened, she raised her lips, and, while I looked -aside, she kissed him softly. I turned away from that embrace, aware in -my heart that it was a half-divined farewell ... and when I looked back -again the little scene was over.</p> - -<p>He bent slightly down, releasing the hand he held, and signifying by a -gesture that I should do the same. Her body relaxed a little; she sank -deeper into the chair; she sighed. I realised that he was assisting -her into that artificial slumber which would lead to the full release -of the subconscious self whose slow approach she already half divined. -Stooping above her, he gently touched the hypnogenic points above the -eyes and behind the ears. It was the oldest memories he sought. She -offered them quite willingly.</p> - -<p>“Sleep!” he said soothingly, command and tenderness mingled in the -voice. “Sleep ... and remember!” With the right hand he made slow, -longitudinal passes before her face. “Sleep, and recover what you ... -knew! We need your guidance.”</p> - -<p>Her body swayed a little before it settled; her feet stretched nearer -to the fire; her respiration rapidly diminished, becoming deep and -regular; with the movement of her bosom the band of black velvet -rose and fell about the neck, her hands lay folded in her lap. And, -as I watched, my own personal sensations of quite nameless joy and -anguish passed into a curious abandonment of self that merged me too -completely in the solemnity of worship to leave room for pain. Hand in -hand with the earthly darkness came in to us that Night of Time which -neither sleeps nor dies, and like a remembered dream up stole our -inextinguishable Past.</p> - -<p>“Sleep!” he repeated, lower than before.</p> - -<p>Cold, indeed, touched my heart, but with it came a promise of some -deep spiritual sweetness, rich with the comfort of that life which is -both abundant and universal. The valley and the sky, stars, mountains, -forests, running water, all that lay outside of ourselves in Nature -everywhere, came with incredible appeal into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> my soul. Confining -barriers crumbled, melted into air; the imprisoned human forces leaped -forth to meet the powers that “inanimate” Nature holds. I knew the -drive of tireless wind, the rush of irresistible fire. It seemed a -state in which we all joined hands, a state of glory that justified the -bravest hopes, annihilating doubt and disbelief.</p> - -<p>She slept. And in myself something supremely sure, supremely calm, -looked on and watched.</p> - -<p>“It helps,” Julius murmured in my ear, referring to the sleep; “it -makes it easier for her. She will remember now ... and guide.”</p> - -<p>He moved to her right side, I to her left. Between the fire and the -open window we formed then—a line.</p> - -<p>Along a line there is neither tension nor resistance. It was the -primitive, ultimate figure.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">A rush</span> of air ran softly round the walls and roof, then dropped away -into silence. There was this increased activity outside. A roar next -sounded in the chimney, high up rather; a block of peat fell with a -sudden crash into the grate, sending a shower of sparks to find the -outer air. Behind us the pine boards cracked with miniature, sharp -reports.</p> - -<p>Julius continued the longitudinal passes, and “Mrs. LeVallon” passed -with every minute into deeper and more complete somnambulism. It was a -natural, willing process. He merely made it easier for her. She sank -slowly into the deep subconscious region where all the memories of the -soul lie stored for use.</p> - -<p>It seemed that everything was in abeyance in myself, except the central -fact that this experience was true. The rest of existence fell away, -clipped off as by a pair of mighty shears. Both fire and wind seemed -actively about me; yet not unnaturally. There was this heat and lift, -but there was nothing frantic. The native forces in me were raised to -their ultimate capacity, though never for a moment beyond the limit -that high emotion might achieve. Nature accomplished the abnormal, -possibly, but still according to law and what was—or had been -once—comprehensible.</p> - -<p>The passes grew slower, with longer intervals between; Mrs. LeVallon -lay motionless, the lips slightly parted, the skin preternaturally -pale, the eyelids tightly closed.</p> - -<p>“Hush!” whispered Julius, as I made an involuntary movement, “it is -still the normal sleep, and she may easily awake. Let no sound disturb -her. It must go gradually.” He spoke without once removing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> his gaze -from her face. “Be ready to write what you hear,” he added, “and help -by ‘thinking’ fire and wind—in my direction.”</p> - -<p>A long-drawn sigh was audible, accompanied by the slightest possible -convulsive movement of the reclining body.</p> - -<p>“She sinks deeper,” he whispered, ceasing the passes for a moment. “The -consciousness is already below the deep-dream stage. Soon she will -wake into the interior lucidity when her Self of To-day will touch the -parent source behind. <em>They</em> are already with her: they light—and -lift—her soul. She will remember all her past, and will direct us.”</p> - -<p>I made no answer; I asked no questions; I stood and watched, willingly -sympathetic, yet incapable of action. The curious scene held something -of tragedy and grandeur. There was triumph in it. The sense of Nature -working with us increased, yet we ourselves comparatively unimportant. -The earth, the sky, the universe took part and were involved in our -act of restitution. It was beyond all experience. It was also—at -times—intolerable.</p> - -<p>The body settled deeper into the chair; the crackling of the wicker -making sharp reports in the stillness. The pallor of the face -increased; the cheeks sank in, the framework of the eyes stood out; -imperceptibly the features began to re-arrange themselves upon another, -greater scale, most visible, perhaps, in the strong, delicate contours -of the mouth and jaw. Upon Julius, too, as he stood beside her, came -down some indefinable change that set him elsewhere and otherwise. His -dignity, his deep solicitous tenderness, and at the same time a hint of -power that emanated more and more from his whole person, rendered him -in some intangible fashion remote and inaccessible. I watched him with -growing wonder.</p> - -<p>For over the room as well a change came stealing. In the shadows beyond -the fringe of lamplight, perspective altered. The room ran off in -distances that yet just escaped the eye: I <em>felt</em> the change, though -it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span> so real that the breath caught in me each time I sought to -focus it. Space spread and opened on all sides, above, below, while -so naturally that it was never actually unaccountable. Wood seemed -replaced by stone, as though the solidity of our material surroundings -deepened. I was aware of granite columns, corridors of massive build, -gigantic pylons towering to the sky. The atmosphere of an ancient -temple grew about my heart, and long-forgotten things came with a -crowding of half-familiar detail that insisted upon recognition. It was -an early memory, I knew, yet not the earliest....</p> - -<p>“Be ready.” I heard the low voice of Julius. “She is about to -wake—within,” and he moved a little closer to her, while I took up -my position by the table by the lamp. The paper lay before me. With -fingers that trembled I lifted the pencil, waiting. The hands of the -sleeping woman raised themselves feebly, then fell back upon the arms -of the chair. It seemed she tried to make signs but could not quite -complete them. The expression on the face betrayed great internal -effort.</p> - -<p>“Where are you?” Julius asked in a steady but very gentle tone.</p> - -<p>The answer came at once, with slight intervals between the words:</p> - -<p>“In a building ... among mountains....”</p> - -<p>“Are you alone?”</p> - -<p>“No ... not alone,” spoken with a faint smile, the eyes still tightly -closed.</p> - -<p>“Who, then, is with you?”</p> - -<p>“You ... and he,” after a momentary hesitation.</p> - -<p>“And who am I?”</p> - -<p>The face showed slight confusion; there was a gesture as though she -felt about her in the air to find him.</p> - -<p>“I do not know ... quite,” came the halting answer. “But you—both—are -mine ... and very near to me. Or else you own me. All three are so -close I cannot see ourselves apart ... quite.”</p> - -<p>“She is confused between two memories,” Julius whispered to me. “The -true regression of memory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span> has not yet begun. The present still -obscures her consciousness.”</p> - -<p>“It is coming,” she said instantly, aware of his lightest whisper.</p> - -<p>“All in due time,” he soothed her in a tender tone; “there is no hurry. -Nor is there anything to fear——”</p> - -<p>“I am not afraid. I am ... happy. I feel safe.” She paused a moment, -then added: “But I must go deeper ... further down. I am too near the -surface still.”</p> - -<p>He made a few slow passes at some distance from her face, and I saw -the eyelids flutter as though about to lift. She sighed deeply. She -composed herself as into yet deeper sleep.</p> - -<p>“Ah! I see better now,” she murmured. “I am sinking ... sinking ...”</p> - -<p>He waited for several minutes and then resumed the questioning.</p> - -<p>“Now tell me who <em>you</em> are,” he enjoined.</p> - -<p>She faintly shook her head. Her lips trembled, as though she tried to -utter several names and then abandoned all. The effort seemed beyond -her. The perplexed expression on the face with the shut eyes was -movingly pathetic, so that I longed to help her, though I knew not how.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” she murmured instantly, with a gentle smile in my -direction. Our thoughts, then, already found each other!</p> - -<p>“Tell me who you are,” Julius repeated firmly. “It is not the name I -ask.”</p> - -<p>She answered distinctly, with a smile:</p> - -<p>“A mother. I am soon to be a mother and give birth.”</p> - -<p>He glanced at me significantly. There was both joy and sadness in his -eyes. But it was not this disclosure that he sought. She was still -entangled in the personality of To-day. It was far older layers of -memory and experience that he wished to read. “Once she gets free from -this,” he whispered, “it will go with leaps and bounds, whole centuries -at a time.” And again I knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> by the smile hovering round the lips that -she had heard and understood.</p> - -<p>“Pass deeper; pass beyond,” he continued, with more authority in the -tone. “Drive through—sink down into what lies so far behind.”</p> - -<p>A considerable interval passed before she spoke again, ten minutes at -the lowest reckoning, and possibly much longer. I watched her intently, -but with an afflicting anxiety at my heart. The body lay so still and -calm, it was like the immobility of death, except that once or twice -the forehead puckered in a little frown and the compression of the -lips told of the prolonged internal effort. The grander aspect of her -features came for moments flittingly, but did not as yet establish -itself to stay. She was still confused with the mind and knowledge -of To-day. At length a little movement showed itself; she changed -the angle of her head in an effort to look up and speak; a scarcely -perceptible shudder ran down the length of her stretched limbs. “I -cannot,” she murmured, as though glancing at her husband with closed -eyelids. “Something blocks the way. I cannot see. It’s too thickly -crowded ... crowded.”</p> - -<p>“Describe it, and pass on,” urged Julius patiently. There was -unalterable decision in his quiet voice. And in her tone a change was -also noticeable. I was profoundly moved; only with a great effort I -controlled myself.</p> - -<p>“They crowd so eagerly about me,”—the choice of words seemed no longer -quite “Mrs. LeVallon’s”—“with little arms outstretched and pleading -eyes. They seek to enter, they implore ...”</p> - -<p>“Who are they?”</p> - -<p>“The Returning Souls.” The love and passion in her voice brought near, -as in a picture, the host of reincarnating souls eager to find a body -for their development in the world. They besieged her, clamouring for -birth—for a body.</p> - -<p>“Your thoughts invite them,” replied Julius, “but you have the power to -decide.” And then he asked more sternly: “Has any entered yet?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span></p> - -<p>It was unspeakably moving—this mother willing to serve with anguish -the purpose of advancing souls. Yet this was all of To-day. It was -not the thing he sought. The general purpose must stand aside for the -particular. There was an error to be set right first. She had to seek -its origin among the ages infinitely far away. The guidance Julius -sought lay in the long ago. But the safety of the little unborn body -troubled him, it seemed.</p> - -<p>“As yet,” she murmured, “none. The little body of the boy is empty ... -though besieged.”</p> - -<p>“By whom besieged?” he asked more loudly. “Who hinders?”</p> - -<p>The little body of the boy! And it was then a further change came -suddenly, both in her face and voice, and in the voice of Julius too.</p> - -<p>That larger expression of some forgotten grandeur passed into her -features, and she half sat up in the chair; there was a stiffening of -the frame; resistance, power, an attitude of authority, replaced the -former limpness. The moment was, for me, electrifying. Ice and fire -moved upon my skin.</p> - -<p>She opened her lips to speak, but no words were audible.</p> - -<p>“Look close—and tell me,” came from Julius gravely.</p> - -<p>She made an effort, then shrank back a little, this time raising one -arm as though to protect herself from something coming, then sharply -dropping it again over the heart and body.</p> - -<p>“I cannot see,” she murmured, slightly frowning; “they stand so close -and ... are ... so splendid. They are too great ... to see.”</p> - -<p>“Who—what—are they?” he insisted. He took her hand in his. I saw her -smile.</p> - -<p>The simple words were marvellously impressive. Depths of untold memory -stirred within me as I heard.</p> - -<p>“Powers ... we knew ... so long ago.”</p> - -<p>Some ancient thing in me opened an eye and saw. The Powers we evoked -came seeking an entrance, brought nearer by our invitation. They came -from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span> silent valley; they were close about the building. But only -through a human channel could they emerge from the spheres where they -belonged.</p> - -<p>“Describe them, and pass on,” I heard Julius say, and there came a -pause then that I thought would never end. The look of power rolled -back upon her face. She spoke with joy, with a kind of happiness as -though she welcomed them.</p> - -<p>“They rush and shine.... They flood the distance like a sea, and yet -stand close against my heart and blood. They are clothed in wind and -fire. I see the diadems of flame ascending and descending. Their breath -is all the winds. There is such roaring. I see mountains of wind and -fire ... advancing ... nearer ... nearer.... We used them—we invited -... long, long ago.... And so they ... come again about us....”</p> - -<p>His following command appalled me:</p> - -<p>“Keep them back. You must protect the vacant body from invasion.”</p> - -<p>And then he added in tones that seemed to make the very air vibrate, -although the voice but whispered, “You must direct them—towards <em>me</em>.”</p> - -<p>He moved to a new position, so that we formed a triangle again. Dimly -at the time I understood. The circle signified the union which, having -received, enclosed the mighty forces. Only it enclosed too much; the -danger of misdirection had appeared. The triangle, her body forming -the apex towards the open night, aimed at controlling the immense -arrival by lessening the entry. Another thing stood out, too, with -crystal clearness—at the time: the elemental Powers sought the easiest -channel, the channel of least resistance, the body still unoccupied: -whereas Julius offered—himself. The risk must be his and his alone. -There was—in those few steps he took across the dim-lit room—a -sense of tremendous, if sinister, drama that swept my heart with both -tenderness and terror. The significance of his changed position was -staggering.</p> - -<p>I watched the sleeper closely. The lips grew more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span> compressed, and the -fingers of both hands clenched themselves upon the dark dress on her -lap. I saw the muscles of the altering face contract with effort; the -whole framework of the body became more rigid. Then, after several -minutes, followed a gradual relaxation, as she sank back again into her -original position.</p> - -<p>“They retire ...” she murmured with a sigh. “They retire ... into -darkness a little. But they still ... wait and hover. I hear the rush -of their great passing.... I see the distant shine of fire ... still.”</p> - -<p>“And the souls?” he asked gently, “do they now return?”</p> - -<p>She lowered her head as with a gesture of relief.</p> - -<p>“They are crowding, crowding. I see them as an endless flight of -birds....” She held out her arms, then shrank back sharply. An -expression I could not interpret flashed across the face. Behind a -veil, it seemed. And the stern voice of Julius broke in upon the -arrested action:</p> - -<p>“Invite them by your will. Draw to you by desire and love one eager -soul. The little vacant body must be occupied, so that the Mighty Ones, -returning, shall find it thus impossible of entry.”</p> - -<p>It was a command; it was also a precaution; for if the body of the -child were left open it would inevitably attract the invading Powers -from—himself. I watched her very closely then. I saw her again stretch -out her arms and hands, then once again—draw sharply back. But this -time I understood the expression on the quivering face. The veil had -lifted.</p> - -<p>By what means this was clear to me, yet hidden from Julius, I cannot -say. Perhaps the ineradicable love that she and I bore for one another -in that long-forgotten time supplied the clue. But of this I am -certain—that she disobeyed him. She left the little waiting body as -it was, empty, untenanted. Life—a soul returning to re-birth—was not -conceived and did not enter in. The reason, moreover, was also clear -to me in that amazing moment of her choice: she divined his risk of -failure, she wished to save him, she left open the channel of least<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span> -resistance of set purpose—the unborn body. For a love known here and -now, she sacrificed a love as yet unborn. If Julius failed, at least he -would not now be destroyed; there would be another channel ready.</p> - -<p>That thus she thought, intended, I felt convinced. If her mistake -was fraught with more danger than she knew, my lips were yet somehow -sealed. Our deeper, ancient bond gave me the clue that to Julius -was not offered, but no words came from me to enlighten him. It -seemed beyond my power; I should have broken faith with her, a faith -unbelievably precious to me.</p> - -<p>For a long time, then, there was silence in the little room, while -LeVallon continued to make slow passes as before. The anguish left -her face, drowned wholly in the grander expression that she wore. She -breathed deeply, regularly, without effort, the head sunk forward a -little on the breast. The rustle of his coat as his arm went to and -fro, and the creaking of the wicker chair were all I heard. Then, -presently, Julius turned to me with a low whisper I can hear to this -very day. “I, and I alone,” he said, “am the rightful channel. I have -waited long.” He added more that I have forgotten; I caught something -about “all the aspects being favourable,” and that he felt confidence, -sure that he would not fail.</p> - -<p>“You will not,” I interrupted passionately, “you dare not fail....” And -then speech suddenly broke down in me, and some dark shadow seemed to -fall upon my senses so that I neither heard nor saw nor felt anything -for a period I cannot state.</p> - -<p>An interval there certainly was, and of some considerable length -probably, for when I came to myself again there was change -accomplished, though a change I could not properly estimate. His -voice filled the room, addressing the sleeper as before, yet in a way -that told me there had been progress accomplished while I had been -unconscious.</p> - -<p>“Deeper yet,” I heard, “pass down deeper yet, pass back across a -hundred intervening lives to that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span> far-off time and place when -first—<em>first</em>—we called Them forth. Sink down into your inmost being -and remember!”</p> - -<p>And in her immediate answer there was a curious faintness as of -distance: “It is ... so ... far away ... so far beyond ...”</p> - -<p>“Beyond what?” he asked, the expression of “Other Places” deepening -upon his face.</p> - -<p>Her forehead wrinkled in a passing frown. “Beyond this earth,” she -murmured, as though her closed eyes saw within. “Oh, oh, it hurts. The -heat is awful ... the light ... the tremendous winds ... they blind, -they tear me...!” And she stopped abruptly.</p> - -<p>“Forget the pain,” he said; “it is already gone.” And instantly the -tension of her face relaxed. She drew a sigh of deep relief. Before I -could prevent it, my own voice sounded: “When we were nearer to the -sun!”</p> - -<p>She made no reply. He took my hand across the table and laid it on her -own. “She cannot hear your voice,” he said, “unless you touch us. She -is too far away. She does not even know that you are here beside me. -You of To-day she has forgotten, and the you of that long ago she has -not yet found.”</p> - -<p>“You speak with someone—but with whom?” she asked at once, turning her -head a little in my direction. Not waiting for his reply she at once -went on: “Upon another planet, yes ... but oh, so long ago....” And -again she paused.</p> - -<p>“The one immediately before this present one?” asked Julius.</p> - -<p>She shook her head gently. “Still further back than that ... the one -before the last, when first we knew delight of life ... without these -heavy, closing bodies. When the sun was nearer ... and we knew deity in -the fiery heat and mighty winds ... and Nature was ... ourselves....” -The voice wavered oddly, broke, and ceased upon a sigh. A thousand -questions burned in me to ask. An amazing certainty of recognition and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span> -remembrance burst through my heart. But Julius spoke before my tongue -found words.</p> - -<p>“Search more closely,” he said with intense gravity. “The time and -place we summoned Them is what we need—not where we first learned it, -but where we practised it and failed. Confine your will to that. Forget -the earlier planet. To help you, I set a barrier you cannot pass....”</p> - -<p>“The scene of our actual evocation is what we must discover,” he -whispered to me. “When that is found we shall be in touch with the -actual Powers our worship used.”</p> - -<p>“It was not there, in that other planet,” she murmured. “It was only -there we first gained the Nature-wisdom. Thence—we brought it with us -... to another time and place ... later ... much nearer to To-day—to -Earth.”</p> - -<p>“Remember, then, and see——” he began, when suddenly her unutterably -wonderful expression proclaimed that she at last had found it.</p> - -<p>It was curiously abrupt. He moved aside. We waited. I took up my -pencil between fingers that were icy cold. My gaze remained fixed upon -the motionless body. Those fast-closed eyes seemed cut in stone, as -if they never in this world could open. The forehead gleamed pale as -ivory in the lamplight. The soft gulping of the lamp oil beside me, -the crumbling of the firewood in the grate deepened the silence that -I feared to break. The pallid oval of the sleeper’s countenance shone -at me out of a room turned wholly dark. I forgot the place wherein we -sat, our names, our meanings in the present. For there grew vividly -upon that disc-like countenance the face of another person—and of one -I knew.</p> - -<p>And with this shock of recognition—there came over me both horror and -undying sweetness—a horror that the face would smile into my own with -a similar recognition, that from those lips a voice must come I should -remember; that those arms would lift, those hands stretch out; an -ecstasy that I should be remembered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span></p> - -<p>“Open!” I heard, as from far away, the voice of Julius.</p> - -<p>And then I realised that the eyes <em>were</em> open. The lids were raised, -the eyeballs faced the lamp. Some tension drew the skin sideways. They -were other eyes. The eternal Self looked out of them bringing the -message of a vast antiquity. They gazed steadily and clearly into mine.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">To-day</span> retired. I remembered Yesterday, but a Yesterday more remote, -perhaps, than the fire-mist out of which our little earth was born....</p> - -<p>I half rose in my chair. The first instinct—strong in me still as I -write this here in modern Streatham—was to fall upon my knees as in -the stress of some immense, remembered love. That glory caught me, -that power of an everlasting passion that was holy. Bathed in a sea of -perfect recollection, my eyes met hers, lost themselves, lived back -into a Past that had been joy. A flood of shame broke fiercely over -me that such a union could ever have seemed “forgotten.” That To-day -could smother Yesterday so easily seemed sacrilege. For this memory, -uprising from the mists of hoary pre-existence, brought in its train -other great emotions of recovered grandeur, all stirred into life by -this ancient ceremony we three acted out. Our purpose then had been, -I knew, no ordinary, selfish love, no lust of possession or ownership -behind it. Its aim and end were not mere personal contentment, mere -selfish happiness that excluded others, but, rather, a part of some -vast, co-ordinated process that involved all Nature with her powers and -workings, and fulfilled with beauty a purpose of the entire Universe. -It was holy in the biggest sense; it was divine. The significance -of our attitudes To-day was all explained—Julius, herself and I, -exquisitely linked to Nature, a group-soul formed by the loves of -Yesterday and Now.</p> - -<p>We gazed at one another in silence, smiling at our recovered wonder. -We spoke no word, we made no gesture; there was perfect comprehension; -we were, all three, as we had been—long ago. An earlier state<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span> of -consciousness took this supreme command.... And presently—how long the -interval I cannot say—<em>her</em> eyelids dropped, she drew a deep sigh of -happiness, and lay quiescent as before.</p> - -<p>It was then, I think, that the sense of worship in me became so -imperative that denial seemed impossible. Some inner act of adoration -certainly accomplished itself although no physical act resulted, -for I remember dropping back again into my chair, not knowing what -exactly I meant to do. The old desire for the long, sweet things of -the soul burst suddenly into flame, the inner yearning to know the -deathless Nature Powers which were the gods, and to taste divinity -by feeling-with their mighty beings. That early state of simpler -consciousness, it seems, lay too remote from modern things to be -translatable in clear language. Yet at the time I knew it, felt it, -realised it, because I lived it once again. The flood of aspiration -that bore me on its crest left thinking and reason utterly out of -account. No link survives To-day with the state we then recovered....</p> - -<p>And both she and Julius changed before my eyes. The châlet changed as -well, slipping into the shadowy spaces of some vast, pillared temple. -The soul in me realised its power and <em>knew</em> its origin divine. Bathed -in a sea of long-forgotten glory, it rose into a condition of sublimest -bliss and confidence. It recognised its destiny and claimed all Heaven. -And this raging fire of early spiritual ambition passed over me as upon -a mighty wind; desire and will became augmented as though wind blew -them into flame.</p> - -<p>“Watch ... and listen,” I heard, “and feel no fear!”</p> - -<p>The change visibly increased; it seemed that curtains lifted in -succession.... The sunken head was raised; the lips quivered with -approaching speech; the pale cheeks deepened with a sudden flush that -set the cheekbones in a quick, high light; the neck bent slightly -forward, foreshortening, as it were, the presentment of the head and -shoulders; while some indescribable touch of power painted the marble -brows cold and almost stern.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span> The entire countenance breathed the -august passion of a remoter age dropped close.... And to see the little -face I knew as Mrs. LeVallon, domestic servant in the world To-day, -unscreen itself thus before me, while its actual structure yet remained -unchanged, broke down the last resistance in me, and rendered my -subjugation absolute. Transfiguration was visibly accomplished....</p> - -<p>Once more she turned her head and looked at me. I met the eyes that -saw me and remembered. And, though I would have screened myself from -their tremendous gaze, there was no remnant of power in me that could -do so.... She smiled, then slowly withdrew her eyes.... I passed, with -these two beside me, back into the womb of pre-existence. We were upon -the Earth—at the very time and place where we had used the knowledge -brought from a still earlier globe.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“What do you see?” came in those quiet tones that rolled up time and -distance like a scroll. “Tell me now!” It was the scene of the lost -experiment he sought. We were close upon it.</p> - -<p>She spread her arms; her hands waved slowly through the air to indicate -these immense enclosing walls of stone about us. The voice reverberated -as in great hollow space.</p> - -<p>“Darkness ... and the Vacated Bodies,” was the reply. I knew that we -stood in the Hall of Silence where the bodies lay entranced while their -spirits went forth upon the three days’ quest. And one of these, I -knew, was mine.</p> - -<p>“What besides?”</p> - -<p>“The Guardians—who protect.”</p> - -<p>“Who are they? Who are these Guardians?”</p> - -<p>An expression of shrinking passed across her face, and disappeared -again. The eyes stared fixedly before her into space.</p> - -<p>“Myself,” she answered slowly, “you—Concerighé ... and ...”</p> - -<p>“There was another?” he asked. “Another who was with us?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span></p> - -<p>She hesitated. At first no answer came. She seemed to search the -darkness to discover it.</p> - -<p>“He is not near enough to see,” she murmured presently. “Somewhere -beyond ... he stands ... he lies ... I cannot see him clearly.”</p> - -<p>Julius touched my hand, and with the contact the expression on her face -grew clear. She smiled.</p> - -<p>“You see him now,” he said with decision.</p> - -<p>She turned her face towards me with a tender, stately movement. The -sterner aspect deepened into softness on the features. Great joy for an -instant passed into the strange sea-green eyes.</p> - -<p>“Silvatela,” she whispered, slightly lowering the head. “He offered -himself—for me. He lies now—empty at our feet.” And the utterance -of the name passed through me with a thrill of nameless sweetness. An -infinite desire woke, yet desire not for myself alone.</p> - -<p>“The time...?” asked Julius in that calm, reverent tone.</p> - -<p>She rose with a suddenness that made me start, though, somehow, I had -expected it. At her full height she stood between us. Then, spreading -her hands from both the temples outwards, she bowed her head to -the level of the breast. Julius, I saw, did likewise, and before I -realised it, the same deep, instinctive awe had brought me to my feet -in a similar obeisance. A breath of air from the night outside passed -sensibly between us, enough to stir the hair upon my head and increase -the fire on the hearth behind. It ceased, and a wave of comforting heat -moved in, paused a moment, settled like a great invisible presence, and -held the atmosphere.</p> - -<p>“It is the Pause in Nature,” I heard the answer, and saw that she was -seated in the chair once more. “The Third Day nears its end.... The -Questing Souls ... draw near again to enter. We have kept their vacated -bodies safe for them. Our task is almost over....”</p> - -<p>She drew a deep, convulsive sigh. Then Julius, taking her right hand, -guided my left to hold the other one. I touched her fingers and felt -them instantly clasp about my own; she sighed again, the frown went -from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span> her forehead, and turning her gaze upon us both she murmured:</p> - -<p>“I see clearly, I see everything.”</p> - -<p>The past surged over me in a drowning flood.</p> - -<p>“This is the moment, this the very place,” came the voice of Julius. -“It was at this moment we were faithless to our trust. We used your -body as the channel....” He turned slightly in my direction.</p> - -<p>“The moment and the place,” she interrupted. “There is just time. -Before the Souls return.... You have called upon the Powers.... Yet -both cannot enter! ... he ... and they....”</p> - -<p>There was a mighty, echoing cry.</p> - -<p>She stopped abruptly. Her face darkened as with some great internal -effort. I darkened too. My vision broke.... There was a sense of -interval....</p> - -<p>“And the channel——?” he asked below his breath.</p> - -<p>She shook her head slowly to and fro. “It lies waiting still in the -Iron Slumber.... You used it ... it is shattered.... The soul returning -finds it not.... His soul ... whom I loved ...”</p> - -<p>The voices ceased. A sudden darkness dropped. I had the sensation that -I was rushing, flying, whirling. The hand I clasped seemed melted into -air. I lost the final remnant of present things about me. The circle -of my own sensations, my identity, the identity of my two companions -vanished. A remarkable feeling of triumph came upon me, of joyful -power that lifted me high above all injury and death, while something -utterly gigantic asserted itself in the place of what had just been -“me”—something that could never be maimed, subdued, held prisoner. The -darkness then lifted, giving way before a hurricane of light that swept -me, as it were, upon a pinnacle. Secure and strong I felt beyond all -possible disaster, yet breathless amid things too long unfamiliar.... -And then, abruptly, I knew searing pain, the pain of something broken -in me, of spiritual incompleteness, disappointment.... I was called -back to lesser life—before my time—before some high fulfilment due to -me....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span></p> - -<p>Julius and Mrs. LeVallon were no longer there beside me, but in their -place I saw two solemn figures standing motionless and grave above a -prostrate body. It lay upon a marble slab, and sunlight fell over the -face and folded hands. The two moved forward. They knelt ... there -was a sound of voices as in prayer, a powerful, drawn-out sound that -produced intense vibrations, vibrations so immense that the motion in -the air was felt as wind. I saw gestures ... the body half rose up upon -its marble slab ... and then the blaze of some incredible effulgence -descended before my eyes, so fiercely brilliant, and accompanied by -such an intolerable, radiant heat ... that the entire scene went lost -behind great shafts of light that splintered and destroyed it ... -and an awful darkness followed, a darkness that again had pain and -incompleteness at the heart of it....</p> - -<p>One thing alone I understood—that body on the shining slab was mine. -My absent soul, deprived of high glory elsewhere that was mine by -right, returned into it unexpectedly, aware of danger. It had been used -for the purposes of evocation. I had met the two Powers evoked by means -of it midway: Fire and Wind....</p> - -<p>The vision vanished. I was standing in the châlet room again, he and -the woman by my side. There was a sense of enormous interval.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We were back among the present things again. I had merely re-lived -in a moment’s space a vision of that Past where these two had sinned -against me. The memory was gone again. We now resumed our present -reconstruction, by means of which the balance should be finally -restored. The same two elemental Powers were with us still. Summoned -once again—but this time that they might be dismissed.</p> - -<p>“The Messengers of Wind and Fire approach,” Julius was saying softly. -“Be ready for the Powers that follow after.”</p> - -<p>“But—there poured through me but a moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span> ago——” I began, when his -face stopped my speech sharply.</p> - -<p>“That ‘moment’ was sixty centuries ago! Keep hold now upon your will,” -he interrupted, yet without a trace of the vast excitement that <em>I</em> -felt, “lest they invade your heart instead of mine. The glory that you -knew was but the shadow of their coming—as long ago you returned <em>and -met them</em>—when we failed. Keep close watch upon your will. It is the -Equinox.... The pause now comes with midnight.”</p> - -<p>Even before he had done speaking the majesties of Wind and Fire were -upon us. And Nature came in with them. A dislocating change, swift -as the shaking of some immense thick shutter that hides life behind -material things, passed in a flash about us. We stood in a circle, -hands firmly clasped. There was a first effect as if those very hands -were fused and ran into a single molten chain. There was no outer -sound. The silence in the air was deathlike. But the sensation in my -soul was—life. The momentary confusion was stupendous, then passed -away. I stood in that room, but I stood in the valley too. I was in -Nature everywhere. I heard the deer go past me, I heard them on the -soft, sweet grass, I heard their breathing and the beating of their -hearts. Birds fluttered round my face and shoulders, I heard their -singing in my blood and ears, I knew their wild desires and freedom, -their darting to and fro, their swaying on the boughs. My feet were -running water, while yet the solid mass of earth and cliff stood up in -me. I also knew the growing of the flowers by the forests, tasted their -fragrance in my breath, their tender, delicate essence all unwasted. -It passed understanding, yet was natural as sight, for my hands went -far away, while still quite close, dipping among the stars that grew -and piled like heaps of gathered sand. It all was simple, easy, mine -by right. Nature gave me her myriad sensations without stint. I had -forgotten. I remembered. The universe stood open. “I” had entered with -these other two beside me.</p> - -<p><em>She</em> raised her arms aloft, taking our hands up with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span> her own, and -cried with a voice like wind against great branches:</p> - -<p>“They come! The Doors of Fire are wide, and the Gates of Wind stand -open! They enter the channel that is offered.”</p> - -<p>And his voice, like a roar of flame, came answering hers:</p> - -<p>“The salutations of the Fire and Wind are made! The channel is -prepared! There is no resistance!”</p> - -<p>They stood erect and rigid, their outlines merged with some strange -extension into space. They were superb, tremendous. There was no -shrinking there. The deities of wind and fire came up, seeking their -channel of return.</p> - -<p>And so “They” came. Yet not outwardly; nor was the terrific impact of -their advent known completely to any but himself alone who sought to -harbour them now within his little human organism. Into <em>my</em> heart -and soul poured but a fragment of their radiant, rushing presences. -About us all some intelligent power as of a living wind brought in -its mighty arms that ethereal fire which is not merely living, but -is life itself. Material objects wavered, then disappeared, thin as -transparent glass that increases light and heat. Walls, ceiling, floor -were burned away, yet not consumed; the atoms composing all physical -things glowed with a radiant energy they no longer could conceal. The -latent heat of inanimate Nature emerged, not rebellious but triumphant. -It was a deific manifestation of those natural powers which are the -first essentials of human existence—heat and air. We were not alien to -Nature, nor was Nature set apart from us; we shared her inexhaustible -life, and the glory of the Universe in which she is a fragment.</p> - -<p>“The Doors of the Creative Fire stand wide,” rang out her triumphant -voice again. “The golden splendour of the invisible Fire loosens and -flows free. The Breath of Life is everywhere ... our own.... But what, -oh what of—<em>him!</em>” The scene of their past audacious error swept again -before me. And, partially, I caught it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span></p> - -<p>Into a gulf of silence her words fell, recaptured from a mode of -invocation effective in forgotten ages. Quivering lightnings, like a -host of running stars, flashed marvellously about us, with bars of fire -that seemed to map all space, while there was a sense of prodigious -lifting in the heart as though some power like rushing wind drove will -and yearning to the summit of all possible achievement. I realised -simply this—that Nature’s powers and purposes became mine too.</p> - -<p>How long this lasted is impossible to state; duration disappeared. The -Universe, it seemed, had caught me up, joyful and unafraid, into her -bosom. It was too immense for little terrors.... And it was only after -what seemed an interminable interval that I became aware of something -that marred; of effort somewhere to confine and limit; of conflict, -in a word, as though some smaller force strove to impose an order -upon Powers that resented it. And I understood the meaning of this -too. Julius battled in his soul. He wrestled with the Energies he had -invoked, exerting to the utmost a trained, spiritual will to influence -their direction into himself, as expiatory channel. Julius, after the -lapse of centuries, fought to restore the balance he had long ago -disturbed.</p> - -<p><em>Her</em> voice, too, occasionally reached me with a sound as of wind that -rushed, but very far away. The words went past me with a heat like -flame. I caught fragments only ... “The King of Breath ... The Master -of the Diadems of Fire ... they seek to enter ... the channel of safe -return.... Oh, beware ... beware ...”</p> - -<p>And it was then I saw this wonderful thing happen, poignant with common -human drama, intensifying the reality of the whole amazing experience. -For she turned suddenly to him, her face alight and radiant. She would -not let him accept the awful risk. Her arms went out to hold him to -her. He drove her back.</p> - -<p>“I open wide the channel of my life and soul!” he cried, with a gesture -of the entire body that made it relaxed and unresisting. He stepped -backwards a little from her touch. “It must be through <em>me!</em>”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span></p> - -<p>And there was anguish in her tone that seemed to press all possible -human passion into the single sentence:</p> - -<p>“I, too, throw myself open! I cannot let you go from me!”</p> - -<p>He moved still further from her. It seemed to me he went at prodigious -speed, yet grew no smaller to the eye. The withdrawal belonged to some -part of his being that I was aware of inwardly. Streams of fire and -wind went with him. They followed. And I heard her voice in agonised -pursuit. She raised her hands as in supplication, but to whom or what I -knew not. She fought to prevent. She fought to offer herself instead.</p> - -<p>But also she offered the body as yet unclaimed—untenanted.</p> - -<p>“He who is in the Fire and in the Sun ... I call upon His power. I -offer myself!” I heard her cry.</p> - -<p>His answering voice seemed terrible:</p> - -<p>“The Law forbids. You hold Them back from me.” And then as from a -greater distance, the voice continued more faintly: “You prevent. It -has to be! Help me before it is too late; help me ... or ... I ... -fail!”</p> - -<p>Fail! I heard the awful word like thunder in the heavens.</p> - -<p>The conflict of their wills, the distress of it was terrible. At -this last moment she realised that the strain was more than he could -withstand—he would go from her in that separation which is the body’s -death. She saw it all; there was division in her will and energies. -Opposing herself to the justice he had invoked, she influenced the -invasion of the elemental Powers, offering herself as channel in the -hope of saving him. Her human desire weighed the balance—turning it -just against him. Her insight clouded with emotion. She increased the -risk for him, and at the same time left open to the great invading -Powers another channel—the line of least resistance, the empty vehicle -all prepared within herself.</p> - -<p>To me it was mercilessly clear. I tried to speak, but found no words to -utter; my tongue refused to frame a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span> single sound; nor could I move my -limbs. I heard Julius only, his voice calling like a distant storm.</p> - -<p>“I call upon the Fire and Wind to enter me, and pass to their eternal -home ... whence you and I ... and he ...”</p> - -<p>His voice fell curiously away into a gulf; there was weakness in it. I -saw her frail body shake from head to foot. She swayed as though about -to fall. And then her voice, strong as a bugle-call, rang out:</p> - -<p>“I claim it by—my <em>love</em>....!”</p> - -<p>There was a burst of wind, a rush of sheeted fire. Then darkness fell. -But in that instant before the fire passed, I saw his form stand close -before my eyes. The face, alight with compassion and resignation, was -turned towards her own. I saw the eyes; I saw the hands outstretched to -take her; the lips were parted in a final attempt at utterance which -never knew completion. And I knew—the certainty stopped the beating -of my heart—that he had failed. There was no actual sound. Like a -gleaming sword drawn swiftly from its scabbard, he rose past me through -the air, borne from his body, as it were, on wings of ascending flame. -There was a second of intolerable radiance, a rush of driving wind—and -he was gone.</p> - -<p>And far away, at the end of some stone corridor in the sunshine, yet -at the same time close beside me upon the floor of the little mountain -châlet, I heard the falling body as it dropped with a thud before my -feet—untenanted....</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span> -<h3><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h3> -</div> - - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">I remember</span> what followed very much as one remembers the confusion after -an anæsthetic—fragments of extraordinary dream and of sensational -experience jostling one another on the threshold of awakening. Then, -very swiftly, like a train of gorgeous colour disappearing into a -tunnel of darkness, the memory slipped down within me and was gone. The -Past with a rush of lightning swept back into its sheath.</p> - -<p>The glory and sense of exaltation, that is, were gone, but not the -memory that they had been. I knew what had happened, what I had felt, -seen, yearned for; but it was the cold facts alone remained, the -feelings that had accompanied them vanished. Into a dull, chilled world -I dropped back, wondering and terrified. A long interval had passed.</p> - -<p>And the first thing I realised was that Mrs. LeVallon still lay -sleeping in that chair of wicker—profoundly sleeping—that the lamp -had burned low, and that the châlet felt like ice. Her face, even in -the twilight, I saw was normal, the older expression gone. I turned the -wick up higher, noting as I did so that the paper strewn about me was -thick with writing, and it was then my half-dazed senses took in first -that Julius was not standing near us, and that a shadow, oddly shaped -and huddled, lay on the floor where the lamplight met the darkness.</p> - -<p>The moving portion seemed at once to disentangle itself from the rest, -and a face turned up to stare at me. It was the serving-man upon his -knees. The expression in his eyes did more to bring me to my normal -senses than anything else. That scared and anguished look made me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span> -understand the truth—that, and the moaning that from time to time -escaped his lips.</p> - -<p>Of speech from him I hardly got a word; he was inarticulate to the last -as ever, and all that I could learn was that he had felt his master’s -danger and had come....</p> - -<p>We carried the body upstairs and laid it on the bed. I strove to regard -it merely as the “instrument” <em>he</em> had used awhile, strove to find -still his real undying Presence close to me—but that comfort failed me -too. The face was very white. Upon the pale marble features lay still -that signature of “Other Places” which haunted his life and soul. We -closed the staring eyes and covered him with a sheet. And there the -servant crouched upon the floor for the remaining five hours until the -dawn, when I came up from watching that other figure of sleep in the -room below, and found him in the same position. All that day as well -he watched indeed, until at last I made him realise that the sooner he -got the farmer’s horse below and summoned a doctor, the better for all -concerned.</p> - -<p>But that was many hours later in the day, and meanwhile he just -crouched there, difficult of approach, eyeing me savagely almost when -I came, his eyes aflame with a kind of ugly, sullen resentment, but -faithful to the last. What the silent, devoted being had heard or seen -during our long hours of sinister struggle and experiment, I never -knew, nor ever shall know.</p> - -<p>My memory hardly lingers upon that; nor upon the unprofitable detail of -the doctor’s tardy arrival in the evening, his ill-concealed suspicion -and eventual granting of a death certificate according to Swiss law; -nor, again, upon his obvious verdict of a violent heart-stroke, or the -course of procedure that he bade us follow.</p> - -<p>Even the distressing details of the burial have somewhat faded, and I -recall chiefly the fact that the Man established himself in the village -where the churchyard was and began his watch that kept him near the -grave, I believe, till death relieved him. My memory lingers rather -upon the hours that I watched beside the sleeping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span> woman, and upon the -dreadful scene of her awakening and discovery of the truth.</p> - -<p>For hours we had the darkness and the silence to ourselves, a silence -broken only by the steady breathing of her slumber. I dared not wake -her; knowing that the trance condition in time exhausts itself and -the subject returns to normal waking consciousness without effort or -distress, I let her slumber on, dreading the moment when the eyes would -open and she must question me. The cold increased with the early hours -of the morning, and I spread a rug about her stretched-out form. Slowly -with the failing of the oil, the little lamp flame flickered and died, -then finally went out, leaving us in the chill gloom together. All heat -had long since left the fire of peat.</p> - -<p>It was a vigil never to be forgotten. My thoughts revolved the whole -time in one and the same circle, seeking in vain support from common -things. Slowly and by degrees my mind found steadiness, though with -returning balance my pain grew keener and more searching. The poignant -minutes stretched to days and years. For ever I fell to reconstructing -those vanished scenes of memory, while striving to believe that the -whole thing had been but a detailed vivid dream, and that presently -I, too, should awake to find our life in the châlet as before, Julius -still alive and close....</p> - -<p>The moaning from the room overhead, where the Man watched over that -other, final sleep, then brought bitterly again the sad reality, and -set my thoughts whirling afresh with anguish. I was distraught and -trembling.... London and my lectures, the recent climbing in the -Dolomites, cities and trains and the business of daily modern life, -these were the dreams.... The reality, truth, lay in that world of -vision just departed ... Concerighé, Silvatela, the woman of that -ancient, splendid past, the re-capture of the Temple Days when we three -trod together that strange path of questing; the broken fragment of -it all; the Chamber of the Vacated Bodies, and the sin of long ago; -then, chief of all, the attempt to banish the Powers, evoked in those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span> -distant ages, back to their eternal home—<em>his</em> effort to offer himself -as channel—<em>her</em> fear to lose him and her offering of herself—the -failure ... and that appalling result upstairs.</p> - -<p>For, ever and again, my thoughts returned to that: the spirit of the -chief transgressor hovering now without a body, waiting for the River -of the Lives to bring in some dim future another opportunity for -atonement.</p> - -<p>The failure...! In the glimmer of that pale, cold dawn I watched the -outline of her slumbering form. I remembered her cry of sacrificing -love that drew the great rushing Powers down into herself, and thus -into the unresisting little body gathered now in growth against her -heart. That human love the world deems great, seeking to save him -to her own distress, had only blocked the progress of his soul she -yearned to protect, so little understanding.... I heard her deep-drawn -breathing in the darkness and wondered ... for the child that she would -bear ... come to our modern strife and worldly things with this freight -of elemental forces linked about his human heart and mind—fierce child -of Wind and Fire...! A “natural,” perhaps a “super-natural” being....</p> - -<p>This sense of woe and passion, haunting my long, silent vigil from -night to dawn, and after it when the sunshine of the September morning -lit the room and turned her face to silver—this it is that, after so -many years, clings to the memory as though of yesterday.</p> - -<p>And then, without a sign or movement to prepare me, I saw that the eyes -had opened and were fixed upon my face.</p> - -<p>The whispered words came instantly:</p> - -<p>“Where is he? Has he gone away?”</p> - -<p>Stupid with distress and pain, my heart was choked. I stared blankly in -return, the channels of speech too blocked to find a single syllable.</p> - -<p>I raised my hands, though hardly knowing what I meant to do. She sat -up in the chair and looked a moment swiftly about the room. Her lips -parted for another question, but it did not come. I think in my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span> face, -or in my gesture perhaps, she read the message of despair. She hid her -face behind her hands, leaned back with a dreadful drooping of the -entire frame, and let a sigh escape her that held the substance of all -unutterable words of grief.</p> - -<p>I yearned to help, but it was my silence, of course, that brought the -truth so swiftly home to her returning consciousness. The awakening -was complete and rapid, not as out of common sleep. I longed to touch -and comfort her, yet my muscles refused to yield in any action I could -manage, and my tongue clung dry against the roof of my mouth.</p> - -<p>Then, presently, between her fingers came the words below a whisper:</p> - -<p>“I knew that this would happen ... I knew that once I slept, he’d go -from me ... and I should lose him. I tried ... that hard ... to keep -awake.... But sleep <em>would</em> take me. An’ now ... it’s took him ... too. -He’s gone for—for very long ... again!” She did not say “for ever.”</p> - -<p>It was the voice, the accent and the words again of Mrs. LeVallon.</p> - -<p>“Not for ever,” I whispered, “but for a little time.”</p> - -<p>She rose up like a figure of white death, taking my hand. She did not -tremble, and her step was firm. And more than this I never heard her -say, for the entire contents of the interval since she first fell -asleep beneath her husband’s passes had gone beyond recall.</p> - -<p>“Take me to him,” she said gently. “I want to say good-bye.”</p> - -<p>I led her up those creaking wooden stairs and left her with her dead.</p> - -<p>Her strength was wonderful. I can never forget the quiet self-control -she showed through all the wretched details that the situation then -entailed. She asked no questions, shed no tears, moving brave and calm -through all the ghastly duties. Something in her that lay deeper than -death understood, and with the resignation of a truly great heart, -accepted. Far stronger than myself she was; and, indeed, it seemed -that my pain for her—at the time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span> anyhow—absorbed the suffering -that made my own heart ache with a sense of loss that has ever since -left me empty and bereaved. Only in her eyes was there betrayal of -sorrow that was itself, perhaps, another half revival of yet dimmer -memories ... “eyes in which desire of some strange thing unutterably -burned, unquenchable....” For the first time I understood the truth of -another’s words—so like a statue was her appearance, so set in stone, -her words so sparing and her voice so dead:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="verse"> -<div class="line outdent">“<em>I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>That only men incredulous of despair,</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Half taught in anguish, through the midnight air</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness</em></div> -<div class="line"><em>In souls as countries lieth silent-bare....</em>”</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Her soul lay silent-bare; her grief was hopeless.... To my shame it -must be confessed that I longed to escape from all the strain and -nightmare of what had passed. The few days had been charged with -material for a lifetime. I knew the sharp desire to find myself in -touch once more with common, wholesome things—with London noise and -bustle, trains, telephones and daily newspapers, with stupid students -who could not even remember what they had learned the previous -week, and with all the great majority who never even dreamed of a -consciousness less restricted than their own. I saw the matter through, -however, to the bitter end, and did not lose sight of Mrs. LeVallon -until I left her safely in Lausanne, and helped her find a woman who -should be both maid and companion, at least for the immediate future. -It cannot be of interest or value to relate here. She did not cross my -path again; while, on the other hand, it has never been possible for -me to forget her. To this day I hear her voice and accent, I feel the -touch of that hand that drew me softly into such depths of inexplicable -vision; above all, I see her luminous, strange eyes and her movements -of strange grace across the châlet floor.... And sometimes, even now, I -half ... remember.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span></p> - -<p>Yet never, till after this long interval of years, could I bring myself -to set down any record of what had happened. Perhaps—most probably, I -think—I feared that dwelling upon the haunting details that writing -would involve might revive too obsessingly the memory of an experience -so curiously overwhelming.</p> - -<p>Now time has brought the necessity, as it were, of this confession; -and I have done my best with material that really resists the mould of -language, at least as I can use it. Later reading—for I devoured the -best authorities and ransacked even the most extravagant records in -my quest—has come to throw a little curious light upon some parts of -it; and the results of this subsequent study no doubt appear in this -report. At the time, however, I was ignorant of all such things, and -the effect upon me of what I witnessed thus for the first time may be -judged accordingly. It was dislocating.</p> - -<p>Two facts alone remain to mention. And the first seems to me perhaps -the most singular of the entire experience. For the pages I had covered -with writing showed suddenly an abrupt and extraordinary change of -script. Although the earlier sheets were in my own handwriting, roughly -jotting down question and reply as they fell from the lips of Julius -or his wife, there came midway in them this inexplicable change that -altered them into the illegible scribble of a language that I could not -read, yet recognised. It changed into that curious kind of ideograph -that Julius used at school, that he showed me many a time in the sand -at the end of the football field where we used to lie and talk, and -that he claimed then was the ancient sacerdotal cipher we had used -together in our remotest “Temple Days.” I cannot read a word of it, nor -can any to whom I have shown it decipher a single outline. The change -began, it seems, at the point where “Mrs. LeVallon” went “deeper” at -his word of command, and entered the layer of memories that dealt with -that most ancient “section.” This accounts, too, for the confusion -and incompleteness of my record as written. A page of this script is -framed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span> upon my walls to-day; my eye rests on it as I write these words -upon a modern typewriter—in Streatham.</p> - -<p>The other fact I have to mention might well be the starting point for -study and observation of an interesting kind. Yet, though it sorely -tempted me, I resisted the temptation, and now, after twenty years, -it is too late, and I, too old. This record, if published, may fall -beneath the eye of someone to whom the chance and the desire may -possibly combine to bring the opportunity.</p> - -<p>For some weeks after the events that have been here described, Mrs. -LeVallon gave birth to a boy, surviving him, alas! by but a single day.</p> - -<p>This I heard long afterwards by the merest chance. But my strenuous -efforts to trace the child proved unavailing, and I only learned that -he was adopted by a French family whose name even was not given to me. -If alive he would be now about twenty years of age.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="center smcap">Printed by Cassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage, London, -E.C.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -</div> -<div class="tn"> -<p class="center p150">Transcriber’s Note:</p> - -<p class="noi">Variations in hyphenations have been retained as they appear -in the original publication. Changes have been made as follows:</p> - -<ul class="nobullet"> - <li>Page 26</li> - <li> - <ul> - <li>euclid, mathematics, and the dead languages <em>changed to</em><br /> - <a href="#Euclid">Euclid</a>, mathematics, and the dead languages</li> - </ul> - </li> - <li>Page 36</li> - <li> - <ul> - <li>the coming of a—third <em>changed to</em><br /> - the coming of a—<a href="#stop">third.</a></li> - </ul> - </li> - <li>Page 178</li> - <li> - <ul> - <li>by surprise, as it were.” <em>changed to</em><br /> - by surprise, as it <a href="#quote">were.</a></li> - </ul> - </li> - <li>Page 271</li> - <li> - <ul> - <li>Le Vallon’s personality and <em>changed to</em><br /> - <a href="#LeVallon">LeVallon’s</a> personality and</li> - </ul> - </li> -</ul> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Julius LeVallon, by Algernon Blackwood - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIUS LEVALLON *** - -***** This file should be named 50107-h.htm or 50107-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/1/0/50107/ - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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