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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..5971543 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68771 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68771) diff --git a/old/68771-0.txt b/old/68771-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5b28c08..0000000 --- a/old/68771-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16073 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The soul of Lilith, by Marie Corelli - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The soul of Lilith - -Author: Marie Corelli - -Release Date: August 16, 2022 [eBook #68771] - -Language: English - -Produced by: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF LILITH *** - - - - - - THE SOUL OF LILITH - - BY - MARIE CORELLI - - “NOT A DROP OF HER BLOOD WAS HUMAN, - BUT SHE WAS MADE LIKE A SOFT SWEET WOMAN” - DANTE G. ROSSETTI - - TWELFTH EDITION - - METHUEN & CO. - 36 ESSEX STREET, W.C. - LONDON - 1903 - _Colonial Library_ - - - - - CONTENTS. - - Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV - Chapter V - Chapter VI - Chapter VII - Chapter VIII - Chapter IX - Chapter X - Chapter XI - Chapter XII - Chapter XIII - Chapter XIV - Chapter XV - Chapter XVI - Chapter XVII - Chapter XVIII - Chapter XIX - Chapter XX - Chapter XXI - Chapter XXII - Chapter XXIII - Chapter XXIV - Chapter XXV - Chapter XXVI - Chapter XXVII - Chapter XXVIII - Chapter XXIX - Chapter XXX - Chapter XXXI - Chapter XXXII - Chapter XXXIII - Chapter XXXIV - Chapter XXXV - Chapter XXXVI - Chapter XXXVII - Chapter XXXVIII - Chapter XXXIX - Chapter XL - Chapter XLI - Chapter XLII - Chapter XLIII - Chapter XLIV - Footnotes - - - - - INTRODUCTORY NOTE. - -The following story does not assume to be what is generally -understood by a “novel.” It is simply the account of a strange and -daring experiment once actually attempted, and is offered to those who -are interested in the unseen “possibilities” of the Hereafter, merely -for what it is,--a single episode in the life of a man who voluntarily -sacrificed his whole worldly career in a supreme effort to prove the -apparently Unprovable. - - - - - THE SOUL OF LILITH. - - I. - -The theatre was full,--crowded from floor to ceiling; the lights -were turned low to give the stage full prominence,--and a large -audience packed close in pit and gallery as well as in balcony and -stalls, listened with or without interest, whichever way best suited -their different temperaments and manner of breeding, to the well-worn -famous soliloquy in _Hamlet_--“To be or not to be.” It was the first -night of a new rendering of Shakespeare’s ever puzzling play,--the -chief actor was a great actor, albeit not admitted as such by the -petty cliques,--he had thought out the strange and complex character -of the psychological Dane for himself, with the result that even the -listless, languid, generally impassive occupants of the stalls, many -of whom had no doubt heard a hundred Hamlets, were roused for once out -of their chronic state of boredom into something like attention, as -the familiar lines fell on their ears with a slow and meditative -richness of accent not commonly heard on the modern stage. This new -Hamlet chose his attitudes well; instead of walking, or rather -strutting about, as he uttered the soliloquy, he seated himself and -for a moment seemed lost in silent thought;--then, without changing -his position he began, his voice gathering deeper earnestness as the -beauty and solemnity of the immortal lines became more pronounced and -concentrated. - - “To die--to sleep;-- - To sleep!--perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub, - For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, - When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, - Must give us pause. ...” - -Here there was a brief and impressive silence. In that short interval, -and before the actor could resume his speech, a man entered the -theatre with noiseless step, and seated himself in a vacant stall of -the second row. A few heads were instinctively turned to look at him, -but in the semi-gloom of the auditorium his features could scarcely be -discerned, and Hamlet’s sad rich voice again compelled attention. - - “Who would fardels bear, - To grunt and sweat under a weary life, - But that the dread of something after death, - The undiscovered country from whose bourne - No traveller returns, puzzles the will, - And makes us rather bear those ills we have - Than fly to others that we know not of? - Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; - And thus the native hue of resolution - Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought; - And enterprises of great pith and moment, - With this regard, their currents turn awry - And lose the name of action.” - -The scene went on to the despairing interview with Ophelia, which was -throughout performed with such splendid force and feeling as to awaken -a perfect hurricane of applause;--then the curtain went down, the -lights went up, the orchestra recommenced, and again inquisitive eyes -were turned towards the latest new-comer in the stalls who had made -his quiet entrance in the very midst of the great philosophical -soliloquy. He was immediately discovered to be a person well worth -observing; and observed he was accordingly, though he seemed quite -unaware of the attention he was attracting. Yet he was -singular-looking enough to excite a little curiosity even among modern -fashionable Londoners, who are accustomed to see all sorts of -eccentric beings, both male and female, æsthetic and commonplace; and -he was so distinctly separated from ordinary folk by his features and -bearing, that the rather loud whisper of an irrepressible young -American woman, “I’d give worlds to know who that man is!” was almost -pardonable under the circumstances. His skin was dark as a -mulatto’s,--yet smooth, and healthily coloured by the warm blood -flushing through the olive tint,--his eyes seemed black, but could -scarcely be seen on account of the extreme length and thickness of -their dark lashes,--the fine, rather scornful curve of his short upper -lip was partially hidden by a black moustache; and with all this -blackness and darkness about his face his hair, of which he seemed to -have an extraordinary profusion, was perfectly white. Not merely a -silvery white, but a white as pronounced as that of a bit of washed -fleece or newly-fallen snow. In looking at him it was impossible to -decide whether he was old or young,--because, though he carried no -wrinkles or other defacing marks of Time’s power to destroy, his -features wore an impress of such stern and deeply-resolved thought as -is seldom or never the heritage of those to whom youth still belongs. -Nevertheless, he seemed a long way off from being old,--so that, -altogether, he was a puzzle to his neighbours in the stalls, as well -as to certain fair women in the boxes, who levelled their -opera-glasses at him with a pertinacity which might have made him -uncomfortably self-conscious had he looked up. Only he did not look -up; he leaned back in his seat with a slightly listless air, studied -his programme intently, and appeared half asleep, owing to the way in -which his eyelids drooped, and the drowsy sweep of his lashes. The -irrepressible American girl almost forgot _Hamlet_, so absorbed was -she in staring at him, in spite of the _sotto-voce_ remonstrances of -her decorous mother, who sat beside her,--and presently, as if aware -of, or annoyed by, her scrutiny, he lifted his eyes, and looked full -at her. With an instinctive movement she recoiled,--and her own eyes -fell. Never in all her giddy, thoughtless little life had she seen -such fiery, brilliant, night-black orbs,--they made her feel -uncomfortable,--gave her the “creeps,” as she afterwards -declared;--she shivered, drawing her satin opera-wrap more closely -about her, and stared at the stranger no more. He soon removed his -piercing gaze from her to the stage, for the now great “Play scene” of -_Hamlet_ was in progress, and was from first to last a triumph for the -actor chiefly concerned. At the next fall of the curtain, a fair -dissipated-looking young fellow leaned over from the third row of -stalls, and touched the white-haired individual lightly on the -shoulder. - -“My dear El-Râmi! You here? At a theatre? Why, I should never have -thought you capable of indulging in such frivolity!” - -“Do you consider _Hamlet_ frivolous?” queried the other, rising from -his seat to shake hands, and showing himself to be a man of medium -height, though having such peculiar dignity of carriage as made him -appear taller than he really was. - -“Well, no!”--and the young man yawned rather effusively, “To tell you -the truth, I find him insufferably dull.” - -“You do?” and the person addressed as El-Râmi smiled slightly. -“Well,--naturally you go with the opinions of your age. You would no -doubt prefer a burlesque?” - -“Frankly speaking, I should! And now I begin to think of it, I don’t -know really why I came here. I had intended to look in at the -Empire--there’s a new ballet going on there--but a fellow at the club -gave me this stall, said it was a ‘first-night,’ and all the rest of -it--and so----” - -“And so fate decided for you,” finished El-Râmi sedately. “And -instead of admiring the pretty ladies without proper clothing at the -Empire, you find yourself here, wondering why the deuce Hamlet the -Dane could not find anything better to do than bother himself about -his father’s ghost! Exactly! But, being here, you are here for a -purpose, my friend;” and he lowered his voice to a confidential -whisper. “Look!--Over there--observe her well!--sits your future -wife;” and he indicated, by the slightest possible nod, the American -girl before alluded to. “Yes,--the pretty creature in pink, with dark -hair. You don’t know her? No, of course you don’t--but you will. She -will be introduced to you to-night before you leave this theatre. -Don’t look so startled--there’s nothing miraculous about her, I assure -you! She is merely Miss Chester, only daughter of Jabez Chester, the -latest New York millionaire. A charmingly shallow, delightfully -useless, but enormously wealthy little person!--you will propose to -her within a month, and you will be accepted. A very good match for -you, Vaughan--all your debts paid, and everything set straight with -certain Jews. Nothing could be better, really--and, remember,--I am -the first to congratulate you!” - -He spoke rapidly, with a smiling, easy air of conviction; his friend -meanwhile stared at him in profound amazement and something of fear. - -“By Jove, El-Râmi!”--he began nervously--“you know, this is a little -too much of a good thing. It’s all very well to play prophet -sometimes, but it can be overdone.” - -“Pardon!” and El-Râmi turned to resume his seat. “The play begins -again. Insufferably dull as Hamlet may be, we are bound to give him -some slight measure of attention.” - -Vaughan forced a careless smile in response, and threw himself -indolently back in his own stall, but he looked annoyed and puzzled. -His eyes wandered from the back of El-Râmi’s white head to the -half-seen profile of the American heiress who had just been so coolly -and convincingly pointed out to him as his future wife. - -“I don’t know the girl from Adam,”--he thought irritably, “and I don’t -want to know her. In fact, I won’t know her. And if I won’t, why, I -sha’n’t know her. Will is everything, even according to El-Râmi. The -fellow’s always so confoundedly positive of his prophecies. I should -like to confute him for once and prove him wrong.” - -Thus he mused, scarcely heeding the progress of Shakespeare’s great -tragedy, till, at the close of the scene of Ophelia’s burial, he saw -El-Râmi rise and prepare to leave the auditorium. He at once rose -himself. - -“Are you going?” he asked. - -“Yes;--I do not care for Hamlet’s end, or for anybody’s end in this -particular play. I don’t like the hasty and wholesale slaughter that -concludes the piece. It is inartistic.” - -“Shakespeare inartistic?” queried Vaughan, smiling. - -“Why, yes, sometimes. He was a man, not a god;--and no man’s work can -be absolutely perfect. Shakespeare had his faults like everybody else, -and with his great genius he would have been the first to own them. It -is only your little mediocrities who are never wrong. Are you going -also?” - -“Yes; I mean to damage your reputation as a prophet, and avoid the -chance of an introduction to Miss Chester--for this evening, at any -rate.” - -He laughed as he spoke, but El-Râmi said nothing. The two passed out -of the stalls together into the lobby, where they had to wait a few -minutes to get their hats and overcoats, the man in charge of the -cloak-room having gone to cool his chronic thirst at the convenient -“bar.” Vaughan made use of the enforced delay to light his cigar. - -“Did you think it a good _Hamlet_?” he asked his companion carelessly -while thus occupied. - -“Excellent,” replied El-Râmi. “The leading actor has immense talent, -and thoroughly appreciates the subtlety of the part he has to -play;--but his supporters are all sticks,--hence the scenes drag where -he himself is not in them. That is the worst of the ‘star’ system,--a -system which is perfectly ruinous to histrionic art. Still--no matter -how it is performed, _Hamlet_ is always interesting. Curiously -inconsistent, too, but impressive.” - -“Inconsistent? How?” asked Vaughan, beginning to puff rings of smoke -into the air, and to wonder impatiently how much longer the keeper of -the cloak-room meant to stay absent from his post. - -“Oh, in many ways. Perhaps the most glaring inconsistency of the whole -conception comes out in the great soliloquy, ‘To be or not to be.’” - -“Really?” and Vaughan became interested. “I thought that was -considered one of the finest bits in the play.” - -“So it is. I am not speaking of the lines themselves, which are -magnificent, but of their connection with Hamlet’s own character. Why -does he talk of a ‘bourne from whence no traveller returns,’ when he -has, or thinks he has, proof positive of the return of his own father -in spiritual form;--and it is just concerning that return that he -makes all the pother? Don’t you see inconsistency there?” - -“Of course,--but I never thought of it,” said Vaughan, staring. “I -don’t believe any one but yourself has ever thought of it. It is quite -unaccountable. He certainly does say ‘no traveller returns,’--and he -says it after he has seen the ghost too.” - -“Yes,” went on El-Râmi, warming with his subject. “And he talks of -the ‘dread of something after death,’ as if it were only a ‘dread,’ -and not a fact;--whereas if he is to believe the spirit of his own -father, which he declares is ‘an honest ghost,’ there is no -possibility of doubt on the matter. Does not the mournful phantom -say-- - - “‘But that I am forbid - To tell the secrets of my prison-house, - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word - Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; - Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres; - Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part, - And each particular hair to stand on end. ...’?” - -“By Jove! I say, El-Râmi, don’t look at me like that!” exclaimed -Vaughan uneasily, backing away from a too close proximity to the -brilliant flashing eyes and absorbed face of his companion, who had -recited the lines with extraordinary passion and solemnity. - -El-Râmi laughed. - -“Did I scare you? Was I too much in earnest? I beg your pardon! True -enough,--‘this eternal blazon must not be, to ears of flesh and -blood!’ But, the ‘something after death’ was a peculiarly aggravating -reality to that poor ghost, and Hamlet knew that it was so when he -spoke of it as a mere ‘dread.’ Thus, as I say, he was inconsistent, -or, rather, Shakespeare did not argue the case logically.” - -“You would make a capital actor,”--said Vaughan, still gazing at him -in astonishment. “Why, you went on just now as if,--well, as if you -meant it, you know.” - -“So I did mean it,” replied El-Râmi lightly--“for the moment! I -always find _Hamlet_ a rather absorbing study; so will you, perhaps, -when you are my age.” - -“Your age?” and Vaughan shrugged his shoulders. “I wish I knew it! -Why, nobody knows it. You may be thirty or a hundred--who can tell?” - -“Or two hundred--or even three hundred?” queried El-Râmi, with a -touch of satire in his tone;--“Why stint the measure of limitless -time? But here comes our recalcitrant knave”--this, as the keeper of -the cloak-room made his appearance from a side-door with a perfectly -easy and unembarrassed air, as though he had done rather a fine thing -than otherwise in keeping two gentlemen waiting his pleasure. “Let us -get our coats, and be well away before the decree of Fate can be -accomplished in making you the winner of the desirable Chester prize. -It is delightful to conquer Fate--if one can!” - -His black eyes flashed curiously, and Vaughan paused in the act of -throwing on his overcoat to look at him again in something of doubt -and dread. - -At that moment a gay voice exclaimed: - -“Why, here’s Vaughan!--Freddie Vaughan--how lucky!” and a big handsome -man of about two or three and thirty sauntered into the lobby from the -theatre, followed by two ladies. “Look here, Vaughan, you’re just the -fellow I wanted to see. We’ve left Hamlet in the thick of his fight, -because we’re going on to the Somers’s ball,--will you come with us? -And I say, Vaughan, allow me to introduce to you my friends--Mrs. -Jabez Chester, Miss Idina Chester--Sir Frederick Vaughan.” - -For one instant Vaughan stood inert and stupefied; the next he -remembered himself, and bowed mechanically. His presentation to the -Chesters was thus suddenly effected by his cousin, Lord Melthorpe, to -whom he was indebted for many favours, and whom he could not afford to -offend by any show of _brusquerie_. As soon as the necessary -salutations were exchanged, however, he looked round vaguely, and in a -sort of superstitious terror, for the man who had so surely prophesied -this introduction. But El-Râmi was gone. Silently and without adieu -he had departed, having seen his word fulfilled. - - - - - II. - -“Who is the gentleman that has just left you?” asked Miss Chester, -smiling prettily up into Vaughan’s eyes, as she accepted his proffered -arm to lead her to her carriage,--“Such a distinguished-looking -dreadful person!” - -Vaughan smiled at this description. - -“He is certainly rather singular in personal appearance,” he began, -when his cousin, Lord Melthorpe, interrupted him. - -“You mean El-Râmi? It was El-Râmi, wasn’t it? Ah, I thought so. Why -did he give us the slip, I wonder? I wish he had waited a minute--he -is a most interesting fellow.” - -“But who is he?” persisted Miss Chester. She was now comfortably -ensconced in her luxurious brougham, her mother beside her, and two -men of “title” opposite to her--a position which exactly suited the -aspirations of her soul. “How very tiresome you both are! You don’t -explain him a bit; you only say he is ‘interesting,’ and of course one -can see that; people with such white hair and such black eyes are -always interesting, don’t you think so?” - -“Well, I don’t see why they should be,” said Lord Melthorpe dubiously. -“Now, just think what horrible chaps Albinos are, and they have white -hair and pink eyes----” - -“Oh, don’t drift off on the subject of Albinos, please!” pleaded Miss -Chester, with a soft laugh. “If you do, I shall never know anything -about this particular person--El-Râmi, did you say? Isn’t it a very -odd name? Eastern, of course?” - -“Oh yes! he is a pure Oriental thoroughbred,” replied Lord Melthorpe, -who took the burden of the conversation upon himself, while he -inwardly wondered why his cousin Vaughan was in such an evidently -taciturn mood. “That is, I mean, he is an Oriental of the very old -stock, not one of the modern Indian mixtures of vice and knavery. But -when he came from the East, and why he came from the East, I don’t -suppose any one could tell you. I have only met him two or three times -in society, and on those occasions he managed to perplex and fascinate -a good many people. My wife, for instance, thinks him quite a -marvellous man; she always asks him to her parties, but he hardly ever -comes. His name in full is El-Râmi-Zarânos, though I believe he is -best known as El-Râmi simply.” - -“And what is he?” asked Miss Chester. “An artist?--A literary -celebrity?” - -“Neither, that I am aware of. Indeed, I don’t know what he is, or how -he lives. I have always looked upon him as a sort of magician--a kind -of private conjurer, you know.” - -“Dear me!” said fat Mrs. Chester, waking up from a semi-doze, and -trying to get interested in the subject. “Does he do drawing-room -tricks?” - -“Oh no, he doesn’t do tricks;” and Lord Melthorpe looked a little -amused. “He isn’t that sort of man at all; I’m afraid I explain myself -badly. I mean that he can tell you extraordinary things about your -past and future----” - -“Oh, by your hand--_I_ know!” and the pretty Idina nodded her head -sagaciously. “There really is something awfully clever in palmistry. -_I_ can tell fortunes that way!” - -“Can you?” Lord Melthorpe smiled indulgently, and went on,--“But it so -happens that El-Râmi does not tell anything by the hands,--he judges -by the face, figure, and movement. He doesn’t make a profession of it; -but, really, he does foretell events in rather a curious way now and -then.” - -“He certainly does!” agreed Vaughan, rousing himself from a reverie -into which he had fallen, and fixing his eyes on the small _piquante_ -features of the girl opposite him. “Some of his prophecies are quite -remarkable.” - -“Really! How very delightful!” said Miss Chester, who was fully aware -of Sir Frederick’s intent, almost searching, gaze, but pretended to be -absorbed in buttoning one of her gloves. “I must ask him to tell me -what sort of fate is in store for me--something awful, I’m positive! -Don’t you think he has horrid eyes?--splendid, but horrid? He looked -at me in the theatre----” - -“My dear, you looked at him first,” murmured Mrs. Chester. - -“Yes; but I’m sure I didn’t make him shiver. Now, when he looked at -me, I felt as if some one were pouring cold water very slowly down my -back. It was _such_ a creepy sensation! Do fasten this, mother--will -you?” and she extended the hand with the refractory glove upon it to -Mrs. Chester, but Vaughan promptly interposed: - -“Allow me!” - -“Oh, well! if you know how to fix a button that is almost off!” she -said laughingly, with a blush that well became her transparent skin. - -“I can make an attempt,”--said Vaughan, with due humility. “If I -succeed will you give me one or two dances presently?” - -“With pleasure!” - -“Oh! you _are_ coming in to the Somers’s, then?” said Lord Melthorpe, -in a pleased tone. “That’s right. You know, Fred, you’re so -absent-minded to-night that you never said ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ when I asked -you to accompany us.” - -“Didn’t I? I’m awfully sorry!” and, having fastened the glove with -careful daintiness, he smiled. “Please set down my rudeness and -distraction to the uncanny influence of El-Râmi; I can’t imagine any -other reason.” - -They all laughed carelessly, as people in an idle humour laugh at -trifles, and the carriage bore them on to their destination--a great -house in Queen’s Gate, where a magnificent entertainment was being -held in honour of some serene and exalted foreign potentate who had -taken it into his head to see how London amused itself during a -“season.” The foreign potentate had heard that the splendid English -capital was full of gloom and misery--that its women were -unapproachable, and its men difficult to make friends with; and all -these erroneous notions had to be dispersed in his serene and exalted -brain, no matter what his education cost the “Upper Ten” who undertook -to enlighten his barbarian ignorance. - -Meanwhile, the subject of Lord Melthorpe’s conversation--El-Râmi, or -El-Râmi-Zarânos, as he was called by those of his own race--was -walking quietly homewards with that firm, swift, yet apparently -unhasting pace which so often distinguishes the desert-born savage, -and so seldom gives grace to the deportment of the cultured citizen. -It was a mild night in May; the weather was unusually fine and warm; -the skies were undarkened by any mist or cloud, and the stars shone -forth with as much brilliancy as though the city lying under their -immediate ken had been the smiling fairy Florence, instead of the -brooding giant London. Now and again El-Râmi raised his eyes to the -sparkling belt of Orion, which glittered aloft with a lustre that is -seldom seen in the hazy English air;--he was thinking his own -thoughts, and the fact that there were many passers to and fro in the -streets besides himself did not appear to disturb him in the least, -for he strode through their ranks without any hurry or jostling, as if -he alone existed, and they were but shadows. - -“What fools are the majority of men!” he mused. “How easy to gull -them, and how willing they are to be gulled! How that silly young -Vaughan marvelled at my prophecy of his marriage!--as if it were not -as easy to foretell as that two and two inevitably make four! Given -the characters of people in the same way that you give figures, and -you are certain to arrive at a sum-total of them in time. How simple -the process of calculation as to Vaughan’s matrimonial prospects! Here -are the set of numerals I employed: Two nights ago I heard Lord -Melthorpe say he meant to marry his cousin Fred to Miss Chester, -daughter of Jabez Chester of New York. Miss Chester herself entered -the room a few minutes later on, and I saw the sort of young woman she -was. To-night at the theatre I see her again;--in an opposite box, -well back in shadow, I perceive Lord Melthorpe. Young Vaughan, whose -character I know to be of such weakness that it can be moulded -whichever way a stronger will turns it, sits close behind me; and I -proceed to make the little sum-total. Given Lord Melthorpe, with a -determination that resembles the obstinacy of a pig rather than of a -man; Frederick Vaughan, with no determination at all; and the little -Chester girl, with her heart set on an English title, even though it -only be that of a baronet, and the marriage is certain. What was -_un_certain was the possibility of their all meeting to-night; but -they were all there, and I counted that possibility as the fraction -over,--there is always a fraction over in character-sums; it stands as -Providence or Fate, and must always be allowed for. I chanced it, and -won. I always do win in these things,--these ridiculous trifles of -calculation, which are actually accepted as prophetic utterances by -people who never will think out anything for themselves. Good heavens! -what a monster-burden of crass ignorance and wilful stupidity this -poor planet has groaned under ever since it was hurled into space! -Immense!--incalculable! And for what purpose? For what progress? For -what end?” - -He stopped a moment; he had walked from the Strand up through -Piccadilly, and was now close to Hyde Park. Taking out his watch, he -glanced at the time--it was close upon midnight. All at once he was -struck fiercely from behind, and the watch he held was snatched from -his hand by a man who had no sooner committed the theft than he -uttered a loud cry, and remained inert and motionless. El-Râmi turned -quietly round and surveyed him. - -“Well, my friend?” he inquired blandly--“What did you do that for?” - -The fellow stared about him vaguely, but seemed unable to answer,--his -arm was stiffly outstretched, and the watch was clutched fast within -his palm. - -“You had better give that little piece of property back to me,” went -on El-Râmi, coldly smiling,--and, stepping close up to his assailant, -he undid the closed fingers one by one, and, removing the watch, -restored it to his own pocket. The thief’s arm at the same moment fell -limply at his side; but he remained where he was, trembling violently -as though seized with a sudden ague-fit. - -“You would find it an inconvenient thing to have about you, I assure -you. Stolen goods are always more or less of a bore, I believe. You -seem rather discomposed? Ah! you have had a little shock, that’s all. -You’ve heard of torpedoes, I dare say? Well, in this scientific age of -ours, there are human torpedoes going about; and I am one of them. It -is necessary to be careful whom you touch nowadays,--it really is, you -know! You will be better presently--take time!” - -He spoke banteringly, observing the thief meanwhile with the most -curious air, as though he were some peculiar specimen of beetle or -frog. The wretched man’s features worked convulsively, and he made a -gesture of appeal: - -“You won’t ’ave me took up?” he muttered hoarsely, “I’m starvin’!” - -“No, no!” said El-Râmi persuasively--“you are nothing of the sort. Do -not tell lies, my friend; that is a great mistake--as great a mistake -as thieving. Both things, as you practise them, will put you to no end -of trouble,--and to avoid trouble is the chief aim of modern life. You -are not starving--you are as plump as a rabbit,”--and, with a -dexterous touch, he threw up the man’s loose shirt-sleeve, and -displayed the full, firm flesh of the strong and sinewy arm beneath. -“You have had more meat in you to-day than I can manage in a week; you -will do very well. You are a professional thief,--a sort of--lawyer, -shall we say? Only, instead of protesting the right you have to live, -politely by means of documents and red tape, you assert it roughly by -stealing a watch. It’s very frank conduct,--but it is not civil; and, -in the present state of ethics, it doesn’t pay--it really doesn’t. I’m -afraid I’m boring you! You feel better? Then--good evening!” - -He was about to resume his walk, when the now recovered rough took a -hasty step towards him. - -“I wanted to knock ye down!” he began. - -“I know you did,”--returned El-Râmi composedly. “Well--would you like -to try again?” - -The man stared at him, half in amazement, half in fear. - -“Ye see,” he went on, “ye pulled out yer watch, and it was all jools -and sparkles----” - -“And it was a glittering temptation”--finished El-Râmi. “I see! I had -no business to pull it out; I grant it; but, being pulled out, you had -no business to want it. We were both wrong; let us both endeavour to -be wiser in future. Good-night!” - -“Well, I’m blowed if yer not a rum un, and an orful un!” ejaculated -the man, who had certainly received a fright, and was still nervous -from the effects of it. “Blowed if he ain’t the rummest card!” - -But the “rummest card” heard none of these observations. He crossed -the road, and went on his way serenely, taking up the thread of his -interrupted musings as though nothing had occurred. - -“Fools--fools all!” he murmured. “Thieves steal, murderers slay, -labourers toil, and all men and women lust and live and die--to what -purpose? For what progress? For what end? Destruction or new life? -Heaven or hell? Wisdom or caprice? Kindness or cruelty? God or the -Devil? Which? If I knew that I should be wise,--but _till_ I know, I -am but a fool also,--a fool among fools, fooled by a Fate whose secret -I mean to discover and conquer--and defy!” - -He paused,--and, drawing a long, deep breath, raised his eyes to the -stars once more. His lips moved as though he repeated inwardly some -vow or prayer, then he proceeded at a quicker pace, and stopped no -more till he reached his destination, which was a small, quiet, and -unfashionable square off Sloane Street. Here he made his way to an -unpretentious-looking little house, semi-detached, and one of a row of -similar buildings; the only particularly distinctive mark about it -being a heavy and massively-carved ancient oaken door, which opened -easily at the turn of his latch-key, and closed after him without the -slightest sound as he entered. - - - - - III. - -A dim red light burned in the narrow hall, just sufficient to enable -him to see the wooden peg on which he was accustomed to hang his hat -and overcoat,--and as soon as he had divested himself of his outdoor -garb he extinguished even that faint glimmer of radiance. Opening a -side-door, he entered his own room--a picturesque apartment running -from east to west, the full length of the house. From its appearance -it had evidently once served as drawing-room and dining-room, with -folding-doors between; but the folding-doors had been dispensed with, -and the place they had occupied was now draped with heavy amber silk. -This silk seemed to be of some peculiar and costly make, for it -sparkled with iridescent gleams of silver like diamond-dust when -El-Râmi turned on the electric burner, which, in the form of a large -flower, depended from the ceiling by quaintly-worked silver chains, -and was connected by a fine wire with a shaded reading-lamp on the -table. There was not much of either beauty or value in the room,--yet, -without being at all luxurious, it suggested luxury. The few chairs -were of the most ordinary make, all save one, which was of finely -carved ebony, and was piled with silk cushions of amber and red,--the -table was of plain painted deal, covered with a dark woollen cloth -worked in and out with threads of gold,--there were a few geometrical -instruments about,--a large pair of globes,--a rack on the wall -stocked with weapons for the art of fence,--and one large bookcase -full of books. An ebony-cased pianette occupied one corner,--and on a -small side-table stood a heavily-made oaken chest, brass-bound and -double-locked. The furniture was completed by a plain camp-bedstead -such as soldiers use, which at the present moment was partly folded up -and almost hidden from view by a rough bear-skin thrown carelessly -across it. - -El-Râmi sat down in the big ebony chair and looked at a pile of -letters lying on his writing-table. They were from all sorts of -persons,--princes, statesmen, diplomats, financiers, and artists in -all the professions,--he recognised the handwriting on some of the -envelopes, and his brows contracted in a frown as he tossed them aside -still unopened. - -“They must wait,” he said half aloud. “Curious that it is impossible -for a man to be original without attracting around him a set of -unoriginal minds, as though he were a honey-pot and they the flies! -Who would believe that I, poor in worldly goods, and living in more or -less obscurity, should, without any wish of my own, be in touch with -kings?--should know the last new policy of governments before it is -made ripe for public declaration?--should hold the secrets of ‘my -lord’ and ‘my lady’ apart from each other’s cognisance, and be able to -amuse myself with their little ridiculous matrimonial differences, as -though they were puppets playing their parts for use at a marionette -show? I do not ask these people to confide in me,--I do not want them -to seek me out,--and yet the cry is, ‘still they come!’--and the -attributes of my own nature are such that, like a magnet, I attract, -and so am never left in peace. Yet perhaps it is well it should be -thus,--I need the external distraction,--otherwise my mind would be -too much like a bent bow,--fixed on the one centre,--the Great -Secret,--and its powers might fail me at the last. But no!--failure is -impossible now. Steeled against love,--hate,--and all the merely -earthly passions of mankind as I am,--I must succeed--and I will!” - -He leaned his head on one hand, and seemed to suddenly concentrate his -thoughts on one particular subject,--his eyes dilated and grew luridly -brilliant as though sparks of fire burnt behind them. He had not sat -thus for more than a couple of minutes, when the door opened gently, -and a beautiful youth, clad in a loose white tunic and vest of Eastern -fashion, made his appearance, and standing silently on the threshold -seemed to wait for some command. - -“So, Féraz! you heard my summons?” said El-Râmi gently. - -“I heard my brother speak,”--responded Féraz in a low melodious voice -that had a singularly dreamy far-away tone within it--“Through a wall -of cloud and silence his beloved accents fell like music on my -ears;--he called me and I came.” - -And, sighing lightly, he folded his arms cross-wise on his breast and -stood erect and immovable, looking like some fine statue just endowed -by magic with the flush of life. He resembled El-Râmi in features, -but was fairer-skinned,--his eyes were softer and more femininely -lovely,--his hair, black as night, clustered in thick curls over his -brow, and his figure, straight as a young palm-tree, was a perfect -model of strength united with grace. But just now he had a strangely -absorbed air,--his eyes, though they were intently fixed on El-Râmi’s -face, looked like the eyes of a sleep-walker, so dreamy were they -while wide-open,--and as he spoke he smiled vaguely as one who hears -delicious singing afar off. - -El-Râmi studied him intently for a minute or two,--then, removing his -gaze, pressed a small silver hand-bell at his side. It rang sharply -out on the silence. - -“Féraz!” - -Féraz started,--rubbed his eyes,--glanced about him, and then sprang -towards his brother with quite a new expression,--one of grace, -eagerness, and animation, that intensified his beauty and made him -still more worthy the admiration of a painter or a sculptor. - -“El-Râmi! At last! How late you are! I waited for you long--and then -I slept. I am sorry! But you called me in the usual way, I -suppose?--and I did not fail you? Ah no! I should come to you if I -were dead!” - -He dropped on one knee, and raised El-Râmi’s hand caressingly to his -lips. - -“Where have you been all the evening?” he went on. “I have missed you -greatly--the house is so silent.” - -El-Râmi touched his clustering curls tenderly. - -“You could have made music in it with your lute and voice, Féraz, had -you chosen,” he said. “As for me, I went to see _Hamlet_.” - -“Oh, why did you go?” demanded Féraz impetuously. “_I_ would not see -it--no! not for worlds! Such poetry must needs be spoilt by men’s -mouthing of it,--it is better to read it, to think it, to feel -it,--and so one actually _sees_ it,--best.” - -“You talk like a poet,”--said El-Râmi indulgently. “You are not much -more than a boy, and you think the thoughts of youth. Have you any -supper ready for me?” - -Féraz smiled and sprang up, left the room, and returned in a few -minutes with a daintily-arranged tray of refreshments, which he set -before his brother with all the respect and humility of a well-trained -domestic in attendance on his master. - -“You have supped?” El-Râmi asked, as he poured out wine from the -delicately-shaped Italian flask beside him. - -Féraz nodded. - -“Yes. Zaroba supped with me. But she was cross to-night--she had -nothing to say.” - -El-Râmi smiled. “That is unusual!” - -Féraz went on. “There have been many people here,--they all wanted to -see you. They have left their cards. Some of them asked me my name and -who I was. I said I was your servant--but they would not believe me. -There were great folks among them--they came in big carriages with -prancing horses. Have you seen their names?” - -“Not I.” - -“Ah, you are so indifferent,” said Féraz gaily,--he had no quite lost -his dreamy and abstracted look, and talked on in an eager boyish way -that suited his years,--he was barely twenty. “You are so bent on -great thoughts that you cannot see little things, But these dukes and -earls who come to visit you do not consider themselves little,--not -they!” - -“Yet many of them are the least among little men,” said El-Râmi with -a touch of scorn in his mellow accents. “Dowered with great historic -names which they almost despise, they do their best to drag the memory -of their ancient lineage into dishonour by vulgar passions, low -tastes, and a scorn as well as lack of true intelligence. Let us not -talk of them. The English aristocracy was once a magnificent tree, but -its broad boughs are fallen,--lopped off and turned into saleable -timber,--and there is but a decaying stump of it left. And so Zaroba -said nothing to you to-night?” - -“Scarce a word. She was very sullen. She bade me tell you all was -well,--that is her usual formula. I do not understand it;--what is it -that should be well or ill? You never explain your mystery!” - -He smiled, but there was a vivid curiosity in his fine eyes,--he -looked as if he would have asked more had he dared to do so. - -El-Râmi evaded his questioning glance. “Speak of yourself,” he said. -“Did you wander at all into your Dreamland to-day?” - -“I was there when you called me,” replied Féraz quickly. “I saw my -home,--its trees and flowers,--I listened to the ripple of its -fountains and streams. It is harvest-time there, do you know? I heard -the reapers singing as they carried home the sheaves.” - -His brother surveyed him with a fixed and wondering scrutiny. - -“How absolute you are in your faith!” he said half enviously. “You -_think_ it is your home,--but it is only an idea after all,--an idea, -born of a vision.” - -“Does a mere visionary idea engender love and longing?” exclaimed -Féraz impetuously. “Oh no, El-Râmi,--it cannot do so! I _know_ the -land I see so often in what you call a ‘dream,’--its mountains are -familiar to me,--its people are my people; yes!--I am remembered -there, and so are you,--we dwelt there once,--we shall dwell there -again. It is your home as well as mine,--that bright and far-off star -where there is no death but only sleep,--why were we exiled from our -happiness, El-Râmi? Can your wisdom tell?” - -“I know nothing of what you say,” returned El-Râmi brusquely. “As I -told you, you talk like a poet,--harsher men than I would add, like a -madman. You imagine you were born or came into being in a different -planet from this,--that you lived there,--that you were exiled from -thence by some mysterious doom, and were condemned to pass into human -existence here;--well, I repeat, Féraz,--this is your own fancy,--the -result of the strange double life you lead, which is not by my will or -teaching. I believe only in what can be proved--and this that you tell -me is beyond all proof.” - -“And yet,” said Féraz meditatively,--“though I cannot reason it out, -I am sure of what I feel. My ‘dream’ is more life-like than life -itself,--and as for my beloved people yonder, I tell you I have heard -them singing the harvest-home.” - -And with a quick soft step he went to the piano, opened it, and began -to play. El-Râmi leaned back in his chair mute and absorbed,--did -ever common keyed instrument give forth such enchanting sounds? Was -ever written music known that could, when performed, utter such divine -and dulcet eloquence? There was nothing earthly in the tune, it seemed -to glide from under the player’s fingers like a caress upon the -air,--and an involuntary sigh broke from El-Râmi’s lips as he -listened. Féraz heard that sigh, and turned round smiling. - -“Is there not something familiar in the strain?” he asked. “Do you not -see them all, so fair and light and lithe of limb, coming over the -fields homewards as the red Ring burns low in the western sky? -Surely--surely you remember?” - -A slight shudder shook El-Râmi’s frame,--he pressed his hands over -his eyes, and seemed to collect himself by a strong effort,--then, -walking over to the piano, he took his young brother’s hands from the -keys and held them for a moment against his breast. - -“Keep your illusions”--he said in a low voice that trembled slightly. -“Keep them,--and your faith,--together. It is for you to dream, and -for me to prove. Mine is the hardest lot. There may be truth in your -dreams,--there may be deception in my proofs--Heaven only knows! Were -you not of my own blood, and dearer to me than most human things, I -should, like every scientist worthy of the name, strive to break off -your spiritual pinions and make of you a mere earth-grub even as most -of us are made,--but I cannot do it,--I have not the heart to do -it,--and if I had the heart”--he paused a moment,--then went on -slowly--“I have not the power. Good-night!” - -He left the room abruptly without another word or look,--and the -beautiful young Féraz gazed after his retreating figure doubtfully -and with something of wondering regret. Was it worth while, he -thought, to be so wise, if wisdom made one at times so sad?--was it -well to sacrifice Faith for Fact, when Faith was so warm and Fact so -cold? Was it better to be a dreamer of things possible, or a -worker-out of things positive? And how much was positive after all? -and how much possible? He balanced the question lightly with -himself,--it was like a discord in the music of his mind, and -disturbed his peace. He soon dismissed the jarring thought, however, -and, closing the piano, glanced round the room to make sure that -nothing more was required for his brother’s service or comfort that -night, and then he went away to resume his interrupted -slumbers,--perchance to take up the chorus of his “people” singing in -what he deemed his native star. - - - - - IV. - -El-Râmi meanwhile slowly ascended the stairs to the first floor, -and there on the narrow landing paused, listening. There was not a -sound in the house,--the delicious music of the strange “harvest-song” -had ceased, though to El-Râmi’s ears there still seemed to be a throb -of its melody in the air, like perfume left from the carrying by of -flowers. And with this vague impression upon him he -listened,--listened as it were to the deep silence; and as he stood in -this attentive attitude, his eyes rested on a closed door opposite to -him,--a door which might, if taken off its hinges and exhibited at -some museum, have carried away the palm for perfection in -panel-painting. It was so designed as to resemble a fine trellis-work, -hung with pale clambering roses and purple passion-flowers,--on the -upper half among the blossoms sat a meditative cupid, pressing a bud -against his pouting lips, while below him, stretched in full-length -desolation on a bent bough, his twin brother wept childishly over the -piteous fate of a butterfly that lay dead in his curled pink palm. -El-Râmi stared so long and persistently at the pretty picture that it -might have been imagined he was looking at it for the first time and -was absorbed in admiration, but truth to tell he scarcely saw it. His -thoughts were penetrating beyond all painted semblances of -beauty,--and,--as in the case of his young brother Féraz,--those -thoughts were speedily answered. A key turned in the lock,--the door -opened, and a tall old woman, bronze-skinned, black-eyed, withered, -uncomely yet imposing of aspect, stood in the aperture. - -“Enter, El-Râmi!” she said in a low yet harsh voice--“The hour is -late,--but when did ever the lateness of hours change or deter your -sovereign will! Yet, truly as God liveth, it is hard that I should -seldom be permitted to pass a night in peace!” - -El-Râmi smiled indifferently, but made no reply, as it was useless to -answer Zaroba. She was stone-deaf, and therefore not in a condition to -be argued with. She preceded him into a small ante-room, provided with -no other furniture than a table and chair;--one entire side of the -wall, however, was hung with a magnificent curtain of purple velvet -bordered in gold. On the table were a slate and pencil, and these -implements El-Râmi at once drew towards him. - -“Has there been any change to-day?” he wrote. - -Zaroba read the words. - -“None,” she replied. - -“She has not moved?” - -“Not a finger.” - -He paused, pencil in hand,--then he wrote-- - -“You are ill-tempered. You have your dark humour upon you.” - -Zaroba’s eyes flashed, and she threw up her skinny hands with a -wrathful gesture. - -“Dark humour!” she cried in accents that were almost shrill--“Ay!--and -if it be so, El-Râmi, what is my humour to you? Am I anything more to -you than a cipher,--a mere slave? What have the thoughts of a foolish -woman, bent with years and close to the dark gateways of the tomb, to -do with one who deems himself all wisdom? What are the feelings of a -wretched perishable piece of flesh and blood to a self-centred god and -opponent of Nature like El-Râmi-Zarânos?” She laughed bitterly. “Pay -no heed to me, great Master of the Fates invisible!--superb controller -of the thoughts of men!--pay no heed to Zaroba’s ‘dark humours,’ as -you call them. Zaroba has no wings to soar with--she is old and -feeble, and aches at the heart with a burden of unshed tears,--she -would fain have been content with this low earth whereon to tread in -safety,--she would fain have been happy with common joys,--but these -are debarred her, and her lot is like that of many a better woman,--to -sit solitary among the ashes of dead days and know herself desolate!” - -She dropped her arms as suddenly as she had raised them. El-Râmi -surveyed her with a touch of derision, and wrote again on the slate: - -“I thought you loved your charge?” - -Zaroba read, and drew herself up proudly, looking almost as dignified -as El-Râmi himself. - -“Does one love a statue?” she demanded. “Shall I caress a picture? -Shall I rain tears or kisses over the mere semblance of a life that -does not live,--shall I fondle hands that never return my clasp? Love! -Love is in my heart--yes! like a shut-up fire in a tomb,--but you hold -the key, El-Râmi, and the flame dies for want of air.” - -He shrugged his shoulders, and, putting the pencil aside, wrote no -more. Moving towards the velvet curtain that draped the one side of -the room he made an imperious sign. Zaroba, obeying the gesture -mechanically and at once, drew a small pulley, by means of which the -rich soft folds of stuff parted noiselessly asunder, displaying such a -wonderful interior of luxury and loveliness as seemed for the moment -almost unreal. The apartment opened to view was lofty and perfectly -circular in shape, and was hung from top to bottom with silken -hangings of royal purple embroidered all over with curious arabesque -patterns in gold. The same rich material was caught up from the edges -of the ceiling to the centre, like the drapery of a pavilion or tent, -and was there festooned with golden fringes and tassels. From out the -midst of this warm mass of glistening colour swung a gold lamp which -shed its light through amber-hued crystal,--while the floor below was -carpeted with the thickest velvet pile, the design being pale purple -pansies on a darker ground of the same almost neutral tint. A specimen -of everything beautiful, rare, and costly seemed to have found its way -into this one room, from the exquisitely-wrought ivory figure of a -Psyche on her pedestal, to the tall vase of Venetian crystal which -held lightly up to view dozens of magnificent roses that seemed born -of full midsummer, though as yet, in the capricious English climate, -it was scarcely spring. And all the beauty, all the grace, all the -evidences of perfect taste, art, care, and forethought were gathered -together round one centre,--one unseeing, unresponsive centre,--the -figure of a sleeping girl. Pillowed on a raised couch such as might -have served a queen for costliness, she lay fast bound in slumber,--a -matchless piece of loveliness,--stirless as marble,--wondrous as the -ideal of a poet’s dream. Her delicate form was draped loosely in a -robe of purest white, arranged so as to suggest rather than conceal -its exquisite outline,--a silk coverlet was thrown lightly across her -feet, and her head rested on cushions of the softest, snowiest satin. -Her exceedingly small white hands were crossed upon her breast over a -curious jewel,--a sort of giant ruby cut in the shape of a star, which -scintillated with a thousand sparkles in the light, and coloured the -under-tips of her fingers with a hue like wine, and her hair, which -was of extraordinary length and beauty, almost clothed her body down -to the knee, as with a mantle of shimmering gold. To say merely that -she was lovely would scarcely describe her,--for the loveliness that -is generally understood as such was here so entirely surpassed and -intensified that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to express -its charm. Her face had the usual attributes of what might be deemed -perfection,--that is, the lines were purely oval,--the features -delicate, the skin most transparently fair, the lips a dewy red, and -the fringes of the closed eyes were long, dark, and delicately -upcurled;--but this was not all. There was something else,--something -quite undefinable, that gave a singular glow and radiance to the whole -countenance, and suggested the burning of a light through -alabaster,--a creeping of some subtle fire through the veins which -made the fair body seem the mere reflection of some greater fairness -within. If those eyes were to open, one thought, how wonderful their -lustre must needs be!--if that perfect figure rose up and moved, what -a harmony would walk the world in maiden shape!--and yet,--watching -that hushed repose, that scarcely perceptible breathing, it seemed -more than certain that she would never rise,--never tread earthly soil -in common with earth’s creatures,--never be more than what she -seemed,--a human flower, gathered and set apart--for whom? For God’s -love? Or Man’s pleasure? Either, neither, or both? - -El-Râmi entered the rich apartment, followed by Zaroba, and stood by -the couch for some minutes in silence. Whatever his thoughts were, his -face gave no clue to them,--his features being as impassive as though -cast in bronze. Zaroba watched him curiously, her wrinkled visage -expressive of some strongly-suppressed passion. The sleeping girl -stirred and smiled in her sleep,--a smile that brightened her -countenance as much as if a sudden glory had circled it with a halo. - -“Ay, she lives for you!” said Zaroba. “And she grows fairer every day. -She is the sun and you the snow. But the snow is bound to melt in due -season,--and even you, El-Râmi-Zarânos, will hardly baffle the laws -of Nature!” - -El-Râmi turned upon her with a fierce mute gesture that had something -of the terrible in it,--she shrank from the cold glance of his intense -eyes, and in obedience to an imperative wave of his hand moved away to -a farther corner of the room, where, crouching down upon the floor, -she took up a quaint implement of work, a carved triangular frame of -ebony, with which she busied herself, drawing glittering threads in -and out of it with marvellous speed and dexterity. She made a weird -picture there, squatted on the ground in her yellow cotton draperies, -her rough gray hair gleaming like spun silk in the light, and the -shining threadwork in her withered hands. El-Râmi looked at her -sitting thus, and was suddenly moved with compassion--she was old and -sad,--poor Zaroba! He went up to her where she crouched, and stood -above her, his ardent fiery eyes seeming to gather all their wonderful -lustre into one long, earnest, and pitiful regard. Her work fell from -her hands, and as she met that burning gaze a vague smile parted her -lips,--her frowning features smoothed themselves into an expression of -mingled placidity and peace. - -“Desolate Zaroba!” said El-Râmi, slowly lifting his hands. “Widowed -and solitary soul! Deaf to the outer noises of the world, let the ears -of thy spirit be open to my voice--and hear thou all the music of the -past! Lo, the bygone years return to thee and picture themselves -afresh upon thy tired brain!--again thou dost listen to the voices of -thy children at play,--the wild Arabian desert spreads out before thee -in the sun like a sea of gold,--the tall palms lift themselves against -the burning sky--the tent is pitched by the cool spring of fresh -water,--and thy savage mate, wearied out with long travel, sleeps, -pillowed on thy breast. Thou art young again, Zaroba!--young, fair, -and beloved!--be happy so! Dream and rest!” - -As he spoke he took the aged woman’s unresisting hands and laid her -gently, gently, by gradual degrees down in a recumbent posture, and -placing a cushion under her head watched her for a few seconds. - -“By Heaven!” he muttered, as he heard her regular breathing and noted -the perfectly composed expression of her face. “Are dreams after all -the only certain joys of life? A poet’s fancies,--a painter’s -visions--the cloud-castles of a boy’s imaginings--all dreams!--and -only such dreamers can be called happy. Neither Fate nor Fortune can -destroy their pleasure,--they make sport of kings and hold great -nations as the merest toys of thought--oh sublime audacity of Vision! -Would I could dream so!--or rather, would I could prove my dreams not -dreams at all, but the reflections of the absolute Real! Hamlet again! - - “‘To die--to sleep;-- - To sleep!--perchance to dream; ay, there’s the rub!’ - -Imagine it!--to die and _dream_ of Heaven--or Hell--and all the while -if there should be no reality in either!” - -With one more glance at the now soundly slumbering Zaroba, he went -back to the couch, and gazed long and earnestly at the exquisite -maiden there reclined,--then bending over her, he took her small fair -left hand in his own, pressing his fingers hard round the delicate -wrist. - -“Lilith!--Lilith!” he said in low, yet commanding accents. -“Lilith!--Speak to me! I am here!” - - - - - V. - -Deep silence followed his invocation,--a silence he seemed to expect -and be prepared for. Looking at a silver timepiece on a bracket above -the couch, he mentally counted slowly a hundred beats,--then pressing -the fragile wrist he held still more firmly between his fingers, he -touched with his other hand the girl’s brow, just above her closed -eyes. A faint quiver ran through the delicate body,--he quickly drew -back and spoke again. - -“Lilith! Where are you?” - -The sweet lips parted, and a voice soft as whispered music responded-- - -“I am here!” - -“Is all well with you?” - -“All is well!” - -And a smile irradiated the fair face with such a light as to suggest -that the eyes must have opened,--but no!--they were fast shut. - -El-Râmi resumed his strange interrogation. - -“Lilith! What do you see?” - -There was a moment’s pause,--then came the slow response-- - -“Many things,--things beautiful and wonderful. But you are not among -them. I hear your voice and I obey it, but I cannot see you--I have -never seen you.” - -El-Râmi sighed, and pressed more closely the soft small hand within -his own. - -“Where have you been?” - -“Where my pleasure led me”--came the answer in a sleepy yet joyous -tone--“My pleasure and--your will.” - -El-Râmi started, but immediately controlled himself, for Lilith -stirred and threw her other arm indolently behind her head, leaving -the great ruby on her breast flashingly exposed to view. - -“Away, away, far, far away!” she said, and her accents sounded like -subdued singing--“Beyond,--in those regions whither I was -sent--beyond----” her voice stopped and trailed off into drowsy -murmurings--“beyond--Sirius--I saw----” - -She ceased, and smiled--some happy thought seemed to have rendered her -mute. - -El-Râmi waited a moment, then took up her broken speech. - -“Far beyond Sirius you saw--what?” - -Moving, she pillowed her cheek upon her hand, and turned more fully -round towards him. - -“I saw a bright new world,”--she said, now speaking quite clearly and -connectedly--“A royal world of worlds; an undiscovered Star. There -were giant oceans in it,--the noise of many waters was heard -throughout the land,--and there were great cities marvellously built -upon the sea. I saw their pinnacles of white and gold--spires of -coral, and gates that were studded with pearl,--flags waved and music -sounded, and two great Suns gave double light from heaven. I saw many -thousands of people--they were beautiful and happy--they sang and -danced and gave thanks in the everlasting sunshine, and knelt in -crowds upon their wide and fruitful fields to thank the Giver of life -immortal.” - -“Life immortal!” repeated El-Râmi,--“Do not these people die, even as -we?” - -A pained look, as of wonder or regret, knitted the girl’s fair brows. - -“There is no death--neither here nor there”--she said steadily--“I -have told you this so often, yet you will not believe. Always you bid -me seek for death,--I have looked, but cannot find it.” - -She sighed, and El-Râmi echoed the sigh. - -“I wish”--and her accents sounded plaintively--“I wish that I could -see you! There is some cloud between us. I hear your voice and I obey -it, but I cannot see who it is that calls me.” - -El-Râmi paid no heed to these dove-like murmurings,--moreover, he -seemed to have no eyes for the wondrous beauty of the creature who lay -thus tranced and in his power,--set on his one object, the attainment -of a supernatural knowledge, he looked as pitiless and impervious to -all charm as any Grand Inquisitor of old Spain. - -“Speak of yourself and not of me”--he said authoritatively, “How can -you say there is no death?” - -“I speak truth. There is none.” - -“Not even here?” - -“Not anywhere.” - -“O daughter of vision, where are the eyes of your spirit?” demanded -El-Râmi angrily--“Search again and see! Why should all Nature arm -itself against Death if there be no death?” - -“You are harsh,”--said Lilith sorrowfully--“Should I tell you what is -not true? If I would, I cannot. There is no death--there is only -change. Beyond Sirius, they sleep.” - -El-Râmi waited; but she had paused again. - -“Go on”--he said--“They sleep--why and when?” - -“When they are weary”--responded Lilith. “When all is done that they -can do, and when they need rest, they sleep, and in their sleep they -change;--the change is----” - -She ceased. - -“The change is death,” said El-Râmi positively,--“for death is -everywhere.” - -“Not so!” replied Lilith quickly, and in a ringing tone of -clarion-like sweetness. “The change is life,--for Life is everywhere!” - -There ensued a silence. The girl turned away, and, bringing her hand -slowly down from behind her head, laid it again upon her breast over -the burning ruby gem. El-Râmi bent above her closely. - -“You are dreaming, Lilith,”--he said as though he would force her to -own something against her will. “You speak unwisely and at random.” - -Still silence. - -“Lilith!--Lilith!” he called. - -No answer;--only the lovely tints of her complexion, the smile on her -lips, and the tranquil heaving of her rounded bosom indicated that she -lived. - -“Gone!” and El-Râmi’s brow clouded; he laid back the little hand he -held in its former position and looked at the girl long and -steadily--“And so firm in her assertion!--as foolish an assertion as -any of the fancies of Féraz. No death? Nay--as well say no life. She -has not fathomed the secret of our passing hence; no, not though her -flight has outreached the realm of Sirius. - - “‘But that the dread of something after death, - The undiscovered country from whose bourne - No traveller returns, puzzles the will.’ - -Ay, puzzles the will and confounds it! But must I be baffled then?--or -is it my own fault that _I cannot believe_? Is it truly her spirit -that speaks to me?--or is it my own brain acting upon hers in a state -of trance? If it be the latter, why should she declare things that I -never dream of, and which my reason does not accept as possible? And -if it is indeed her Soul, or the ethereal Essence of her that thus -soars at periodic intervals of liberty into the Unseen, how is it that -she never comprehends Death or Pain? Is her vision limited only to -behold harmonious systems moving to a sound of joy?” - -And, seized by a sudden resolution, he caught both the hands of the -tranced girl and held them in his own, the while he fixed his eyes -upon her quiet face with a glance that seemed to shoot forth flame. - -“Lilith! Lilith! By the force of my will and mastery over thy life, I -bid thee return to me! O flitting spirit, ever bent on errands of -pleasure, reveal to me the secrets of pain! Come back, Lilith! I call -thee--come!” - -A violent shudder shook the beautiful reposeful figure,--the smile -faded from her lips, and she heaved a profound sigh. - -“I am here!” - -“Listen to my bidding!” said El-Râmi, in measured accents that -sounded almost cruel. “As you have soared to heights ineffable, even -so descend to lowest depths of desolation! Understand and seek out -sorrow,--pierce to the root of suffering, explain the cause of -unavailing agony! These things exist. Here in this planet of which you -know nothing save my voice,--here, if nowhere else in the wide -Universe, we gain our bread with bitterness and drink our wine with -tears. Solve me the mystery of pain,--of injustice,--of an innocent -child’s anguish on its death-bed,--ay! though you tell me there is no -death!--of a good man’s ruin,--of an evil woman’s triumph,--of -despair,--of self-slaughter,--of all the horrors upon horrors piled, -which make up this world’s present life. Listen, O too ecstatic and -believing Spirit!--we have a legend here that a God lives--a wise -all-loving God,--and He, this wise and loving one, has out of His -great bounty invented for the torture of His creatures,--Hell! Find -out this Hell, Lilith!--Prove it!--bring the plan of its existence -back to me. Go,--bring me news of devils,--and suffer, if spirits -_can_ suffer, in the unmitigated sufferings of others! Take my command -and go hence, find out God’s Hell!--so shall we afterwards know the -worth of Heaven!” - -He spoke rapidly,--impetuously,--passionately;--and now he allowed the -girl’s hands to fall suddenly from his clasp. She moaned a -little,--and, instead of folding them one over the other as before, -raised them palm to palm in an attitude of prayer. The colour faded -entirely from her face,--but an expression of the calmest, grandest -wisdom, serenity, and compassion came over her features as of a saint -prepared for martyrdom. Her breathing grew fainter and fainter till it -was scarcely perceptible,--and her lips parted in a short sobbing -sigh,--then they moved and whispered something. El-Râmi stooped over -her more closely. - -“What is it?” he asked eagerly--“what did you say?” - -“Nothing, ... only ... farewell!” and the faint tone stirred the -silence like the last sad echo of a song--“And yet ... once more ... -farewell!” - -He drew back, and observed her intently. She now looked like a -recumbent statue, with those upraised hands of hers so white and small -and delicate,--and El-Râmi remembered that he must keep the machine -of the Body living, if he desired to receive through its medium the -messages of the Spirit. Taking a small phial from his breast, together -with the necessary surgeon’s instrument used for such purposes, he -pricked the rounded arm nearest to him, and carefully injected into -the veins a small quantity of a strange sparkling fluid which gave out -a curiously sweet and pungent odour;--as he did this, the lifted hands -fell gently into their original position, crossed over the ruby star. -The breathing grew steadier and lighter,--the lips took fresh -colour,--and El-Râmi watched the effect with absorbed interest and -attention. - -“One might surely preserve her body so for ever,” he mused half aloud. -“The tissues renewed,--the blood reorganised,--the whole system -completely nourished with absolute purity; and not a morsel of what is -considered food, which contains so much organic mischief, allowed to -enter that exquisitely beautiful mechanism, which exhales all waste -upon the air through the pores of the skin as naturally as a flower -exhales perfume through its leaves. A wonderful discovery!--if all men -knew it, would not they deem themselves truly immortal, even here? But -the trial is not over yet,--the experiment is not perfect. Six years -has she lived thus, but who can say whether indeed Death has no power -over her? In those six years she has changed,--she has grown from -childhood to womanhood,--does not change imply age?--and age suggest -death, in spite of all science? O inexorable Death!--I will pluck its -secret out if I die in the effort!” - -He turned away from the couch,--then seemed struck by a new idea. - -“_If_ I die, did I say? But _can_ I die? Is her Spirit right? Is my -reasoning wrong? Is there no pause anywhere?--no cessation of -thought?--no end to the insatiability of ambition? Must we plan and -work and live--For Ever?” - -A shudder ran through him,--the notion of his own perpetuity appalled -him. Passing a long mirror framed in antique silver, he caught sight -of himself in it,--his dark handsome face, rendered darker by the -contrasting whiteness of his hair,--his full black eyes,--his fine but -disdainful mouth,--all looked back at him with the scornful reflex of -his own scornful regard. - -He laughed a little bitterly. - -“There you are, El-Râmi-Zarânos!” he murmured half aloud. “Scoffer -and scientist,--master of a few common magnetic secrets such as the -priests of ancient Egypt made sport of, though in these modern days of -‘culture’ they are sufficient to make most men your tools! What now? -Is there no rest for the inner calculations of your mind? Plan and -work and live for ever? Well, why not? Could I fathom the secrets of -thousand universes, would that suffice me? No! I should seek for the -solving of a thousand more!” - -He gave a parting glance round the room,--at the fair tranced form on -the couch, at the placid Zaroba slumbering in a corner, at the whole -effect of the sumptuous apartment, with its purple and gold, its -roses, its crystal and ivory adornments,--then he passed out, drawing -to the velvet curtains noiselessly behind him. In the small ante-room, -he took up the slate and wrote upon it-- - - “I shall not return hither for forty-eight hours. During this interval - admit as much full daylight as possible. Observe the strictest - silence, and do not touch her. - - “El-Râmi.” - -Having thus set down his instructions he descended the stairs to his -own room, where, extinguishing the electric light, he threw himself on -his hard camp-bedstead and was soon sound asleep. - - - - - VI. - -“I do not believe in a future state. I am very much distressed about -it.” - -The speaker was a stoutish, able-bodied individual in clerical dress, -with rather a handsome face and an easy agreeable manner. He addressed -himself to El-Râmi, who, seated at his writing-table, observed him -with something of a satirical air. - -“You wrote me this letter?” queried El-Râmi, selecting one from a -heap beside him. The clergyman bent forward to look, and, recognising -his own handwriting, smiled a bland assent. - -“You are the Reverend Francis Anstruther, Vicar of Laneck,--a great -favourite with the Bishop of your diocese, I understand?” - -The gentleman bowed blandly again,--then assumed a meek and chastened -expression. - -“That is, I _was_ a favourite of the Bishop’s at one time”--he -murmured regretfully--“and I suppose I am now, only I fear that this -matter of conscience----” - -“Oh, it _is_ a matter of conscience?” said El-Râmi slowly--“You are -sure of that?” - -“Quite sure of that!” and the Reverend Francis Anstruther sighed -profoundly. - -“‘Thus conscience does make cowards of us all----’” - -“I beg your pardon?” and the clergyman opened his eyes a little. - -“Nay, I beg yours!--I was quoting _Hamlet_.” - -“Oh!” - -There was a silence. El-Râmi bent his dark flashing eyes on his -visitor, who seemed a little confused by the close scrutiny. It was -the morning after the circumstances narrated in the previous -chapter,--the clock marked ten minutes to noon,--the weather was -brilliant and sunshiny, and the temperature warm for the uncertain -English month of May. El-Râmi rose suddenly and threw open the window -nearest him, as if he found the air oppressive. - -“Why did you seek me out?” he demanded, turning towards the reverend -gentleman once more. - -“Well, it was really the merest accident----” - -“It always is!” said El-Râmi with a slight dubious smile. - -“I was at Lady Melthorpe’s the other day, and I told her my -difficulty. She spoke of you, and said she felt certain you would be -able to clear up my doubts----” - -“Not at all. I am too busy clearing up my own,” said El-Râmi -brusquely. - -The clergyman looked surprised. - -“Dear me!--I thought, from what her ladyship said, that you were -scientifically certain of----” - -“Of what?” interrupted El-Râmi--“Of myself? Nothing more uncertain in -the world than my own humour, I assure you! Of others? I am not a -student of human caprice. Of life?--of death? Neither. I am simply -trying to prove the existence of a ‘something after death’--but I am -certain of nothing, and I believe in nothing, unless proved.” - -“But,” said Mr. Anstruther anxiously--“you will, I hope, allow me to -explain that you leave a very different impression on the minds of -those to whom you speak, from the one you now suggest. Lady Melthorpe, -for instance----” - -“Lady Melthorpe believes what it pleases her to believe,”--said -El-Râmi quietly--“All pretty, sensitive, imaginative women do. That -accounts for the immense success of Roman Catholicism with women. It -is a graceful, pleasing, comforting religion,--moreover, it is really -becoming to a woman,--she looks charming with a rosary in her hand, or -a quaint old missal,--and she knows it. Lady Melthorpe is a believer -in ideals,--well, there is no harm in ideals,--long may she be able to -indulge in them.” - -“But Lady Melthorpe declares that you are able to tell the past and -the future,” persisted the clergyman--“And that you can also read the -present;--if that is so, you must surely possess visionary power?” - -El-Râmi looked at him steadfastly. - -“I can tell you the past;”--he said--“And I can read your -present;--and from the two portions of your life I can calculate the -last addition, the Future,--but my calculation may be wrong. I mean -wrong as regards coming events;--past and present I can never be -mistaken in, because there exists a natural law, by which you are -bound to reveal yourself to me.” - -The Reverend Francis Anstruther moved uneasily in his chair, but -managed to convey into his countenance the proper expression of -politely incredulous astonishment. - -“This natural law,” went on El-Râmi, laying one hand on the celestial -globe as he spoke, “has been in existence ever since man’s formation, -but we are only just now beginning to discover it, or rather -re-discover it, since it was tolerably well known to the priests of -ancient Egypt. You see this sphere;”--and he moved the celestial globe -round slowly--“It represents the pattern of the heavens according to -our solar system. Now a Persian poet of old time declared in a few -wild verses that solar systems, taken in a mass, could be considered -the brain of heaven, the stars being the thinking, moving molecules of -that brain. A sweeping idea,--what your line-and-pattern critics would -call ‘far-fetched’--but it will serve me just now for an illustration -of my meaning. Taking this ‘brain of heaven’ by way of simile then, it -is evident we--we human pigmies--are, notwithstanding our ridiculous -littleness and inferiority, able to penetrate correctly enough into -some of the mysteries of that star-teeming intelligence,--we can even -take patterns of its shifting molecules”--and again he touched the -globe beside him,--“we can watch its modes of thought--and calculate -when certain planets will rise and set,--and when we cannot see its -action, we can get its vibrations of light, to the marvellous extent -of being able to photograph the moon of Neptune, which remains -invisible to the eye even with the assistance of a telescope. You -wonder what all this tends to?--well,--I speak of vibrations of light -from the brain of heaven,--vibrations which we know are existent; and -which we prove by means of photography; and, because we _see_ the -results in black and white, we believe in them. But there are other -vibrations in the Universe, which cannot be photographed,--the -vibrations of the human brain, which, like those emanating from the -‘brain of heaven,’ are full of light and fire, and convey distinct -impressions or patterns of thought. People speak of -‘thought-transference’ from one subject to another as if it were a -remarkable coincidence,--whereas you cannot put a stop to the -transference of thought,--it is in the very air, like the germs of -disease or health,--and nothing can do away with it.” - -“I do not exactly understand”--murmured the clergyman with some -bewilderment. - -“Ah, you want a practical demonstration of what seems a merely -abstract theory? Nothing easier!”--and moving again to the table he -sat down, fixing his dark eyes keenly on his visitor--“As the stars -pattern heaven in various shapes, like the constellation Lyra, or -Orion, so you have patterned your brain with pictures or photographs -of your past and your present. _All_ your past, every scene of it, is -impressed in the curious little brain-particles that lie in their -various cells,--you have forgotten some incidents, but they would all -come back to you if you were drowning or being hanged;--because -suffocation or strangulation would force up every infinitesimal atom -of brain-matter into extraordinary prominence for the moment. -Naturally your present existence is the most vivid picture with you, -therefore perhaps you would like me to begin with that?” - -“Begin?--how?” asked Mr. Anstruther, still in amazement. - -“Why,--let me take the impression of your brain upon my own. It is -quite simple, and quite scientific. Consider yourself the photographic -negative, and me the sensitive paper to receive the impression! I may -offer you a blurred picture, but I do not think it likely. Only if you -wish to hide anything from me I would advise you not to try the -experiment.” - -“Really, sir,--this is very extraordinary!--I am at a loss to -comprehend----” - -“Oh, I will make it quite plain to you,” said El-Râmi with a slight -smile--“There is no witchcraft in it--no trickery,--nothing but the -commonest A B C science. Will you try?--or would you prefer to leave -the matter alone? My demonstration will not convince you of a ‘future -state,’ which was the subject you first spoke to me about,--it will -only prove to you the physiological phenomena surrounding your present -constitution and condition.” - -The Reverend Francis Anstruther hesitated. He was a little startled by -the cold and convincing manner with which El-Râmi spoke,--at the same -time he did not believe in his words, and his own incredulity inclined -him to see the “experiment,” whatever it was. It would be all -hocus-pocus, of course,--this Oriental fellow could know nothing about -him,--he had never seen him before, and must therefore be totally -ignorant of his private life and affairs. Considering this for a -moment, he looked up and smiled. - -“I shall be most interested and delighted,”--he said--“to make the -trial you suggest. I am really curious. As for the present picture or -photograph on my brain, I think it will only show you my perplexity as -to my position with the Bishop in my wavering state of mind----” - -“Or conscience--” suggested El-Râmi--“You said it was a matter of -conscience.” - -“Quite so--quite so! And conscience is the most powerful motor of a -man’s actions, Mr.--Mr. El-Râmi! It is indeed the voice of God!” - -“That depends on what it says, and how we hear it--” said El-Râmi -rather dryly--“Now if we are to make this ‘demonstration,’ will you -put your left hand here, in my left hand? So,--your left palm must -press closely upon my left palm,--yes--that will do. Observe the -position, please;--you see that my left fingers rest on your left -wrist, and are therefore directly touching the nerves and arteries -running through your heart from your brain. By this, you are, to use -my former simile, pressing me, the sensitive paper, to your -photographic negative--and I make no doubt we shall get a fair -impression. But to prevent any interruption to the brain-wave rushing -from you to me, we will add this little trifle,” and he dexterously -slipped a steel band over his hand and that of his visitor as they -rested thus together on the table, and snapt it to,--“a sort of -handcuff, as you perceive. It has nothing in the world to do with our -experiment. It is simply placed there to prevent your moving your hand -away from mine, which would be your natural impulse if I should happen -to say anything disagreeably true. And to do so would of course cut -the ethereal thread of contact between us. Now, are you ready?” - -The clergyman grew a shade paler. El-Râmi seemed so very sure of the -result of this singular trial that it was a little bit disagreeable. -But, having consented to the experiment, he felt he was compelled to -go through with it, so he bowed a nervous assent. Whereupon El-Râmi -closed his brilliant eyes, and sat for one or two minutes silent and -immovable. A curious fidgetiness began to trouble the Reverend Francis -Anstruther,--he tried to think of something ridiculous, something -altogether apart from himself, but in vain,--his own personality, his -own life, his own secret aims seemed all to weigh upon him like a -sudden incubus. Presently tingling sensations pricked his arm as with -burning needles,--the hand that was fettered to that of El-Râmi felt -as hot as though it were being held to a fire. All at once El-Râmi -spoke in a low tone, without opening his eyes-- - -“The shadow-impression of a woman. Brown-haired, dark-eyed,--of a -full, luscious beauty, and a violent, unbridled, ill-balanced will. -Mindless, but physically attractive. She dominates your thought.” - -A quiver ran through the clergyman’s frame,--if he could only have -snatched away his hand he would have done it then. - -“She is not your wife--” went on El-Râmi--“she is the wife of your -wealthiest neighbour. You have a wife,--an invalid,--you have also -eight children,--but these are not prominent in the picture at -present. The woman with the dark eyes and hair is the chief figure. -Your plans are made for her----” - -He paused, and again the wretched Mr. Anstruther shuddered. - -“Wait--wait!” exclaimed El-Râmi suddenly in a tone of animation--“Now -it comes clearly. You have decided to leave the Church, not because -you do not believe in a future state,--for this you never have -believed at any time--but because you wish to rid yourself of all -moral and religious responsibility. Your scheme is perfectly distinct. -You will make out a ‘case of conscience’ to your authorities, and -resign your living,--you will then desert your wife and children,--you -will leave your country in the company of the woman whose secret lover -you are----” - -“Stop!” cried the Reverend Mr. Anstruther, savagely endeavouring to -wrench away his hand from the binding fetter which held it -remorselessly to the hand of El-Râmi--“Stop! You are telling me a -pack of lies!” - -El-Râmi opened his great flashing orbs and surveyed him first in -surprise, then with a deep unutterable contempt. Unclasping the steel -band that bound their two hands together, he flung it by, and rose to -his feet. - -“Lies?” he echoed indignantly. “Your whole life is a lie, and both -Nature and Science are bound to give the reflex of it. What! would you -play a double part with the Eternal Forces and think to succeed in -such desperate fooling? Do you imagine you can deceive supreme -Omniscience, which holds every star and every infinitesimal atom of -life in a network of such instant vibrating consciousness and contact -that in terrible truth there are and can be ‘no secrets hid’? You may -if you like act out the wretched comedy of feigning to deceive _your_ -God--the God of the Churches,--but beware of trifling with the _real_ -God,--the absolute Ego Sum of the Universe.” - -His voice rang out passionately upon the stillness,--the clergyman had -also risen from his chair, and stood, nervously fumbling with his -gloves, not venturing to raise his eyes. - -“I have told you the truth of yourself,”--continued El-Râmi more -quietly--“You know I have. Why then do you accuse me of telling you -lies? Why did you seek me out at all if you wished to conceal yourself -and your intentions from me? Can you deny the testimony of your own -brain reflected on mine? Come, confess! be honest for once,--_do_ you -deny it?” - -“I deny everything;”--replied the clergyman,--but his accents were -husky and indistinct. - -“So be it!”--and El-Râmi gave a short laugh of scorn. “Your ‘case of -conscience’ is evidently very pressing. Go to your Bishop--and tell -him you cannot believe in a future state,--I certainly cannot help you -to prove _that_ mystery. Besides, you would rather there were no -future state,--a ‘something after death’ must needs be an unpleasant -point of meditation for such as you. Oh yes!--you will get your -freedom;--you will get all you are scheming for, and you will be quite -a notorious person for a while on account of the delicacy of your -sense of honour and the rectitude of your principles. Exactly!--and -then your final _coup_,--your running away with your neighbour’s wife -will make you notorious again--in quite another sort of fashion. -Ah!--every man is bound to weave the threads of his own destiny, and -you are weaving yours;--do not be surprised if you find you have made -of them a net wherein to become hopelessly caught, tied, and -strangled. It is no doubt unpleasant for you to hear these -things,--what a pity you came to me!” - -The Reverend Francis Anstruther buttoned his glove carefully. - -“Oh, I do not regret it,” he said. “Any other man might perhaps feel -himself insulted, but----” - -“But you are too much of a ‘Christian’ to take offence--yes, I -daresay!” interposed El-Râmi satirically,--“I thank you for your -amiable forbearance! Allow me to close this interview”--and he was -about to ring the bell, when his visitor said hastily and with an -effort at appearing unconcerned-- - -“I suppose I may rely on your secrecy respecting what has passed?” - -“Secrecy?” and El-Râmi raised his black eyebrows disdainfully. “What -you call secrecy I know not. But if you mean that I shall speak of you -and your affairs,--why, make yourself quite easy on that score. I -shall not even think of you after you have left this room. Do not -attach too much importance to yourself, reverend sir,--true, your name -will soon be mentioned in the newspapers, but this should not excite -you to an undue vanity. As for me, I have other things to occupy me, -and clerical ‘cases of conscience,’ such as yours, fail to attract -either my wonder or admiration!” Here he touched the bell.--“Féraz!” -this as his young brother instantly appeared--“The door!” - -The Reverend Francis Anstruther took up his hat, looked into it, -glanced nervously round at the picturesque form of the silent Féraz, -then, with a sudden access of courage, looked at El-Râmi. That -handsome Oriental’s fiery eyes were fixed upon him,--the superb head, -the dignified figure, the stately manner, all combined to make him -feel uncomfortable and awkward; but he forced a faint smile--it was -evident he must say something. - -“You are a very remarkable man, Mr. ... El-Râmi”--he stammered. ... -“It has been a most interesting ... and ... instructive morning!” - -El-Râmi made no response other than a slight frigid bow. - -The clergyman again peered into the depths of his hat. - -“I will not go so far as to say you were correct in anything you -said”--he went on--“but there was a little truth in some of your -allusions,--they really applied, or might be made to apply, to past -events,--bygone circumstances ... you understand? ...” - -El-Râmi took one step towards him. - -“No more lies in Heaven’s name!” he said in a stern whisper. “The air -is poisoned enough for to-day. Go!” - -Such a terrible earnestness marked his face and voice that the -Reverend Francis retreated abruptly in alarm, and, stumbling out of -the room hastily, soon found himself in the open street with the great -oaken door of El-Râmi’s house shut upon him. He paused a moment, -glanced at the sky, then at the pavement, shook his head, drew a long -breath, and seemed on the verge of hesitation; then he looked at his -watch,--smiled a bland smile, and, hailing a cab, was driven to lunch -at the Criterion, where a handsome woman with dark hair and eyes met -him with mingled flattery and upbraiding, and gave herself pouting and -capricious airs of offence, because he had kept her ten minutes -waiting. - - - - - VII. - -That afternoon El-Râmi prepared to go out, as was his usual custom, -immediately after the mid-day meal, which was served to him by Féraz, -who stood behind his chair like a slave all the time he ate and drank, -attending to his needs with the utmost devotion and assiduity. Féraz -indeed was his brother’s only domestic,--Zaroba’s duties being -entirely confined to the mysterious apartments upstairs and their -still more mysterious occupant. El-Râmi was in a taciturn mood,--the -visit of the Reverend Francis Anstruther seemed to have put him out, -and he scarcely spoke, save in monosyllables. Before leaving the -house, however, his humour suddenly softened, and, noting the wistful -and timorous gaze with which Féraz regarded him, he laughed outright. - -“You are very patient with me, Féraz!” he said--“And I know I am as -sullen as a bear.” - -“You think too much;”--replied Féraz gently--“And you work too hard.” - -“Both thought and labour are necessary,” said El-Râmi--“You would not -have me live a life of merely bovine repose?” - -Féraz gave a deprecating gesture. - -“Nay--but surely rest is needful. To be happy, God Himself must -sometimes sleep.” - -“You think so?” and El-Râmi smiled--“Then it must be during His hours -of repose and oblivion that the business of life goes wrong, and -darkness and the spirit of confusion walk abroad. The Creator should -never sleep.” - -“Why not, if He has dreams?” asked Féraz--“For if Eternal Thought -becomes Substance, so a God’s Dream may become Life.” - -“Poetic as usual, my Féraz”--replied his brother--“and yet perhaps -you are not so far wrong in your ideas. That Thought becomes -Substance, even with man’s limited powers, is true enough;--the -thought of a perfect form grows up embodied in the weight and -substance of marble, with the sculptor,--the vague fancies of a poet, -being set in ink on paper, become substance in book-shape, solid -enough to pass from one hand to the other;--even so may a God’s mere -Thought of a world create a Planet. It is my own impression that -thoughts, like atoms, are imperishable, and that even dreams, being -forms of thought, never die. But I must not stay here talking,--adieu! -Do not sit up for me to-night--I shall not return,--I am going down to -the coast.” - -“To Ilfracombe?” questioned Féraz--“So long a journey, and all to see -that poor mad soul?” - -El-Râmi looked at him steadfastly. - -“No more ‘mad,’ Féraz, than you are with your notions about your -native star! Why should a scientist who amuses himself with the -reflections on a disc of magnetic crystal be deemed ‘mad’? Fifty years -ago the electric inventions of Edison would have been called -‘impossible,’--and he, the inventor, considered hopelessly insane. But -now we know these seeming ‘miracles’ are facts, we cease to wonder at -them. And my poor friend with his disc is a harmless creature;--his -‘craze,’ if it be a craze, is as innocent as yours.” - -“But I have no craze,”--said Féraz composedly,--“All that I know and -see lives in my brain like music,--and, though I remember it -perfectly, I trouble no one with the story of my past.” - -“And he troubles no one with what he deems may be the story of the -future”--said El-Râmi--“Call no one ‘mad’ because he happens to have -a new idea--for time may prove such ‘madness’ a merely perfected -method of reason. I must hasten, or I shall lose my train.” - -“If it is the 2.40 from Waterloo, you have time,” said Féraz--“It is -not yet two o’clock. Do you leave any message for Zaroba?” - -“None. She has my orders.” - -Féraz looked full at his brother, and a warm flush coloured his -handsome face. - -“Shall I never be worthy of your confidence?” he asked in a low -voice--“Can you never trust _me_ with your great secret, as well as -Zaroba?” - -El-Râmi frowned darkly. - -“Again, this vulgar vice of curiosity? I thought you were exempt from -it by this time.” - -“Nay, but hear me, El-Râmi”--said Féraz eagerly, distressed at the -anger in his brother’s eyes--“It is not curiosity,--it is something -else,--something that I can hardly explain, except. ... Oh, you will -only laugh at me if I tell you. ... but yet----” - -“But what?” demanded El-Râmi sternly. - -“It is as if a voice called me,”--answered Féraz dreamily--“a voice -from those upper chambers, which you keep closed, and of which only -Zaroba has the care--a voice that asks for freedom and for peace. It -is such a sorrowful voice,--but sweet,--more sweet than any singing. -True, I hear it but seldom,--only, when I do, it haunts me for hours -and hours. I know you are at some great work up there,--but can you -make such voices ring from a merely scientific laboratory? Now you are -angered!” - -His large soft brilliant eyes rested appealingly upon his brother, -whose features had grown pale and rigid. - -“Angered!” he echoed, speaking as it seemed with some effort,--“Am I -ever angered at your--your fancies? For fancies they are, Féraz,--the -voice you hear is like the imagined home in that distant star you -speak of,--an image and an echo on your brain--no more. My ‘great -work,’ as you call it, would have no interest for you;--it is nothing -but a test-experiment, which, if it fails, then I fail with it, and am -no more El-Râmi-Zarânos, but the merest fool that ever clamoured for -the moon.” He said this more to himself than to his brother, and -seemed for the moment to have forgotten where he was,--till suddenly -rousing himself with a start he forced a smile. - -“Farewell for the present, gentle visionary!” he said kindly,--“You -are happier with your dreams than I with my facts,--do not seek out -sorrow for yourself by rash and idle questioning.” - -With a parting nod he went out, and Féraz, closing the door after -him, remained in the hall for a few moments in a sort of vague -reverie. How silent the house seemed, he thought with a half-sigh. The -very atmosphere of it was depressing, and even his favourite -occupation, music, had just now no attraction for him. He turned -listlessly into his brother’s study,--he determined to read for an -hour or so, and looked about in search of some entertaining volume. On -the table he found a book open,--a manuscript, written on vellum in -Arabic, with curious uncanny figures and allegorical designs on the -headings and margins. El-Râmi had left it there by mistake,--it was a -particularly valuable treasure which he generally kept under lock and -key. Féraz sat down in front of it, and, resting his head on his two -hands, began to read at the page where it lay open. Arabic was his -native tongue,--yet he had some difficulty in making out this especial -specimen of the language, because the writing was anything but -distinct, and some of the letters had a very odd way of vanishing -before his eyes, just as he had fixed them on a word. This was -puzzling as well as irritating,--he must have something the matter -with his sight or his brain, he concluded, as these vanishing letters -always came into position again after a little. Worried by the -phenomenon, he seized the book and carried it to the full light of the -open window, and there succeeded in making out the meaning of one -passage which was quite sufficient to set him thinking. It ran as -follows:-- - - “Wherefore, touching illusions and impressions, as also strong - emotions of love, hatred, jealousy, or revenge, these nerve and brain - sensations are easily conveyed from one human subject to another by - Suggestion. The first process is to numb the optic nerve. This is done - in two ways--I. By causing the subject to fix his eyes steadily on a - round shining case containing a magnet, while you shall count two - hundred beats of time. II. By wilfully making your own eyes the - magnet, and fixing your subject thereto. Either of these operations - will temporarily paralyse the optic nerves, and arrest the motion of - the blood in the vessels pertaining. Thus the brain becomes insensible - to external impressions, and is only awake to internal suggestions, - which you may make as many and as devious as you please. Your subject - will see exactly what you choose him to see, hear what you wish him to - hear, do what you bid him do, so long as you hold him by your power, - which if you understand the laws of light, sound, and air-vibrations, - you may be able to retain for an indefinite period. The same force - applies to the magnetising of a multitude as of a single - individual.”[1] - -Féraz read this over and over again,--then, returning to the table, -laid the book upon it with a deeply engrossed air. It had given him -unpleasant matter for reflection. - -“A dreamer--a visionary, he calls me--” he mused, his thoughts -reverting to his absent brother--“Full of fancies poetic and -musical,--now can it be that I owe my very dreams to his dominance? -Does he _make_ me subservient to him, as I am, or is my submission to -his will my _own_ desire? Is my ‘madness’ or ‘craze,’ or whatever he -calls it, of _his_ working? and should I be more like other men if I -were separated from him? And yet what has he ever done to me, save -make me happy? Has he placed me under the influence of any magnet such -as this book describes? Certainly not that I am aware of. He has made -my inward spirit clearer of comprehension, so that I hear him call me -even by a thought,--I see and know beautiful things of which grosser -souls have no perception,--and am I not content?--Yes, surely I -am!--surely I should be,--though at times there seems a something -missing--a something to which I cannot give a name.” - -He sighed,--and again buried his head between his hands,--he was -conscious of a dreary sensation, unusual to his bright and fervid -nature,--the very sunshine streaming through the window seemed to lack -true brilliancy. Suddenly a hand was laid upon his shoulder,--he -started and rose to his feet with a bewildered air,--then smiled, as -he saw that the intruder was only Zaroba. - - - - - VIII. - -Only Zaroba,--gaunt, grim, fierce-eyed Zaroba, old and unlovely, yet -possessing withal an air of savage dignity, as she stood erect, her -amber-coloured robe bound about her with a scarlet girdle, and her -gray hair gathered closely under a small coif of the same vivid hue. -Her wrinkled visage had more animation in it than on the previous -night, and her harsh voice grew soft as she looked at the picturesque -glowing beauty of the young man beside her, and addressed him. - -“El-Râmi has gone?” she asked. - -Féraz nodded. He generally made her understand him either by signs, -or the use of the finger-alphabet, at which he was very dexterous. - -“On what quest?” she demanded. - -Féraz explained rapidly and mutely that he had gone to visit a friend -residing at a distance from town. - -“Then he will not return to-night;”--muttered Zaroba thoughtfully--“He -will not return to-night.” - -She sat down, and, clasping her hands across her knees, rocked herself -to and fro for some minutes in silence. Then she spoke, more to -herself than to her listener. - -“He is an angel or a fiend,” she said in low meditative accents. “Or -maybe he is both in one. He saved me from death once--I shall never -forget that. And by his power he sent me back to my native land last -night--I bound my black tresses with pearl and gold, and laughed and -sang,--I was young again!”--and with a sudden cry she raised her hands -above her head and clapped them fiercely together, so that the silver -bangles on her arms jangled like bells;--“As God liveth, I was young! -_You_ know what it is to be young”--and she turned her dark orbs half -enviously upon Féraz, who, leaning against his brother’s -writing-table, regarded her with interest and something of awe--“or -you should know it! To feel the blood leap in the veins, while the -happy heart keeps time like the beat of a joyous cymbal,--to catch the -breath and tremble with ecstasy as the eyes one loves best in the -world flash lightning-passion into your own,--to make companions of -the roses, and feel the pulses quicken at the songs of birds,--to -tread the ground so lightly as to scarcely know whether it is earth or -air--this is to be young!--young!--and I was young last night. My love -was with me,--my love, my more than lover--‘Zaroba, beautiful Zaroba!’ -he said, and his kisses were as honey on my lips--‘Zaroba, pearl of -passion! fountain of sweetness in a desert land!--thine eyes are fire -in which I burn my soul,--thy round arms the prison in which I lock my -heart! Zaroba, beautiful Zaroba!’--Beautiful! Ay!--through the power -of El-Râmi I was fair to see--last night! ... only last night!” - -Her voice sank down into a feeble wailing, and Féraz gazed at her -compassionately and in a little wonder,--he was accustomed to see her -in various strange and incomprehensible moods, but she was seldom so -excited as now. - -“Why do you not laugh?” she asked suddenly and with a touch of -defiance--“Why do you not laugh at me?--at me, the wretched -Zaroba,--old and unsightly--bent and wrinkled!--that I should dare to -say I was once beautiful!--It is a thing to make sport of--an old -forsaken woman’s dream of her dead youth.” - -With an impulsive movement that was as graceful as it was becoming, -Féraz, for sole reply, dropped on one knee beside her, and, taking -her wrinkled hand, touched it lightly but reverently with his lips. -She trembled, and great tears rose in her eyes. - -“Poor boy!” she muttered--“Poor child!--a child to me, and yet a man! -As God liveth, a man!” She looked at him with a curious steadfastness. -“Good Féraz, forgive me--I did you wrong--I know you would not mock -the aged, or make wanton sport of their incurable woes,--you are too -gentle. I would in truth you were less mild of spirit--less womanish -of heart!” - -“Womanish!” and Féraz leaped up, stung by the word, he knew not why. -His heart beat strangely--his blood tingled,--it seemed to him that if -he had possessed a weapon his instinct would have been to draw it -then. Never had he looked so handsome; and Zaroba, watching his -expression, clapped her withered hands in a sort of witch-like -triumph. - -“Ha!”--she cried--“The man’s mettle speaks! There is something more -than the dreamer in you then--something that will help you to explain -the mystery of your existence--something that says--‘Féraz, you are -the slave of destiny--up! be its master! Féraz, you sleep--awake!’” -and Zaroba stood up tall and imposing, with the air of an inspired -sorceress delivering a prophecy--“Féraz, you have manhood--prove -it!--Féraz, you have missed the one joy of life--Love!--Win it!” - -Féraz stared at her amazed. Her words were such as she had never -addressed to him before, and yet they moved him with a singular -uneasiness. Love? Surely he knew the meaning of love? It was an ideal -passion, like the lifting up of life in prayer. Had not his brother -told him that perfect love was unattainable on this planet?--and was -it not a word the very suggestions of which could only be expressed in -music? These thoughts ran through his mind while he stood inert and -wondering--then, rousing himself a little from the effects of Zaroba’s -outburst, he sat down at the table, and, taking up a pencil, wrote as -follows-- - - “You talk wildly, Zaroba--you cannot be well. Let me hear no more--you - disturb my peace. I know what love is--I know what life is. But the - best part of my life and love is not here,--but elsewhere.” - -Zaroba took the paper from his hand, read it, and tore it to bits in a -rage. - -“O foolish youth!” she exclaimed--“Your love is the love of a -Dream,--your life is the life of a Dream! You see with another’s -eyes--you think through another’s brain. You are a mere machine, -played upon by another’s will! But not for ever shall you be -deceived--not for ever,--” here she gave a slight start and looked -around her nervously as though she expected some one to enter the room -suddenly--“Listen! Come to me to-night,--to-night when all is dark and -silent,--when every sound in the outside street is stilled,--come to -me--and I will show you a marvel of the world!--one who, like you, is -the victim of a Dream!” She broke off abruptly and glanced from right -to left in evident alarm,--then, with a fresh impetus of courage, she -bent towards her companion again and whispered in his ear--“Come!” - -“But where?” asked Féraz in the language of signs. - -“Up yonder!” said Zaroba firmly, regardless of the utter amazement -with which Féraz greeted this answer--“Up, where El-Râmi hides his -great secret. Yes--I know he has forbidden you to venture there,--even -so has he forbidden me to speak of what he cherishes so closely,--but -are we slaves, you and I? Do you purpose always to obey him? So be it, -an you will? But if I were you,--a man--I would defy both gods and -fiends if they opposed my liberty of action. Do as it pleases you,--I, -Zaroba, have given you the choice,--stay and dream of life--or come -and live it! Till to-night--farewell!” - -She had reached the door and vanished through it, before Féraz could -demand more of her meaning,--and he was left alone, a prey to the most -torturing emotions. “The vulgar vice of curiosity!” That was the -phrase his brother had used to him scarcely an hour agone,--and yet, -here he was, yielding to a fresh fit of the intolerable desire that -had possessed him for years to know El-Râmi’s great secret. He -dropped wearily into a chair and thought all the circumstances over. -They were as follows:-- - -In the first place he had never known any other protector or friend -than his brother, who, being several years older than himself, had -taken sole charge of him after the almost simultaneous death of their -father and mother, an event which he knew had occurred somewhere in -the East, but how or when, he could not exactly remember, nor had he -ever been told much about it. He had always been very happy in -El-Râmi’s companionship, and had travelled with him nearly all over -the world,--and, though they had never been rich, they always had -sufficient wherewith to live comfortably, though how even this small -competence was gained Féraz never knew. There had been no particular -mystery about his brother’s life, however, till on one occasion, when -they were travelling together across the Syrian desert, where they had -come upon a caravan of half-starved Arab wanderers in dire distress -from want and sickness. Among them was an elderly woman at the extreme -point of death, and an orphan child named Lilith, who was also dying. -El-Râmi had suddenly, for no special reason, save kindness of heart -and compassion, offered his services as physician to the stricken -little party, and had restored the elderly woman, a widow, almost -miraculously to health and strength in a day or two. This woman was no -other than Zaroba. The sick child however, a girl of about twelve -years old, died. And here began the puzzle. On the day of this girl’s -death, El-Râmi, with sudden and inexplicable haste, had sent his -young brother on to Alexandria, bidding him there take ship -immediately for the Island of Cyprus, and carry to a certain monastery -some miles from Famagousta a packet of documents, which he stated were -of the most extraordinary value and importance. Féraz had obeyed, -and, according to further instructions, had remained as a visitor in -that Cyprian religious retreat, among monks unlike any other monks he -had ever seen or heard of, till he was sent for, whereupon, according -to command, he rejoined El-Râmi in London. He found him, somewhat to -his surprise, installed in the small house where they now were,--with -the woman Zaroba, whose presence was another cause of blank -astonishment, especially as she seemed to have nothing to do but keep -certain rooms upstairs in order. But all the questions Féraz poured -out respecting her, and everything that had happened since their -parting in the Syrian desert, were met by equivocal replies or -absolute silence on his brother’s part, and by and by the young man -grew accustomed to his position. Day by day he became more and more -subservient to El-Râmi’s will, though he could never quite comprehend -why he was so willingly submissive. Of course he knew that his brother -was gifted with certain powers of physical magnetism,--because he had -allowed himself to be practised upon, and he took a certain interest -in the scientific development of those powers, this being, as he quite -comprehended, one of the branches of study on which El-Râmi was -engaged. He knew that his brother could compel response to thought -from a distance,--but, as there were others of his race who could do -the same thing, and as that sort of mild hypnotism was largely -practised in the East, where he was born, he attached no special -importance to it. Endowed with various gifts of genius such as music -and poetry, and a quick perception of everything beautiful and -artistic, Féraz lived in a tranquil little Eden of his own,--and the -only serpent in it that now and then lifted its head to hiss doubt and -perplexity was the inexplicable mystery of those upstair rooms over -which Zaroba had guardianship. The merest allusion to the subject -excited El-Râmi’s displeasure; and during the whole time they had -lived together in that house, now nearly six years, he had not dared -to speak of it more than a very few times, while Zaroba, on her part, -had faithfully preserved the utmost secrecy. Now, she seemed disposed -to break the long-kept rules,--and Féraz knew not what to think of -it. - -“Is everything destiny, as El-Râmi says?” he mused--“Or shall I -follow my own desires in the face of destiny? Shall I yield to -temptation--or shall I overcome it? Shall I break his command,--lose -his affection and be a free man,--or shall I obey him still, and be -his slave? And what should I do with my liberty if I had it, I wonder? -Womanish! What a word! _Am_ I womanish?” He paced up and down the room -in sudden irritation and haughtiness;--the piano stood open, but its -ivory keys failed to attract him,--his brain was full of other -suggestions than the making of sweet harmony. - -“Do not seek out sorrow for yourself by rash and idle questioning.” - -So his brother had said at parting And the words rang in his ears as -he walked to and fro restlessly, thinking, wondering, and worrying his -mind with vague wishes and foreboding anxieties, till the shining -afternoon wore away and darkness fell. - - - - - IX. - -A rough night at sea,--but the skies were clear, and the great -worlds of God, which we call stars, throbbed in the heavens like -lustrous lamps, all the more brilliantly for there being no moon to -eclipse their glory. A high gale was blowing, and the waves dashed up -on the coast of Ilfracombe with an organ-like thud and roar as they -broke in high jets of spray, and then ran swiftly back again with a -soft swish and ripple suggestive of the downward chromatic scale -played rapidly on well-attuned strings. There was freshness and life -in the dancing wind;--the world seemed well in motion;--and, standing -aloft among the rocks, and looking down at the tossing sea, one could -realise completely the continuous whirl of the globe beneath one’s -feet, and the perpetual movement of the planet-studded heavens. High -above the shore, on a bare jutting promontory, a solitary house faced -seaward;--it was squarely built and surmounted with a tower, wherein -one light burned fitfully, its pale sparkle seeming to quiver with -fear as the wild wind fled past joyously, with a swirl and cry like -some huge sea-bird on the wing. It looked a dismal residence at its -best, even when the sun was shining,--but at night its aspect was -infinitely more dreary. It was an old house, and it enjoyed the -reputation of being haunted,--a circumstance which had enabled its -present owner to purchase the lease of it for a very moderate sum. He -it was who had built the tower, and, whether because of this piece of -extravagance or for other unexplained reasons, he had won for himself -personally almost as uncanny a reputation as the house had possessed -before he occupied it. A man who lived the life of a recluse,--who -seemed to have no relations with the outside world at all,--who had -only one servant (a young German, whom the shrewder gossips declared -was his “keeper”)--who lived on such simple fare as certainly would -never have contented a modern Hodge earning twelve shillings a week, -and who seemed to purchase nothing but strange astronomical and -geometrical instruments,--surely such a queer personage must either be -mad, or in league with some evil “secret society,”--the more -especially that he had had that tower erected, into which, after it -was finished, no one but himself ever entered, so far as the people of -the neighbourhood could tell. Under all these suspicious -circumstances, it was natural he should be avoided; and avoided he was -by the good folk of Ilfracombe, in that pleasantly diverting fashion -which causes provincial respectability to shudder away from the merest -suggestion of superior intelligence. - -And yet poor old Dr. Kremlin was a being not altogether to be -despised. His appearance was perhaps against him inasmuch as his -clothes were shabby, and his eyes rather wild,--but the expression of -his meagre face was kind and gentle, and a perpetual compassion for -everything and everybody seemed to vibrate in his voice and reflect -itself in his melancholy smile. He was deeply occupied--so he told a -few friends in Russia, where he was born--in serious scientific -investigations,--but the “friends,” deeming him mad, held aloof till -those investigations should become results. If the results proved -disappointing, there would be no need to notice him any more,--if -successful, why then, by a mystic process known only to themselves, -the “friends” would so increase and multiply that he would be quite -inconveniently surrounded by them. In the meantime, nobody wrote to -him, or came to see him, except El-Râmi; and it was El-Râmi now, -who, towards ten o’clock in the evening, knocked at the door of his -lonely habitation and was at once admitted with every sign of -deference and pleasure by the servant Karl. - -“I’m glad you’ve come, sir,”--said this individual cheerfully,--“The -Herr Doctor has not been out all day, and he eats less than ever. It -will do him good to see you.” - -“He is in the tower as usual, at work?” inquired El-Râmi, throwing -off his coat. - -Karl assented, with rather a doleful look,--and, opening the door of a -small dining-room, showed the supper-table laid for two. - -El-Râmi smiled. - -“It’s no good, Karl!” he said kindly--“It’s very well meant on your -part, but it’s no good at all. You will never persuade your master to -eat at this time of night, or me either. Clear all these things -away,--and make your mind easy,--go to bed and sleep. To-morrow -morning prepare as excellent a breakfast as you please--I promise you -we’ll do justice to it! Don’t look so discontented--don’t you know -that over-feeding kills the working capacity?” - -“And over-starving kills the man,--working capacity and -all”--responded Karl lugubriously--“However, I suppose you know best, -sir!” - -“In this case I do”--replied El-Râmi--“Your master expects me?” - -Karl nodded,--and El-Râmi, with a brief “good-night,” ascended the -staircase rapidly and soon disappeared. A door banged aloft--then all -was still. Karl sighed profoundly, and slowly cleared away the useless -supper. - -“Well! How wise men can bear to starve themselves just for the sake of -teaching fools, is more than I shall ever understand!” he said half -aloud--“But then I shall never be wise--I am an ass and always was. A -good dinner and a glass of good wine have always seemed to me better -than all the science going,--there’s a shameful confession of -ignorance and brutality together, if you like. ‘Where do you think you -will go to when you die, Karl?’ says the poor old Herr Doctor. And -what do _I_ say? I say--‘I don’t know, _mein Herr_--and I don’t care. -This world is good enough for me so long as I live in it.’ ‘But -afterwards, Karl,--afterwards?’ he says, with his gray head shaking. -And what do _I_ say? Why, I say--‘I can’t tell, _mein Herr_! but -whoever sent me Here will surely have sense enough to look after me -There!’ And he laughs, and his head shakes worse than ever. Ah! -Nothing can ever make me clever, and I’m very glad of it!” - -He whistled a lively tune softly, as he went to bed in his little -side-room off the passage, and wondered again, as he had wondered -hundreds of times before, what caused that solemn low humming noise -that throbbed so incessantly through the house, and seemed so loud -when everything else was still. It was a grave sound,--suggestive of a -long-sustained organ-note held by the pedal-bass;--the murmuring of -seas and rivers seemed in it, as well as the rush of the wind. Karl -had grown accustomed to it, though he did not know what it meant,--and -he listened to it, till drowsiness made him fancy it was the hum of -his mother’s spinning-wheel, at home in his native German village -among the pine-forests, and so he fell happily asleep. - -Meanwhile El-Râmi, ascending to the tower, knocked sharply at a small -nail-studded door in the wall. The mysterious murmuring noise was now -louder than ever,--and the knock had to be repeated three or four -times before it was attended to. Then the door was cautiously opened, -and the “Herr Doctor” himself looked out, his wizened, aged, -meditative face illumined like a Rembrandt picture by the small -hand-lamp he held in his hand. - -“Ah!--El-Râmi!” he said in slow yet pleased tones--“I thought it -might be you. And like ‘Bernardo’--you ‘come most carefully upon your -hour.’” - -He smiled, as one well satisfied to have made an apt quotation, and -opened the door more widely to admit his visitor. - -“Come in quickly,”--he said--“The great window is open to the skies, -and the wind is high,--I fear some damage from the draught,--come -in--come in!” - -His voice became suddenly testy and querulous,--and El-Râmi stepped -in at once without reply. Dr. Kremlin shut to the door carefully and -bolted it--then he turned the light of the lamp he carried full on the -dark handsome face and dignified figure of his companion. - -“You are looking well--well,”--he muttered,--“Not a shade -older--always sound and strong! Just Heavens!--if I had your physique, -I think, with Archimedes, that I could lift the world! But I am -getting very old,--the life in me is ebbing fast,--and I have not done -my work-- ... God! ... God! I have not done my work!” - -He clenched his hands, and his voice quavered down into a sound that -was almost a groan. El-Râmi’s black beaming eyes rested on him -compassionately. - -“You are worn out, my dear Kremlin,”--he said gently--“worn out and -exhausted with long toil. You shall sleep to-night. I have come -according to my promise, and I will do what I can for you. Trust -me--you shall not lose the reward of your life’s work by want of time. -You shall have time,--even leisure to complete your labours,--I will -give you ‘length of days’!” - -The elder man sank into a chair trembling, and rested his head wearily -on one hand. - -“You cannot;”--he said faintly--“you cannot stop the advance of death, -my friend! You are a very clever man--you have a far-reaching subtlety -of brain,--but your learning and wisdom must pause _there_--there at -the boundary-line of the grave. You cannot overstep it or penetrate -beyond it--you cannot slacken the pace of the on-rushing years;--no, -no! I shall be forced to depart with half my discovery uncompleted.” - -El-Râmi smiled,--a slightly derisive smile. - -“You, who have faith in so much that cannot be proved, are singularly -incredulous of a fact that _can_ be proved;”--he said--“Anyway, -whatever you choose to think, here I am in answer to your rather -sudden summons--and here is your saving remedy;--” and he placed a -gold-stoppered flask on the table near which they sat--“It is, or -might be called, a veritable distilled essence of time,--for it will -do what they say God cannot do, make the days spin backward!” - -Dr. Kremlin took up the flask curiously. - -“You are so positive of its action?” - -“Positive. I have kept one human creature alive and in perfect health -for six years on that vital fluid alone.” - -“Wonderful!--wonderful!”--and the old scientist held it close to the -light, where it seemed to flash like a diamond,--then he smiled -dubiously--“Am I the new Faust, and you Mephisto?” - -“Bah!” and El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders carelessly--“An old nurse’s -tale!--yet, like all old nurses’ tales and legends of every sort under -the sun, it is not without its grain of truth. As I have often told -you, there is really nothing imagined by the human brain that is not -possible of realisation, either here or hereafter. It would be a false -note and a useless calculation to allow thought to dwell on what -cannot be,--hence our airiest visions are bound to become facts in -time. All the same, I am not of such superhuman ability that I can -make you change your skin like a serpent, and blossom into youth and -the common vulgar lusts of life, which to the thinker must be -valueless. No. What you hold there will simply renew the tissues, and -gradually enrich the blood with fresh globules--nothing more,--but -that is all you need. Plainly and practically speaking, as long as the -tissues and the blood continue to renew themselves, you cannot die -except by violence.” - -“Cannot die!” echoed Kremlin, in stupefied wonder--“Cannot die?” - -“Except by violence--” repeated El-Râmi with emphasis, “Well!--and -what now? There is nothing really astonishing in the statement. Death -by violence is the only death possible to any one familiar with the -secrets of Nature, and there is more than one lesson to be learned -from the old story of Cain and Abel. The first death in the world, -according to that legend, was death by violence. Without violence, -life should be immortal, or at least renewable at pleasure.” - -“Immortal!” muttered Dr. Kremlin--“Immortal! Renewable at pleasure! My -God!--then I have time before me--plenty of time!” - -“You have, if you care for it--” said El-Râmi with a tinge of -melancholy in his accents--“and if you continue to care for it. Few -do, nowadays.” - -But his companion scarcely heard him. He was balancing the little -flask in his hand in wonderment and awe. - -“Death by violence?” he repeated slowly. “But, my friend, may not God -Himself use violence towards us? May He not snatch the unwilling soul -from its earthly tenement at an unexpected moment,--and so, all the -scheming and labour and patient calculation of years be ended in one -flash of time?” - -“God--if there be a God, which some are fain to believe there -is,--uses no violence--” replied El-Râmi--“Deaths by violence are due -to the ignorance, or brutality, or long-inherited foolhardiness and -interference of man alone.” - -“What of shipwreck?--storm?--lightning?”--queried Dr. Kremlin, still -playing with the flask he held. - -“You are not going to sea, are you?” asked El-Râmi smiling--“And -surely you, of all men, should know that even shipwrecks are due to a -lack of mathematical balance in shipbuilding. One little trifle of -exactitude, which is always missing, unfortunately,--one little -delicate scientific adjustment, and the fiercest storm and wind could -not prevail against the properly poised vessel. As for lightning--of -course people are killed by it if they persist in maintaining an erect -position like a lightning-rod or conductor, while the electrical -currents are in full play. If they were to lie flat down, as savages -do, they could not attract the descending force. But who, among -arrogant stupid men, cares to adopt such simple precautions? Any way, -I do not see that you need fear any of these disasters.” - -“No, no,”--said the old man meditatively, “I need not fear,--no, no! I -have nothing to fear.” - -His voice sank into silence. He and El-Râmi were sitting in a small -square chamber of the tower,--very narrow, with only space enough for -the one tiny table and two chairs which furnished it,--the walls were -covered with very curious maps, composed of lines and curves and -zigzag patterns, meaningless to all except Kremlin himself, whose -dreamy gaze wandered to them between-whiles with an ardent yearning -and anxiety. And ever that strange deep, monotonous humming noise -surged through the tower as of a mighty wheel at work, the vibration -of the sound seemed almost to shake the solid masonry, while mingling -with it now and again came the wild sea-bird cry of the wind. El-Râmi -listened. - -“And still it moves?” he queried softly, using almost the words of -Galileo,--“_e pur si muove_.” - -Dr. Kremlin looked up, his pale eyes full of a sudden fire and -animation. - -“Ay!--still it moves!” he responded with a touch of eager triumph in -his tone--“Still it moves--and still it sounds! The music of the -Earth, my friend!--the dominant note of all Nature’s melody! Hear -it!--round, full, grand, and perfect!--one tone in the ascending scale -of the planets,--the song of _one_ Star,--our Star--as it rolls on its -predestined way! Come!--come with me!” and he sprang up excitedly--“It -is a night for work;--the heavens are clear as a mirror,--come and see -my Dial of the Fates,--you have seen it before, I know, but there are -new reflexes upon it now,--new lines of light and colour,--ah, my good -El-Râmi, if you could solve _my_ problem, you would be soon wiser -than you are! Your gift of long life would be almost valueless -compared to my proof of what is beyond life----” - -“Yes--if the proof could be obtained--” interposed El-Râmi. - -“It shall be obtained!” cried Kremlin wildly--“It shall! I will not -die till the secret is won! I will wrench it out from the Holy of -Holies--I will pluck it from the very thoughts of God!” - -He trembled with the violence of his own emotions,--then passing his -hand across his forehead, he relapsed into sudden calm, and, smiling -gently, said again-- - -“Come!” - -El-Râmi rose at once in obedience to this request,--and the old man -preceded him to a high narrow door which looked like a slit in the -wall, and which he unbarred and opened with an almost jealous care. A -brisk puff of wind blew in their faces through the aperture, but this -subsided into mere cool freshness of air as they entered and stood -together within the great central chamber of the tower,--a lofty -apartment, where the strange work of Kremlin’s life was displayed in -all its marvellous complexity,--a work such as no human being had ever -attempted before, or would be likely to attempt again. - - - - - X. - -The singular object that at once caught and fixed the eye in -fascinated amazement, and something of terror, was a huge disc, -suspended between ceiling and floor by an apparently inextricable mesh -and tangle of wires. It was made of some smooth glittering substance -like crystal, and seemed from its great height and circumference to -occupy nearly the whole of the lofty tower-room. It appeared to be -lightly poised and balanced on a long steel rod,--a sort of gigantic -needle which hung from the very top of the tower. The entire surface -of the disc was a subdued blaze of light,--light which fluctuated in -waves and lines, and zigzag patterns like a kaleidoscope, as the -enormous thing circled round and round, as it did, with a sort of -measured motion, and a sustained solemn buzzing sound. Here was the -explanation of the mysterious noise that vibrated throughout the -house,--it was simply the movement of this round shield-like mass -among its wonderful network of rods and wires. Dr. Kremlin called it -his “crystal” disc,--but it was utterly unlike ordinary crystal, for -it not only shone with a transparent watery clearness, but possessed -the scintillating lustre of a fine diamond cut into numerous prisms, -so that El-Râmi shaded his eyes from the flash of it as he stood -contemplating it in silence. It swirled round and round steadily; -facing it, a large casement window, about the size of half the wall, -was thrown open to the night, and through this could be seen a myriad -sparkling stars. The wind blew in, but not fiercely now, for part of -the wrath of the gale was past,--and the wash of the sea on the beach -below had exactly the same tone in it as the monotonous hum of the -disc as it moved. At one side of the open window a fine telescope -mounted on a high stand pointed out towards the heavens,--there were -numerous other scientific implements in the room, but it was -impossible to take much notice of anything but the disc itself, with -its majestic motion and the solemn sound to which it swung. Dr. -Kremlin seemed to have almost forgotten El-Râmi’s presence,--going up -to the window, he sat down on a low bench in the corner, and folding -his arms across his breast gazed at his strange invention with a -fixed, wondering, and appealing stare. - -“How to unravel the meaning--how to decipher the message!” he -muttered--“Sphinx of my brain, tell me, is there no answer? Shall the -actual offspring of my thought refuse to clear up the riddle I -propound? Nay, is it possible the creature should baffle the creator? -See! the lines change again--the vibrations are altered,--the circle -is ever the circle, but the reflexes differ,--how can one separate or -classify them--how?” - -Thus far his half-whispered words were audible,--when El-Râmi came -and stood beside him. Then he seemed to suddenly recollect himself, -and, looking up, he rose to his feet and spoke in a perfectly calm and -collected manner. - -“You see”--he said, pointing to the disc with the air of a lecturer -illustrating his discourse--“To begin with, there is the fine -hair’s-breadth balance of matter which gives perpetual motion. Nothing -can stop that movement save the destruction of the whole piece of -mechanism. By some such subtly delicate balance as that, the Universe -moves,--and nothing can stop it save the destruction of the Universe. -Is not that fairly reasoned?” - -“Perfectly,” replied El-Râmi, who was listening with profound -attention. - -“Surely that of itself,--the secret of perpetual motion,--is a great -discovery, is it not?” questioned Kremlin eagerly. - -El-Râmi hesitated. - -“It is,” he said at last. “Forgive me if I paused a moment before -replying,--the reason of my doing so was this. You cannot claim to -yourself any actual discovery of perpetual motion, because that is -Nature’s own particular mystery. Perhaps I do not explain myself with -sufficient clearness,--well, what I mean to imply is this--namely, -that your wonderful dial there would not revolve as it does if the -Earth on which we stand were not also revolving. If we could imagine -our planet stopping suddenly in its course, your disc would stop -also,--is not that correct?” - -“Why, naturally!” assented Kremlin impatiently. “Its movement is -mathematically calculated to follow, in a slower degree, but with -rhythmical exactitude, the Earth’s own movement, and is so balanced as -to be absolutely accurate to the very half-quarter of a -hair’s-breadth.” - -“Yes,--and there is the chief wonder of your invention,” said El-Râmi -quietly. “It is that peculiarly precise calculation of yours that is -so marvellous, in that it enables you _to follow the course of -perpetual motion_. With perpetual motion itself you have nothing to -do,--you cannot find its why or its when or its how,--it is eternal as -Eternity. Things must move,--and we all move with them--your disc -included.” - -“But the moving things are balanced--so!” said Kremlin, pointing -triumphantly to his work--“On one point--one pivot!” - -“And that point----?” queried El-Râmi dubiously. - -“Is a Central Universe”--responded Kremlin--“where God abides.” - -El-Râmi looked at him with dark, dilating, burning eyes. - -“Suppose,” he said suddenly--“suppose--for the sake of argument--that -this Central Universe, you imagine exists, were but the outer covering -or shell of another Central Universe, and so on through innumerable -Central Universes for ever and ever and ever, and no point or pivot -reachable!” - -Kremlin uttered a cry, and clasped his hands with a gesture of terror. - -“Stop--stop!” he gasped--“Such an idea is frightful!--horrible! Would -you drive me mad?--mad, I tell you? No human brain could steadily -contemplate the thought of such pitiless infinity!” - -He sank back on the seat and rocked himself to and fro like a person -in physical pain, the while he stared at El-Râmi’s majestic figure -and dark meditative face as though he saw some demon in a dream. -El-Râmi met his gaze with a compassionate glance in his own eyes. - -“You are narrow, my friend,”--he observed--“as narrow of outward and -onward conception as most scientists are. I grant you the human brain -has limits; but the human Soul has none! There is no ‘pitiless -infinity’ to the Soul’s aspirations,--it is never contented,--but -eternally ambitious, eternally inquiring, eternally young, it is ready -to scale heights and depths without end, unconscious of fatigue or -satiety. What of a million million Universes? I--even I--can -contemplate them without dismay,--the brain may totter and reel at the -multiplicity of them,--but the Soul would absorb them all and yet -seek space for more!” - -His rich, deep, tranquil voice had the effect of calming Kremlin’s -excited nerves. He paused in his uneasy rocking to and fro, and -listened as though he heard music. - -“You are a bold man, El-Râmi,” he said slowly--“I have always said -it,--bold even to rashness. Yet with all your large ideas I find you -inconsistent; for example, you talk of the Soul now, as if you -believed in it,--but there are times when you declare yourself -doubtful of its existence.” - -“It is necessary to split hairs of argument with you, I see”--returned -El-Râmi with a slight smile,--“Can you not understand that I may -_believe_ in the Soul without being sure of it? It is the natural -instinct of every man to credit himself with immortality, because this -life is so short and unsatisfactory,--the notion may be a fault of -heritage perhaps, still it is implanted in us all the same. And I do -believe in the Soul,--but I require certainty to make my mere belief -an undeniable fact. And the whole business of my life is to establish -that fact provably, and beyond any sort of doubt whatever,--what -inconsistency do you find there?” - -“None--none--” said Kremlin hastily--“But you will not succeed,--yours -is too daring an attempt,--too arrogant and audacious a demand upon -the unknown forces.” - -“And what of the daring and arrogance displayed here?” asked El-Râmi, -with a wave of his hand towards the glittering disc in front of them. - -Kremlin jumped up excitedly. - -“No, no!--you cannot call the mere scientific investigation of natural -objects arrogant,” he said--“Besides, the whole thing is so very -simple after all. It is well known that every star in the heavens -sends forth perpetual radiations of light; which radiations in a given -number of minutes, days, months, or years, reach our Earth. It depends -of course on the distance between the particular star and our planet, -as to how long these light-vibrations take to arrive here. One ray -from some stars will occupy thousands of years in its course,--in -fact, the original planet from which it fell may be swept out of -existence before it has time to penetrate our atmosphere. All this is -in the lesson-books of children, and is familiar to every beginner in -the rudiments of astronomy. But apart from time and distance, there is -_no cessation_ to these light-beats or vibrations; they keep on -arriving for ever, without an instant’s pause. Now my great idea was, -as you know, to catch these reflexes on a mirror or dial of magnetic -spar,--and you see for yourself that this thing, which seemed -impossible, is to a certain extent done. Magnetic spar is not a new -substance to you, any more than it was to the Egyptian priests of -old--and the quality it has, of attracting light in its exact lines -wherever light falls, is no surprise to you, though it might seem a -marvel to the ignorant. Every little zigzag or circular flash on that -disc is a vibration of light from some star,--but what puzzles and -confounds my skill is this;--That there is a meaning in those lines--a -distinct meaning which asks to be interpreted,--a picture which is -ever on the point of declaring itself, and is never declared. Mine is -the torture of a Tantalus watching night after night that mystic -dial!” - -He went close up to the disc, and pointed out one particular spot on -its surface where at that moment there was a glittering tangle of -little prismatic tints. - -“Observe this with me--” he said, and El-Râmi approached him--“Here -is a perfect cluster of light-vibrations,--in two minutes by my watch -they will be here no longer,--and a year or more may pass before they -appear again. From what stars they fall, and why they have deeper -colours than most of the reflexes, I cannot tell. There--see!” and he -looked round with an air of melancholy triumph, mingled with wonder, -as the little spot of brilliant colour suddenly disappeared like the -moisture of breath from a mirror--“They are gone! I have seen them -four times only since the disc was balanced twelve years ago,--and I -have tried in every way to trace their origin--in vain--all, all in -vain! If I could only decipher the meaning!--for as sure as God lives -there is a meaning there.” - -El-Râmi was silent, and Dr. Kremlin went on. - -“The air is a conveyer of Sound--” he said meditatively--“The light is -a conveyer of Scenes. Mark that well. The light may be said to create -landscape and generate Colour. Reflexes of light make -pictures,--witness the instantaneous flash, which, with the aid of -chemistry, will give you a photograph in a second. I firmly believe -that all reflexes of light are so many letters of a marvellous -alphabet, which, if we could only read it, would enable us to grasp -the highest secrets of creation. The seven tones of music, for -example, are in Nature;--in any ordinary storm, where there is wind -and rain and the rustle of leaves, you can hear the complete scale on -which every atom of musical composition has ever been written. Yet -what ages it took us to reduce that scale to a visible tangible -form,--and even now we have not mastered the _quarter-tones_ heard in -the songs of birds. And just as the whole realm of music is in seven -tones of natural Sound, so the whole realm of light is in a pictured -language of Design, Colour, and Method, with an intention and a -message, which _we_--we human beings--are intended to discover. Yet, -with all these great mysteries waiting to be solved, the most of us -are content to eat and drink and sleep and breed and die, like the -lowest cattle, in brutish ignorance of more than half our intellectual -privileges. I tell you, El-Râmi, if I could only find out and place -correctly _one_ of those light-vibrations, the rest might be easy.” - -He heaved a profound sigh,--and the great disc, circling steadily with -its grave monotonous hum, might have passed for the wheel of Fate -which he, poor mortal, was powerless to stop though it should grind -him to atoms. - -El-Râmi watched him with interest and something of compassion for a -minute or two,--then he touched his arm gently. - -“Kremlin, is it not time for you to rest?” he asked kindly--“You have -not slept well for many nights,--you are tired out,--why not sleep -now, and gather strength for future labours?” - -The old man started, and a slight shiver ran through him. - -“You mean----?” he began. - -“I mean to do for you what I promised--” replied El-Râmi, “You asked -me for this--” and he held up the gold-stoppered flask he had brought -in with him from the next room--“It is all ready prepared for -you--drink it, and to-morrow you will find yourself a new man.” - -Dr. Kremlin looked at him suspiciously--and then began to laugh with a -sort of hysterical nervousness. - -“I believe--” he murmured indistinctly and with affected -jocularity--“I believe that you want to poison me! Yes--yes!--to -poison me and take all my discoveries for yourself! You want to solve -the great Star-problem and take all the glory and rob me--yes, rob me -of my hard-earned fame!--yes--it is poison--poison!” - -And he chuckled feebly, and hid his face between his hands. - -El-Râmi heard him with an expression of pain and pity in his fine -eyes. - -“My poor old friend--” he said gently--“You are wearied to death--so I -pardon you your sudden distrust of me. As for poison--see!” and he -lifted the flask he held to his lips and drank a few drops--“Have no -fear! Your Star-problem is your own,--and I desire that you should -live long enough to read its great mystery. As for me, I have other -labours;--to me stars, solar systems, ay! whole universes are -nothing,--my business is with the Spirit that dominates Matter--not -with Matter itself. Enough;--will you live or will you die? It rests -with yourself to choose--for you are ill, Kremlin--very ill,--your -brain is fagged and weak--you cannot go on much longer like this. Why -did you send for me if you do not believe in me?” - -The old Doctor tottered to the window-bench and sat down,--then -looking up, he forced a smile. - -“Don’t you see for yourself what a coward I have become?” he said--“I -tell you I am afraid of everything;--of you--of myself--and worst of -all, of _that_--” and he pointed to the disc--“which lately seems to -have grown stronger than I am.” He paused a moment--then went on with -an effort--“I had a strange idea the other night,--I thought, suppose -God, in the beginning, created the universe simply to divert -Himself--just as I created my dial there;--and suppose it had happened -that instead of being His servant, as He originally intended, it had -become His master?--that He actually had no more power over it? -Suppose He were _dead_? We see that the works of men live ages after -their death,--why not the works of God? Horrible--horrible! Death is -horrible! I do not want to die, El-Râmi!” and his faint voice rose to -a querulous wail, “Not yet--not yet! I cannot!--I must finish my -work--I must know--I must live----” - -“You shall live,” interrupted El-Râmi. “Trust me--there is no death -in _this_!” - -He held up the mysterious flask again. Kremlin stared at it, shaking -all over with nervousness--then on a sudden impulse clutched it. - -“Am I to drink it all?” he asked faintly. - -El-Râmi bent his head in assent. - -Kremlin hesitated a moment longer--then, with the air of one who takes -a sudden desperate resolve, he gave one eager yearning look at the -huge revolving disc, and, putting the flask to his lips, drained its -contents. He had scarcely swallowed the last drop, when he sprang to -his feet, uttered a smothered cry, staggered, and fell on the floor -motionless. El-Râmi caught him up at once, and lifted him easily in -his strong arms on to the window-seat, where he laid him down gently, -placing coverings over him and a pillow under his head. The old man’s -face was white and rigid as the face of a corpse, but he breathed -easily and quietly, and El-Râmi, knowing the action of the draught he -had administered, saw there was no cause for anxiety in his condition. -He himself leaned on the sill of the great open window and looked out -at the starlit sky for some minutes, and listened to the sonorous -plashing of the waves on the shore below. Now and then he glanced back -over his shoulder at the great dial and its shining star-patterns. - -“Only Lilith could decipher the meaning of it all,” he mused. -“Perhaps,--some day--it might be possible to ask her. But then, do I -in truth believe what she tells me?--would _he_ believe? The -transcendentally uplifted soul of a woman!--ought we to credit the -message obtained through so ethereal a means? I doubt it. We men are -composed of such stuff that we must convince ourselves of a fact by -every known test before we finally accept it,--like St. Thomas, unless -we put our rough hand into the wounded side of Christ, and thrust our -fingers into the nail-prints, we will not believe. And I shall never -resolve myself as to which is the wisest course,--to accept everything -with the faith of a child, or dispute everything with the arguments of -a controversialist. The child is happiest; but then the question -arises--Were we meant to be happy? I think not,--since there is -nothing that can make us so for long.” - -His brow clouded and he stood absorbed, looking at the stars, yet -scarcely conscious of beholding them. Happiness! It had a sweet -sound,--an exquisite suggestion; and his thoughts clung round it -persistently as bees round honey. Happiness!--What could engender it? -The answer came unbidden to his brain--“Love!” He gave an involuntary -gesture of irritation, as though some one had spoken the word in his -ear. - -“Love!” he exclaimed half aloud. “There is no such thing--not on -earth. There is Desire,--the animal attraction of one body for -another, which ends in disgust and satiety. Love should have no touch -of coarseness in it,--and can anything be coarser than the -marriage-tie?--the bond which compels a man and woman to live together -in daily partnership of bed and board, and reproduce their kind like -pigs, or other common cattle. To call that _love_ is a sacrilege to -the very name,--for Love is a divine emotion, and demands divinest -comprehension.” - -He went up to where Kremlin lay reclined,--the old man slept -profoundly and peacefully,--his face had gained colour and seemed less -pinched and meagre in outline. El-Râmi felt his pulse,--it beat -regularly and calmly. Satisfied with his examination, he wheeled away -the great telescope into a corner, and shut the window against the -night air,--then he lay down himself on the floor, with his coat -rolled under him for a pillow, and composed himself to sleep till -morning. - - - - - XI. - -The next day dawned in brilliant sunshine; the sea was as smooth as -a lake, and the air pleasantly warm and still. Dr. Kremlin’s servant -Karl got up in a very excellent humour,--he had slept well, and he -awoke with the comfortable certainty of finding his eccentric master -in better health and spirits, as this was always the case after one of -El-Râmi’s rare visits. And Karl, though he did not much appreciate -learning, especially when the pursuit of it induced people, as he -said, to starve themselves for the sake of acquiring wisdom, did feel -in his own heart that there was something about El-Râmi that was not -precisely like other men, and he had accordingly for him not only a -great attraction, but a profound respect. - -“If anybody can do the Herr Doctor good, he can--” he thought, as he -laid the breakfast-table in the little dining-room whose French -windows opened out to a tiny green lawn fronting the sea,--“Certainly -one can never cure old age,--that is an ailment for which there is no -remedy; but however old we are bound to get, I don’t see why we should -not be merry over it and enjoy our meals to the last. Now let me -see--what have I to get ready--” and he enumerated on his -fingers--“Coffee--toast--rolls,--butter--eggs--fish,--I think that -will do;--and if I just put these few roses in the middle of the table -to tempt the eye a bit,”--and he suited the action to the word--“There -now!--if the Herr Doctor can be pleased at all----” - -“Breakfast, Karl! breakfast!” interrupted a clear cheerful voice, the -sound of which made Karl start with nervous astonishment. “Make haste, -my good fellow! My friend here has to catch an early train.” - -Karl turned round, stared, and stood motionless, open-mouthed, and -struck dumb with sheer surprise. Could it be the old Doctor who spoke? -Was it his master at all,--this hale, upright, fresh-faced individual -who stood before him, smiling pleasantly and giving his orders with -such a brisk air of authority? Bewildered and half afraid, he cast a -desperate glance at El-Râmi, who had also entered the room, and who, -seeing his confusion, made him a secret sign. - -“Yes--be as quick as you can, Karl,” he said. “Your master has had a -good night, and is much better, as you see. We shall be glad of our -breakfast; I told you we should, last night. Don’t keep us waiting!” - -“Yes, sir--no, sir!” stammered Karl, trying to collect his scattered -senses and staring again at Dr. Kremlin,--then, scarcely knowing -whether he was on his head or his heels, he scrambled out of the room -into the passage, where he stood for a minute stupefied and inert. - -“It must be devils’ work!” he ejaculated amazedly. “Who but the devil -could make a man look twenty years younger in a single night? -Yes--twenty years younger,--he looks that if he looks a day. God have -mercy on us!--what will happen next--what sort of a service have I got -into?--Oh, my poor mother!” - -This last was Karl’s supremest adjuration,--when he could find nothing -else to say, the phrase “Oh, my poor mother!” came as naturally to his -lips as the familiar “D----n it!” from the mouth of an old swaggerer -in the army or navy. He meant nothing by it, except perhaps a vague -allusion to the innocent days of his childhood, when he was ignorant -of the wicked ways of the wicked world, and when “Oh, my poor mother!” -had not the most distant idea as to what was going to become of her -hopeful first-born. - -Meantime, while he went down into the kitchen and bustled about there, -getting the coffee, frying the fish, boiling the eggs, and cogitating -with his own surprised and half-terrified self, Dr. Kremlin and his -guest had stepped out into the little garden together, and they now -stood there on the grass-plot surveying the glittering wide expanse of -ocean before them. They spoke not a word for some minutes,--then, all -at once, Kremlin turned round and caught both El-Râmi’s hands in his -own and pressed them fervently--there were tears in his eyes. - -“What can I say to you?” he murmured in a voice broken by strong -emotion--“How can I thank you? You have been as a god to me;--I live -again,--I breathe again,--this morning the world seems new to my -eyes,--as new as though I had never seen it before. I have left a -whole cycle of years, with all their suffering and bitterness, behind -me, and I am ready now to commence life afresh.” - -“That is well!” said El-Râmi gently, cordially returning the pressure -of his hands. “That is as it should be. To see your strength and -vitality thus renewed is more than enough reward for me.” - -“And do I really _look_ younger?--am I actually changed in -appearance?” asked Kremlin eagerly. - -El-Râmi smiled. “Well, you saw poor Karl’s amazement”--he replied. -“He was afraid of you, I think--and also of me. Yes, you are changed, -though not miraculously so. Your hair is as gray as ever,--the same -furrows of thought are on your face;--all that has occurred is the -simple renewal of the tissues, and revivifying of the blood,--and this -gives you the look of vigour and heartiness you have this morning.” - -“But will it last?--will it last?” queried Kremlin anxiously. - -“If you follow my instructions, of course it will--” returned -El-Râmi--“I will see to that. I have left with you a certain quantity -of the vital fluid,--all you have to do is to take ten drops every -third night, or inject it into your veins if you prefer that -method;--then,--as I told you,--you cannot die, except by violence.” - -“And no violence comes here”--said Kremlin with a smile, glancing -round at the barren yet picturesque scene--“I am as lonely as an -unmated eagle on a rock,--and the greater my solitude the happier I -am. The world is very beautiful--that I grant,--but the beings that -inhabit it spoil it for me, albeit I am one of them. And so I cannot -die, except by violence? Almost I touch immortality! Marvellous -El-Râmi! You should be a king of nations!” - -“Too low a destiny!” replied El-Râmi--“I’d rather be a ruler of -planets.” - -“Ah, there is your stumbling-block!” said Kremlin, with sudden -seriousness,--“You soar too high--you are never contented.” - -“Content is impossible to the Soul”--returned El-Râmi,--“Nothing is -too high or too low for its investigation. And whatever _can_ be done, -_should_ be done, in order that the whole gamut of life may be -properly understood by those who are forced to live it.” - -“And do not you understand it?” - -“In part--yes. But not wholly. It is not sufficient to have traced the -ripple of a brain-wave through the air and followed its action and -result with exactitude,--nor is it entirely satisfactory to have all -the secrets of physical and mental magnetism, and attraction between -bodies and minds, made clear and easy without knowing the _reason_ of -these things. It is like the light vibrations on your disc,--they -come--and go; but one needs to know why and whence they come and go. I -know much--but I would fain know more.” - -“But is not the pursuit of knowledge infinite?” - -“It may be--_if_ infinity exists. Infinity is possible--and I believe -in it,--all the same I must prove it.” - -“You will need a thousand lifetimes to fulfil such works as you -attempt!” exclaimed Kremlin. - -“And I will live them all;”--responded El-Râmi composedly--“I have -sworn to let nothing baffle me, and nothing shall!” - -Dr. Kremlin looked at him in vague awe,--the dark, haughty, handsome -face spoke more resolvedly than words. - -“Pardon me, El-Râmi”--he said with a little diffidence--“It seems a -very personal question to put, and possibly you may resent it, still I -have often thought of asking it. You are a very handsome and very -fascinating man--you would be a fool if you were not perfectly aware -of your own attractiveness,--well, now tell me--have you never loved -anybody?--any woman?” - -The sleepy brilliancy of El-Râmi’s fine eyes lightened with sudden -laughter. - -“Loved a woman?--_I_?” he exclaimed--“The Fates forbid! What should I -do with the gazelles and kittens and toys of life, such as women are? -Of all animals on earth, they have the least attraction for me. I -would rather stroke a bird’s wings than a woman’s hair, and the -fragrance of a rose pressed against my lips is sweeter and more -sincere than any woman’s kisses. As the females of the race, women are -useful in their way, but not interesting at any time--at least, not to -me.” - -“Do you not believe in love then?” asked Kremlin. - -“No. Do you?” - -“Yes,”--and Kremlin’s voice was very tender and impressive--“I believe -it is the only thing of God in an almost godless world.” - -El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders. - -“You talk like a poet. I, who am not poetical, cannot so idealise the -physical attraction between male and female, which is nothing but a -law of nature, and is shared by us in common with the beasts of the -field.” - -“I think your wisdom is in error there”--said Kremlin -slowly--“Physical attraction there is, no doubt--but there is -something else--something more subtle and delicate, which escapes the -analysis of both philosopher and scientist. Moreover it is an -imperative spiritual sense, as well as a material craving,--the soul -can no more be satisfied without love than the body.” - -“That is your opinion--” and El-Râmi smiled again,--“But you see a -contradiction of it in me. _I_ am satisfied to be without love,--and -certainly I never look upon the ordinary woman of the day without the -disagreeable consciousness that I am beholding the living essence of -sensualism and folly.” - -“You are very bitter,” said Kremlin wonderingly--“Of course no -‘ordinary’ woman could impress you,--but there are remarkable -women,--women of power and genius and lofty ambition.” - -“Les femmes incomprises--oh yes, I know!” laughed -El-Râmi--“Troublesome creatures all, both to themselves and others. -Why do you talk on these subjects, my dear Kremlin?--Is it the effect -of your rejuvenated condition? I am sure there are many more -interesting matters worthy of discussion. I shall never love--not in -this planet; in some other state of existence I may experience the -‘divine’ emotion. But the meannesses, vanities, contemptible -jealousies, and low spites of women such as inhabit this earth fill me -with disgust and repulsion,--besides, women are treacherous,--and I -loathe treachery.” - -At that moment Karl appeared at the dining-room window as a sign that -breakfast was served, and they turned to go indoors. - -“All the same, El-Râmi--” persisted Kremlin, laying one hand on his -friend’s arm--“Do not count on being able to escape the fate to which -all humanity must succumb----” - -“Death?” interposed El-Râmi lightly--“I have almost conquered that!” - -“Ay, but you cannot conquer Love!” said Kremlin impressively--“Love is -stronger than Death.” - -El-Râmi made no answer,--and they went in to breakfast. They did full -justice to the meal, much to Karl’s satisfaction, though he could not -help stealing covert glances at his master’s changed countenance, -which had become so much fresher and younger since the previous day. -How such a change had been effected he could not imagine, but on the -whole he was disposed to be content with the evident improvement. - -“Even if he is the devil himself--” he considered, his thoughts -reverting to El-Râmi--“I am bound to say that the devil is a -kind-hearted fellow. There’s no doubt about that. I suppose I am an -abandoned sinner only fit for the burning--but if God insists on -making us old and sick and miserable, and the devil is able to make us -young and strong and jolly, why let us be friends with the devil, say -I! Oh, my poor mother!” - -With such curious emotions as these in his mind, it was rather -difficult to maintain a composed face, and wait upon the two gentlemen -with that grave deportment which it is the duty of every well-trained -attendant to assume,--however, he managed fairly well, and got -accustomed at last to hand his master a cup of coffee without staring -at him till his eyes almost projected out of his head. - -El-Râmi took his departure soon after breakfast, with a few -recommendations to his friend not to work too hard on the problems -suggested by the disc. - -“Ah, but I have now found a new clue,” said Kremlin triumphantly--“I -found it in sleep. I shall work it out in the course of a few weeks, I -daresay--and I will let you know if the result is successful. You see, -thanks to you, my friend, I have time now,--there is no need to toil -with feverish haste and anxiety--death, that seemed so near, is thrust -back in the distance----” - -“Even so!” said El-Râmi with a strange smile--“In the far, far -distance,--baffled and kept at bay. Oddly enough, there are some who -say there is no death----” - -“But there is--there must be!--” exclaimed Kremlin quickly. - -El-Râmi raised his hand with a slight commanding gesture. - -“It is not a certainty--” he said--“inasmuch as there is no -certainty. And there is no ‘Must-be,’--there is only the Soul’s -‘Shall-be’!” - -And with these somewhat enigmatical words he bade his friend farewell, -and went his way. - - - - - XII. - -It was yet early in the afternoon when he arrived back in London. He -went straight home to his own house, letting himself in as usual with -his latch-key. In the hall he paused, listening. He half expected to -hear Féraz playing one of his delicious dreamy improvisations,--but -there was not a sound anywhere, and the deep silence touched him with -an odd sense of disappointment and vague foreboding. His study door -stood slightly ajar,--he pushed it wider open very noiselessly and -looked in. His young brother was there, seated in a chair near the -window, reading. El-Râmi gazed at him dubiously, with a slowly -dawning sense that there was some alteration in his appearance which -he could not all at once comprehend. Presently he realised that Féraz -had evidently yielded to some overwhelming suggestion of personal -vanity, which had induced him to put on more brilliant attire. He had -changed his plain white linen garb for one of richer material, -composed in the same Eastern fashion,--he wore a finely-chased gold -belt, from which a gold-sheathed dagger depended,--and a few gold -ornaments gleamed here and there among the drawn silken folds of his -upper vest. He looked handsome enough for a new Agathon as he sat -there apparently absorbed in study,--the big volume he perused resting -partly on his knee,--but El-Râmi’s brow contracted with sudden anger -as he observed him from the half-open doorway where he stood, himself -unseen,--and his dark face grew very pale. He threw the door back on -its hinges with a clattering sound and entered the room. - -“Féraz!” - -Féraz looked up, lifting his eyelids indifferently and smiling -coldly. - -“What, El-Râmi! Back so early? I did not expect you till nightfall.” - -“Did you not?” said his brother, advancing slowly--“Pray how was that? -You know I generally return after a night’s absence early in the next -day. Where is your usual word of welcome? What ails you? You seem in a -very odd humour!” - -“Do I?”--and Féraz stretched himself a little,--rose, yawning, and -laid down the volume he held on the table--“I am not aware of it -myself, I assure you. How did you find your old madman? And did you -tell him you were nearly as mad as he?” - -El-Râmi’s eyes flashed indignant amazement and wrath. - -“Féraz!--What do you mean?” - -With a fierce impulsive movement Féraz turned and fully faced -him,--all his forced and feigned calmness gone to the winds,--a -glowing picture of youth and beauty and rage commingled. - -“What do I mean?” he cried--“I mean this! That I am tired of being -your slave--your ‘subject’ for conjurer’s tricks of mesmerism,--that -from henceforth I resist your power,--that I will not serve you--will -not obey you--will not yield--no!--not an inch of my liberty--to your -influence,--that I am a free man, as you are, and that I will have the -full rights of both my freedom and manhood. You shall play no more -with me; I refuse to be your dupe as I have been. This is what I -mean!--and as I will have no deception or subterfuge between us,--for -I scorn a lie,--hear the truth from me at once;--I know your secret--I -have seen Her!” - -El-Râmi stood erect,--immovable;--he was very pale; his breath came -and went quickly--once his hand clenched, but he said nothing. - -“I have seen Her!” cried Féraz again, flinging up his arms with an -ecstatic wild gesture--“A creature fairer than any vision!--and -you--you have the heart to bind her fast in darkness and in -nothingness,--you it is who have shut her sight to the world,--you -have made for her, through your horrible skill, a living death in -which she knows nothing, feels nothing, sees nothing, loves nothing! I -tell you it is a cursed deed you are doing,--a deed worse than -murder--I would not have believed it of you! I thought your -experiments were all for good,--I never would have deemed you capable -of cruelty to a helpless woman! But I will release her from your -spells,--she is too beautiful to be made her own living -monument,--Zaroba is right--she needs life--joy--love!--she shall have -them all;--through _me_!” - -He paused, out of breath with the heat and violence of his own -emotions;--El-Râmi stood, still immovably regarding him. - -“You may be as angered as you please”--went on Féraz with sullen -passion--“I care nothing now. It was Zaroba who bade me go up yonder -and see her where she slept; ... it was Zaroba----” - -“‘The woman tempted me and I did eat--’” quoted El-Râmi coldly,--“Of -course it was Zaroba. No other than a woman could thus break a sworn -word. Naturally it was Zaroba,--the paid and kept slave of my service, -who owes to me her very existence,--who persuaded my brother to -dishonour.” - -“Dishonour!” and Féraz laid his hand with a quick, almost savage -gesture on the hilt of the dagger at his belt. El-Râmi’s dark eyes -blazed upon him scornfully. - -“So soon a braggart of the knife?” he said. “What theatrical show is -this? You--you--the poet, the dreamer, the musician--the gentle lad -whose life was one of peaceful and innocent reverie--are you so soon -changed to the mere swaggering puppy of manhood who pranks himself out -in gaudy clothing, and thinks by vulgar threatening to overawe his -betters? If so, ’tis a pity--but I shall not waste time in deploring -it. Hear me, Féraz--I said ‘dishonour,’--swallow the word as best you -may, it is the only one that fits the act of prying into secrets not -your own. But I am not angered,--the mischief wrought is not beyond -remedy, and if it were there would be still less use in bewailing it. -What is done cannot be undone. Now tell me,--you say you have seen -Her. _Whom_ have you seen?” - -Féraz regarded him amazedly. - -“Whom have I seen?” he echoed--“Whom should I see, if not the girl you -keep locked in those upper rooms,--a beautiful maiden, sleeping her -life away, in cruel darkness and ignorance of all things true and -fair!” - -“An enchanted princess, to your fancy--” said El-Râmi derisively. -“Well, if you thought so, and if you believed yourself to be a new -sort of Prince Charming, why, if she were only sleeping, did you not -wake her?” - -“Wake her?” exclaimed Féraz excitedly.--“Oh, I would have given my -life to see those fringed lids uplift and show the wonders of the eyes -beneath! I called her by every endearing name--I took her hands and -warmed them in my own--I would have kissed her lips----” - -“You dared not!” cried El-Râmi, fired beyond his own control, and -making a fierce bound towards him--“You dared not pollute her by your -touch!” - -Féraz recoiled,--a sudden chill ran through his blood. His brother -was transformed with the passion that surged through him,--his eyes -flashed--his lips quivered--his very form seemed to tower up and -tremble and dilate with rage. - -“El-Râmi!” he stammered nervously, feeling all his newly-born -defiance and bravado oozing away under the terrible magnetism of this -man, whose fury was nearly as electric as that of a sudden -thunderstorm,--“El-Râmi, I did no harm,--Zaroba was there beside -me----” - -“Zaroba!” echoed El-Râmi furiously--“Zaroba would stand by and see an -angel violated, and think it the greatest happiness that could befall -her sanctity! To be of common clay, with household joys and kitchen -griefs, is Zaroba’s idea of noble living. Oh rash unhappy Féraz! you -say you know my secret--you do not know it--you cannot guess it! -Foolish, ignorant boy!--did you think yourself a new Christ with power -to raise the Dead?” - -“The dead?” muttered Féraz, with white lips--“The dead? She--the girl -I saw--lives and breathes ...” - -“By _my_ will alone!” said El-Râmi--“By my force--by my knowledge--by -my constant watchful care,--by my control over the subtle threads that -connect Spirit with Matter. Otherwise, according to all the laws of -ordinary nature, that girl is _dead_--she died in the Syrian desert -six years ago!” - - - - - XIII. - -At these words, pronounced slowly and with emphatic distinctness, -Féraz staggered back dizzily and sank into a chair,--drops of -perspiration bedewed his forehead, and a sick faint feeling overcame -him. He said nothing,--he could find no words in which to express his -mingled horror and amazement. El-Râmi watched him keenly,--and -presently Féraz, looking up, caught the calm, full, and fiery regard -of his brother’s eyes. With a smothered cry, he raised his hands as -though to shield himself from a blow. - -“I will not have it;”--he muttered faintly--“You shall not force my -thoughts,--I will believe nothing against my own will. You shall no -longer delude my eyes and ears--I have read--I know,--I know how such -trickery is done!” - -El-Râmi uttered an impatient exclamation, and paced once or twice up -and down the room. - -“See here, Féraz;”--he said, suddenly stopping before the chair in -which his brother sat,--“I swear to you that I am not exercising one -iota of my influence upon you. When I do, I will tell you that you may -be prepared to resist me if you choose. I am using no power of any -kind upon you--be satisfied of that. But, as you have forced your way -into the difficult labyrinth of my life’s work, it is as well that you -should have an explanation of what seems to you full of mysterious -evil and black magic. You accuse me of wickedness,--you tell me I am -guilty of a deed worse than murder. Now this is mere rant and -nonsense,--you speak in such utter ignorance of the facts that I -forgive you, as one is bound to forgive all faults committed through -sheer want of instruction. I do not think I am a wicked man”--he -paused, with an earnest, almost pathetic expression on his face--“at -least I strive not to be. I am ambitious and sceptical--and I am not -altogether convinced of there being any real intention of ultimate -good in the arrangements of this world as they at present exist,--but -I work without any malicious intention; and without undue boasting I -believe I am as honest and conscientious as the best of my kind. But -that is neither here nor there,--as I said before, you have broken -into a secret not intended for your knowledge--and, that you may not -misunderstand me yet more thoroughly than you seem to do, I will tell -you what I never wished to bother your brains with. For you have been -very happy till now, Féraz--happy in the beautiful simplicity of the -life you led--the life of a poet and dreamer,--the happiest life in -the world!” - -He broke off, with a short sigh of mingled vexation and regret--then -he seated himself immediately opposite his brother and went on-- - -“You were too young to understand the loss it was to us both when our -parents died,--or to know the immense reputation our father Nadir -Zarânos had won throughout the East for his marvellous skill in -natural science and medicine. He died in the prime of his life,--our -mother followed him within a month,--and you were left to my -charge,--you a child then, and I almost a man. Our father’s small but -rare library came into my possession, together with his own -manuscripts treating of the scientific and spiritual organisation of -Nature in all its branches,--and these opened such extraordinary -vistas of possibility to me, as to what might be done if such and such -theories could be practically carried out and acted upon, that I -became fired with the ardour of discovery. The more I studied, the -more convinced and eager I became in the pursuit of such knowledge as -is generally deemed supernatural, and beyond the reach of all human -inquiry. One or two delicate experiments in chemistry of a rare and -subtle nature were entirely successful,--and by and by I began to look -about for a subject on whom I could practise the power I had attained. -There was no one whom I could personally watch and surround with my -hourly influence except yourself,--therefore I made my first great -trial upon _you_.” - -Féraz moved uneasily in his chair,--his face wore a doubtful, -half-sullen expression, but he listened to El-Râmi’s every word with -vivid and almost painful interest. - -“At that time you were a mere boy--” pursued El-Râmi--“but strong and -vigorous, and full of the mischievous pranks and sports customary to -healthy boyhood. I began by slow degrees to educate you--not with the -aid of schools or tutors--but simply by my Will. You had a singularly -unretentive brain,--you were never fond of music--you would never -read,--you had no taste for study. Your delight was to ride--to swim -like a fish,--to handle a gun--to race, to leap,--to play practical -jokes on other boys of your own age and fight them if they resented -it;--all very amusing performances no doubt, but totally devoid of -intelligence. Judging you dispassionately, I found that you were a -very charming gamesome animal,--physically perfect--with a Mind -somewhere if one could only discover it, and a Soul or Spirit behind -the Mind--if one could only discover that also. I set myself the task -of finding out both these hidden portions of your composition--and of -not only finding them, but moulding and influencing them according to -my desire and plan.” - -A faint tremor shook the younger man’s frame--but he said nothing. - -“You are attending to me closely, I hope?” said El-Râmi -pointedly--“because you must distinctly understand that this -conversation is the first and last we shall have on the matter. After -to-day, the subject must drop between us for ever, and I shall refuse -to answer any more questions. You hear?” - -Féraz bent his head. - -“I hear--” he answered with an effort--“And what I hear seems strange -and terrible!” - -“Strange and terrible?” echoed El-Râmi. “How so? What is there -strange or terrible in the pursuit of Wisdom? Yet--perhaps you are -right, and the blank ignorance of a young child is best,--for there -_is_ something appalling in the infinitude of knowledge--an infinitude -which must remain infinite, if it be true that there is a God who is -for ever thinking, and whose thoughts become realities.” - -He paused, with a rapt look,--then resumed in the same even tone,-- - -“When I had made up my mind to experimentalise upon you, I lost no -time in commencing my work. One of my chief desires was to avoid the -least risk of endangering your health--your physical condition was -admirable, and I resolved to keep it so. In this I succeeded. I made -life a joy to you--the mere act of breathing a pleasure--you grew up -before my eyes like the vigorous sapling of an oak that rejoices in -the mere expansion of its leaves to the fresh air. The other and more -subtle task was harder,--it needed all my patience--all my skill,--but -I was at last rewarded. Through my concentrated influence, which -surrounded you as with an atmosphere in which you moved, and slept, -and woke again, and which forced every fibre of your brain to respond -to mine, the animal faculties, which were strongest in you, became -subdued and tamed,--and the mental slowly asserted themselves. I -resolved you should be a poet and musician--you became both; you -developed an ardent love of study, and every few months that passed -gave richer promise of your ripening intelligence. Moreover, you were -happy,--happy in everything--happiest perhaps in your music, which -became your leading passion. Having thus, unconsciously to yourself, -fostered your mind by the silent workings of my own, and trained it to -grow up like a dower to the light, I thought I might make my next -attempt, which was to probe for that subtle essence we call the -Soul--the large wings that are hidden in the moth’s chrysalis;--and -influence that too;--but there--there, by some inexplicable opposition -of forces, I was baffled.” - -Féraz raised himself half out of his chair, his lips parted in -breathless eagerness--his eyes dilated and sparkling. - -“Baffled?” he repeated hurriedly--“How do you mean?--in what way?” - -“Oh, in various ways--” replied El-Râmi, looking at him with a -somewhat melancholy expression--“Ways that I myself am not able to -comprehend. I found I could influence your Inner Self to obey me,--but -only to a very limited extent, and in mere trifles,--for example, as -you yourself know, I could compel you to come to me from a certain -distance in response to my thought,--but in higher things you escaped -me. You became subject to long trances,--this I was prepared for, as -it was partially my work,--and, during these times of physical -unconsciousness, it was evident that your Soul enjoyed a life and -liberty superior to anything these earth-regions can offer. But you -could never remember all you saw in these absences,--indeed, the only -suggestions you seem to have brought away from that other state of -existence are the strange melodies you play sometimes, and that idea -you have about your native Star.” - -A curious expression flitted across Féraz’s face as he heard--and his -lips parted in a slight smile, but he said nothing. - -“Therefore,”--pursued his brother meditatively--“as I could get no -clear exposition of other worlds from you, as I had hoped to do, I -knew I had failed to command you in a spiritual sense. But my -dominance over your mind continued; it continues still,--nay, my good -Féraz!”--this, as Féraz seemed about to utter some impetuous -word--“Pray that you may never be able to shake off my force -entirely,--for, if you do, you will lose what the people of a grander -and poetic day called Genius--and what the miserable Dry-as-Dusts of -our modern era call Madness--the only gift of the gods that has ever -served to enlighten and purify the world. But _your_ genius, Féraz, -belongs to _me_;--I gave it to you, and I can take it back again if I -so choose;--and leave you as you originally were--a handsome animal -with no more true conception of art or beauty than my Lord Melthorpe, -or his spendthrift young cousin Vaughan.” - -Féraz had listened thus far in silence--but now he sprang out of his -chair with a reckless gesture. - -“I cannot bear it!” he said--“I cannot bear it! El-Râmi, I cannot--I -will not!” - -“Cannot bear what?” inquired his brother with a touch of satire in his -tone--“Pray be calm!--there is no necessity for such melodramatic -excitement. Cannot bear what?” - -“I will not owe everything to you!” went on Féraz passionately--“How -can I endure to know that my very thoughts are not my own, but emanate -from you?--that my music has been instilled into me by you?--that you -possess me by your power, body and brain,--great Heaven! it is -awful--intolerable--impossible!” - -El-Râmi rose and laid one hand gently on his shoulder--he recoiled -shudderingly--and the elder man sighed heavily. - -“You tremble at my touch,--” he said sadly--“the touch of a hand that -has never wilfully wrought you harm, but has always striven to make -life beautiful to you? Well!--be it so!--you have only to say the -word, Féraz, and you shall owe me nothing. I will undo all I have -done,--and you shall reassume the existence for which Nature -originally made you--an idle voluptuous wasting of time in sensualism -and folly. And even _that_ form of life you must owe to Some -One,--even that you must account for--to God!” - -The young man’s head drooped,--a faint sense of shame stirred in him, -but he was still resentful and sullen. - -“What have I done to you,” went on El-Râmi, “that you should turn -from me thus, all because you have seen a dead woman’s face for an -hour? I have made your thoughts harmonious--I have given you pleasure -such as the world’s ways cannot give--your mind has been as a clear -mirror in which only the fairest visions of life were reflected. You -would alter this?--then do so, if you decide thereon,--but weigh the -matter well and long, before you shake off my touch, my tenderness, my -care.” - -His voice faltered a little--but he quickly controlled his emotion, -and continued-- - -“I must ask you to sit down again and hear me out patiently to the end -of my story. At present I have only told you what concerns -yourself--and how the failure of my experiment upon the spiritual part -of your nature obliged me to seek for another subject on whom to -continue my investigations. As far as you are personally concerned, no -failure is apparent--for your spirit is allowed frequent intervals of -supernatural freedom, in which you have experiences that give you -peculiar pleasure, though you are unable to impart them to me with -positive lucidity. You visit a Star--so you say--with which you really -seem to have some home connection--but you never get beyond this, so -that it would appear that any higher insight is denied you. Now what I -needed to obtain was not only a higher insight, but the highest -knowledge that could possibly be procured through a mingled -combination of material and spiritual essences, and it was many a long -and weary day before I found what I sought. At last my hour came--as -it comes to all who have the patience and fortitude to wait for it.” - -He paused a moment--then went on more quickly-- - -“You remember of course that occasion on which we chanced upon a party -of Arab wanderers who were journeying across the Syrian desert?--all -poor and ailing, and almost destitute of food or water?” - -“I remember it perfectly!” and Féraz, seating himself opposite his -brother again, listened with renewed interest and attention. - -“They had two dying persons with them,” continued El-Râmi--“An -elderly woman--a widow, known as Zaroba,--the other an orphan girl of -about twelve years of age named Lilith. Both were perishing of fever -and famine. I came to the rescue. I saved Zaroba,--and she, with the -passionate impulsiveness of her race, threw herself in gratitude at my -feet, and swore by all her most sacred beliefs that she would be my -slave from henceforth as long as she lived. All her people were dead, -she told me--she was alone in the world--she prayed me to let her be -my faithful servant. And truly, her fidelity has never failed--till -now. But of that hereafter. The child Lilith, more fragile of frame -and weakened to the last extremity of exhaustion--in spite of my -unremitting care--died. Do you thoroughly understand me--she _died_.” - -“She died!” repeated Féraz slowly--“Well--what then?” - -“I was supporting her in my arms”--said El-Râmi, the ardour of his -description growing upon him, and his black eyes dilating and burning -like great jewels under the darkness of his brows--“when she drew her -last breath and sank back--a corpse. But before her flesh had time to -stiffen,--before the warmth had gone out of her blood,--an idea, wild -and daring, flashed across my mind. ‘If this child has a Soul,’ I said -to myself--‘I will stay it in its flight from hence! It shall become -the new Ariel of my wish and will--and not till it has performed my -bidding to the utmost extent will I, like another Prospero, give it -its true liberty. And I will preserve the body, its mortal shell, by -artificial means, that through its medium I may receive the messages -of the Spirit in mortal language such as I am able to understand.’ No -sooner had I conceived my bold project than I proceeded to carry it -into execution. I injected into the still warm veins of the dead girl -a certain fluid whose properties I alone know the working of--and then -I sought and readily obtained permission from the Arabs to bury her in -the desert, while they went on their way. They were in haste to -continue their journey, and were grateful to me for taking this office -off their hands. That very day--the day the girl died--I sent _you_ -from me, as you know, bidding you make all possible speed, on an -errand which I easily invented, to the Brethren of the Cross in the -Island of Cyprus,--you went obediently enough,--surprised perhaps, but -suspecting nothing. That same evening, when the heats abated and the -moon rose, the caravan resumed its pilgrimage, leaving Lilith’s dead -body with me, and also the woman Zaroba, who volunteered to remain and -serve me in my tent, an offer which I accepted, seeing that it was her -own desire, and that she would be useful to me. She, poor silly soul, -took me then for a sort of god, because she was unable to understand -the miracle of her own recovery from imminent death, and I felt -certain I could rely upon her fidelity. Part of my plan I told -her,--she heard with mingled fear and reverence,--the magic of the -East was in her blood, however, and she had a superstitious belief -that a truly ‘wise man’ could do anything. So, for several days we -stayed encamped in the desert--I passing all my hours beside the dead -Lilith,--dead, but to a certain extent living through artificial -means. As soon as I received proof positive that my experiment was -likely to be successful, I procured means to continue my journey on to -Alexandria, and thence to England. To all inquirers I said the girl -was a patient of mine who was suffering from epileptic trances, and -the presence of Zaroba, who filled her post admirably as nurse and -attendant, was sufficient to stop the mouths of would-be -scandal-mongers. I chose my residence in London, because it is the -largest city in the world, and the one most suited to pursue a course -of study in, without one’s motives becoming generally known. One can -be more alone in London than in a desert if one chooses. Now, you know -all. You have seen the dead Lilith,--the human chrysalis of the -moth,--but there is a living Lilith too--the Soul of Lilith, which is -partly free and partly captive, but in both conditions is always the -servant of my Will!” - -Féraz looked at him in mingled awe and fear. - -“El-Râmi,”--he said tremulously--“What you tell me is -wonderful--terrible--almost beyond belief,--but, I know something of -your power and I must believe you. Only--surely you are in error when -you say that Lilith is dead? How can she be dead, if you have given -her life?” - -“Can you call that life which sleeps perpetually and will not wake?” -demanded El-Râmi. - -“Would you have her wake?” asked Féraz, his heart beating quickly. - -El-Râmi bent his burning gaze upon him. - -“Not so,--for if she wakes, in the usual sense of waking--she dies a -second death from which there can be no recall. There is the terror of -the thing. Zaroba’s foolish teaching, and your misguided yielding to -her temptation, might have resulted in the fatal end to my life’s best -and grandest work. But--I forgive you;--you did not know,--and -she--she did not wake.” - -“She did not wake,” echoed Féraz softly. “No--but--she smiled!” - -El-Râmi still kept his eyes fixed upon him,--there was an odd sense -of irritation in his usually calm and coldly balanced organisation--a -feeling he strove in vain to subdue. She smiled!--the exquisite -Lilith--the life-in-death Lilith smiled, because Féraz had called her -by some endearing name! Surely it could not be!--and, smothering his -annoyance, he turned towards the writing-table and feigned to arrange -some books and papers there. - -“El-Râmi--” murmured Féraz again, but timidly--“If she was a child -when she died as you say--how is it she has grown to womanhood?” - -“By artificial vitality,”--said El-Râmi--“As a flower is forced under -a hothouse,--and with no more trouble, and less consciousness of -effort than a rose under a glass dome.” - -“Then she lives,--” declared Féraz impetuously. “She -lives,--artificial or natural, she _has_ vitality. Through your power -she exists, and if you chose, oh, if you chose, El-Râmi, you could -wake her to the fullest life--to perfect consciousness,--to joy--to -love!--Oh, she is in a blessed trance--you cannot call her _dead_!” - -El-Râmi turned upon him abruptly. - -“Be silent!” he said sternly--“I read your thoughts,--control them, if -you are wise! You echo Zaroba’s prating--Zaroba’s teaching. Lilith is -dead, I tell you,--dead to you,--and, in the sense _you_ mean--dead to -me.” - - - - - XIV. - -After this, a long silence fell between them. Féraz sat moodily in -his chair, conscious of a certain faint sense of shame. He was sorry -that he had wilfully trespassed upon his brother’s great secret,--and -yet there was an angry pride in him,--a vague resentment at having -been kept so long in ignorance of this wonderful story of -Lilith,--which made him reluctant to acknowledge himself in the wrong. -Moreover, his mind was possessed and haunted by Lilith’s face,--the -radiant face that looked like that of an angel sleeping,--and, -perplexedly thinking over all he had heard, he wondered if he would -ever again have the opportunity of beholding what had seemed to him -the incarnation of ideal loveliness. Surely yes!--Zaroba would be his -friend,--Zaroba would let him gaze his fill on that exquisite -form--would let him touch that little, ethereally delicate hand, as -soft as velvet and as white as snow! Absorbed in these reflections, he -scarcely noticed that El-Râmi had moved away from him to the -writing-table, and that he now sat there in his ebony chair, turning -over the leaves of the curious Arabic volume which Féraz had had such -trouble in deciphering on the previous day. The silence in the room -continued; outside there was the perpetual sullen roar of raging -restless London,--now and again the sharp chirruping of contentious -sparrows, arguing over a crumb of food as parliamentary agitators -chatter over a crumb of difference, stirred the quiet air. Féraz -stretched himself and yawned,--he was getting sleepy, and as he -realised this fact he nervously attributed it to his brother’s -influence, and sprang up abruptly, rubbing his eyes and pushing his -thick hair from his brows. At this hasty movement, El-Râmi turned -slowly towards him with a grave yet kindly smile. - -“Well, Féraz”--he said--“Do you still think me ‘wicked’ now you know -all? Speak frankly--do not be afraid.” - -Féraz paused, irresolute. - -“I do not know what to think--” he answered hesitatingly,--“Your -experiment is of course wonderful,--but--as I said before--to me, it -seems terrible.” - -“Life is terrible--” said El-Râmi--“Death is terrible,--Love is -terrible,--God is terrible. All Nature’s pulses beat to the note of -Terror,--terror of the Unknown that May Be,--terror of the Known that -Is!” - -His deep voice rang with impressive solemnity through the room,--his -eyes were full of that strange lurid gleam which gave them the -appearance of having a flame behind them. - -“Come here, Féraz,” he continued--“Why do you stand at so cautious a -distance from me? With that brave show-dagger at your belt, are you a -coward? Silly lad!--I swear to you my influence shall not touch you -unless I warn you of it beforehand. Come!” - -Féraz obeyed, but slowly and with an uncertain step. His brother -looked at him attentively as he came,--then, with a gesture indicating -the volume before him, he said-- - -“You found this book on my table yesterday, and tried to read it,--is -it not so?” - -“I did.” - -“Well, and have you learnt anything from it?” pursued El-Râmi with a -strange smile. - -“Yes. I learnt how the senses may be deceived by trickery--” retorted -Féraz with some heat and quickness--“and how a clever -magnetiser--like yourself--may fool the eye and delude the ear with -sights and sounds that have no existence.” - -“Precisely. Listen to this passage;”--and El-Râmi read aloud--“‘The -King, when he had any affair, assembled the Priests without the City -Memphis, and the People met together in the streets of the said City. -Then they (the Priests) made their entrance one after another in -order, the drum beating before them to bring the people together; and -every one made some miraculous discovery of his Magick and Wisdom. One -had, _to their thinking who looked on him_, his face surrounded with a -light like that of the Sun, so that none could look earnestly upon -him. Another seemed clad with a Robe beset with precious stones of -divers colours, green, red, or yellow, or wrought with gold. Another -came mounted on a Lion compassed with Serpents like Girdles. Another -came in covered with a canopy or pavilion of Light. Another appeared -surrounded with Fire turning about him, so as that nobody durst come -near him. Another was seen with dreadful birds perching about his head -and shaking their wings like black eagles and vultures. In fine, every -one did what was taught him;--_yet all was but Apparition and Illusion -without any reality_, insomuch that when they came up to the King they -spake thus to him:--_You imagined that it was so and so,--but the -truth is that it was such or such a thing_.’[2] The A B C of -magnetism is contained in the last words--” continued El-Râmi, -lifting his eyes from the book,--“The merest tyro in the science knows -that; and also realises that the Imagination is the centre of both -physical and bodily health or disease. And did you learn nothing -more?” - -Féraz made a half-angry gesture in the negative. - -“What a pity!”--and his brother surveyed him with good-humoured -compassion--“To know how a ‘miracle’ is done is one thing--but to do -it is quite another matter. Now let me recall to your mind what I -previously told you--that from this day henceforth I forbid you to -make any allusion to the subject of my work. I forbid you to mention -the name of Lilith,--and I forbid you to approach or to enter the room -where her body lies. You understand me?--I forbid you!” - -Féraz’s eyes flashed angry opposition, and he drew himself up with a -haughty self-assertiveness. - -“You forbid me!” he echoed proudly--“What right have you to forbid me -anything? And how if I refuse to obey?” - -El-Râmi rose and confronted him, one hand resting on the big Arabic -volume. - -“You will not refuse--” he said--“because I will take no refusal. You -will obey, because I exact your obedience. Moreover, you will swear by -the Most Holy Name of God, that you will never, either to me, or to -any other living soul, speak a syllable concerning my life’s greatest -experiment,--you will swear that the name of Lilith shall never pass -your lips----” - -But here Féraz interrupted him. - -“El-Râmi, I will _not_ swear!” he cried desperately--“The name of -Lilith is sweet to me!--why should I not utter it,--why should I not -sing of it--why should I not even remember it in my prayers?” - -A terrible look darkened El-Râmi’s countenance; his brows contracted -darkly, and his lips drew together in a close resolute line. - -“There are a thousand reasons why--” he said in low fierce -accents,--“One is, that the soul of Lilith and the body of Lilith are -_mine_, and that you have no share in their possession. She does not -need your songs--still less has she need of your prayers. Rash -fool!--you shall forget the name of Lilith--and you _shall_ swear, as -I command you. Resist my will if you can,--now!--I warn you in time!” - -He seemed to grow in height as he spoke,--his eyes blazed ominously, -and Féraz, meeting that lightning-like glance, knew how hopeless it -would be for him to attempt to oppose such an intense force as was -contained in this man’s mysterious organisation. He tried his -best,--but in vain,--with every second he felt his strength oozing out -of him--his power of resistance growing less and less. - -“Swear!” said El-Râmi imperatively--“Swear in God’s Name to keep my -secret--swear by Christ’s Death!--swear on _this_!” - -And he held out a small golden crucifix. - -Mechanically, but still devoutly, Féraz instantly dropped on one -knee, and kissed the holy emblem. - -“I swear!” he said--but, as he spoke, the rising tears were in his -throat, and he murmured--“Forget the name of Lilith!--never!” - -“In God’s Name!” said El-Râmi. - -“In God’s Name!” - -“By Christ’s Death!” - -Féraz trembled. In the particular form of religion professed by -himself and his brother, this was the most solemn and binding vow that -could be taken. And his voice was faint and unsteady as he repeated -it-- - -“By Christ’s Death!” - -El-Râmi put aside the crucifix. - -“That is well;--” he said, in mild accents which contrasted agreeably -with his previous angry tone--“Such oaths are chronicled in heaven, -remember,--and whoever breaks his sworn word is accursed of the gods. -But you,--you will keep your vow, Féraz,--and ... you will also -forget the name of Lilith,--if I choose!” - -Féraz stood mute and motionless,--he would have said something, but -somehow words failed him to express what was in his mind. He was -angry, he said to himself,--he had sworn a foolish oath against his -will, and he had every right to be angry--very angry,--but with whom? -Surely not with his brother--his friend,--his protector for so many -years? As he thought of this, shame and penitence and old affection -grew stronger and welled up in his heart, and he moved slowly towards -El-Râmi, with hands outstretched. - -“Forgive me;”--he said humbly. “I have offended you--I am sorry. I -will show my repentance in whatever way you please,--but do not, -El-Râmi--do not ask me, do not force me to forget the name of -Lilith,--it is like a note in music, and it cannot do you harm that I -should think of it sometimes. For the rest I will obey you -faithfully,--and, for what is past, I ask your pardon.” - -El-Râmi took his hands and pressed them affectionately in his own. - -“No sooner asked than granted--” he said--“You are young, Féraz,--and -I am not so harsh as you perhaps imagine. The impulsiveness of youth -should always be quickly pardoned--seeing how gracious a thing youth -is, and how short a time it lasts. Keep your poetic dreams and -fancies--take the sweetness of thought without its bitterness,--and, -if you are content to have it so, let me still help to guide your -fate. If not, why, nothing is easier than to part company,--part as -good friends and brethren always,--you on your chosen road and I on -mine,--who knows but that after all you might n be happier so?” - -Féraz lifted his dark eyes, heavy with unshed tears. - -“Would you send me from you?” he asked falteringly. - -“Not I! I would not send you,--but you might wish to go.” - -“Never!” said Féraz resolutely--“I feel that I must stay with -you--till the end.” - -He uttered the last words with a sigh, and El-Râmi looked at him -curiously. - -“Till the end?”--he repeated--“What end?” - -“Oh, the end of life or death or anything;” replied Féraz with forced -lightness--“There must surely be an end somewhere, as there was a -beginning.” - -“That is rather a doubtful problem!” said El-Râmi--“The great -question is, was there ever a Beginning? and will there ever be an -End?” - -Féraz gave a languid gesture. - -“You inquire too far,”--he said wearily--“I always think you inquire -too far. I cannot follow you--I am tired. Do you want anything?--can I -do anything? or may I go to my room? I want to be alone for a little -while, just to consider quietly what my life is, and what I can make -of it.” - -“A truly wise and philosophical subject of meditation!” observed -El-Râmi, and he smiled kindly and held out his hand. Féraz laid his -own slender fingers somewhat listlessly in that firm warm -palm;--then--with a sudden start, looked eagerly around him. The air -seemed to have grown denser,--there was a delicious scent of roses in -the room, and hush! ... What entrancing voices were those that sang in -the distance? He listened absorbed;--the harmonies were very sweet and -perfect--almost he thought he could distinguish words. Loosening his -hand from his brother’s clasp, the melody seemed to grow fainter and -fainter,--recognising this, he roused himself with a quick movement, -his eyes flashing with a sudden gleam of defiance. - -“More magic music!” he said--“I hear the sound of singing, and you -_know_ that I hear it! I understand!--it is _imagined_ music--your -work, El-Râmi,--your skill. It is wonderful, beautiful,--and you are -the most marvellous man on earth!--you should have been a priest of -old Egypt! Yes--I am tired--I will rest;--I will accept the dreams you -offer me for what they are worth,--but I must remember that there are -realities as well as dreams,--and I shall not forget the name -of--Lilith!” - -He smiled audaciously, looking as graceful as a pictured Adonis in the -careless yet proud attitude he had unconsciously assumed,--then with a -playful yet affectionate salutation he moved to the doorway. - -“Call me if you want me,” he said. - -“I shall not want you;”--replied his brother, regarding him steadily. - -The door opened and closed again,--Féraz was gone. - -Shutting up the great volume in front of him, El-Râmi rested his arms -upon it, and stared into vacancy with darkly-knitted brows. - -“What premonition of evil is there in the air?” he muttered--“What -restless emotion is at work within me? Are the Fates turning against -me?--and am I after all nothing but the merest composition of vulgar -matter--a weak human wretch capable of being swayed by changeful -passions? What is it? What am I that I should vex my spirit thus--all -because Lilith smiled at the sound of a voice that was not mine?” - - - - - XV. - -Just then there came a light tap at his door. He opened it,--and -Zaroba stood before him. No repentance for her fault of disobedience -and betrayal of trust clouded that withered old face of hers,--her -deep-set dark eyes glittered with triumph, and her whole aspect was -one of commanding, and almost imperious, dignity. In fact, she made -such an ostentatious show of her own self-importance in her look and -manner that El-Râmi stared at her for a moment in haughty amazement -at what he considered her effrontery in thus boldly facing him after -her direct violation of his commands. He eyed her up and down--she -returned him glance for glance unquailingly. - -“Let me come in--” she said in her strong harsh voice--“I make no -doubt but that the poor lad Féraz has told you his story--now, as God -liveth, you must hear mine.” - -El-Râmi turned upon his heel with a contemptuous movement, and went -back to his own chair by the writing-table. Zaroba, paying no heed to -the wrath conveyed by this mute action, stalked in also, and, shutting -the door after her, came and stood close beside him. - -“Write down what you think of me--” she said, pointing with her yellow -forefinger at the pens and paper--“Write the worst. I have betrayed my -trust. That is true. I have disobeyed your commands after keeping them -for six long years. True again. What else?” - -El-Râmi fixed his eyes upon her, a world of indignation and reproach -in their brilliant depths, and snatching up a pencil he wrote on a -slip of paper rapidly-- - - “Nothing else--nothing more than treachery! You are unworthy of your - sacred task--you are false to your sworn fidelity.” - -Zaroba read the lines as quickly as he wrote them, but when she came -to the last words she made a swift gesture of denial, and drew herself -up haughtily. - -“No--not false!” she said passionately--“Not false to _you_, El-Râmi, -I swear! I would slay myself rather than do you wrong. You saved my -life, though my life was not worth saving, and for that gentle deed I -would pour out every drop of my blood to requite you. No, no! Zaroba -is not false--she is true!” - -She tossed up her arms wildly,--then suddenly folding them tight -across her chest, she dropped her voice to a gentler and more -appealing tone. - -“Hear me, El-Râmi!--Hear me, wise man and Master of the magic of the -East!--I have done well for you;--well! I have disobeyed you for your -own sake,--I have betrayed my trust that you may discover how and -where you may find your best reward. I have sinned with the resolved -intent to make you happy,--as God liveth, I speak truth from my heart -and soul!” - -El-Râmi turned towards her, his face expressing curiosity in spite of -himself. He was very pale, and outwardly he was calm enough--but his -nerves were on the rack of suspense--he wondered what sudden frenzied -idea had possessed this woman that she should comport herself as -though she held some strange secret of which the very utterance might -move heaven and earth to wonderment. Controlling his feelings with an -effort he wrote again-- - - “There exists no reason for disloyalty. Your excuses avail - nothing--let me hear no more of them. Tell me of Lilith--what news?” - -“News!” repeated Zaroba scornfully--“What news should there be? She -breathes and sleeps as she has breathed and slept always--she has not -stirred. There is no harm done by my bidding Féraz look on her,--no -change is wrought except in _you_, El-Râmi!--except in you!” - -Half springing from his chair he confronted her--then recollecting her -deafness, he bit his lips angrily and sank back again with an assumed -air of indifference. - -“You have heard Féraz--” pursued Zaroba, with that indescribable -triumph of hers lighting up her strong old face--“You must now hear -me. I thank the gods that my ears are closed to the sound of human -voices, and that neither reproach nor curse can move me to dismay. And -I am ignorant of _your_ magic, El-Râmi,--the magic that chills the -blood and sends the spirit flitting through the land of dreams,--the -only magic _I_ know is the magic of the heart--of the passions,--a -natural witchcraft that conquers the world!” - -She waved her arms to and fro--then crossing them on her bosom, she -made a profound half-mocking salutation. - -“Wise El-Râmi Zarânos!” she said. “Proud ruler of the arts and -sciences that govern Nature,--have you ever, with all your learning, -taken the measure of your own passions, and slain them so utterly that -they shall never rise up again? They sleep at times, like the serpents -of the desert, coiled up in many a secret place,--but at the touch of -some unwary heel, some casual falling pebble, they unwind their -lengths--they raise their glittering heads, and sting! I, Zaroba, have -felt them here”--and she pressed her hands more closely on her -breast--“I have felt their poison in my blood--sweet poison, sweeter -than life!--their stings have given me all the joy my days have ever -known. But it is not of myself that I should speak--it is of you--of -you, whose life is lonely, and for whom the coming years hold forth no -prospect of delight. When I lay dying in the desert and you restored -me to strength again, I swore to serve you with fidelity. As God -liveth, El-Râmi, I have kept my vow,--and in return for the life you -gave me I bid you take what is yours to claim--the love of Lilith!” - -El-Râmi rose out of his chair, white to the lips, and his hand shook. -If he could have concentrated his inward forces at that moment, he -would have struck Zaroba dumb by one effort of his will, and so put an -end to her undesired eloquence,--but something, he knew not what, -disturbed the centre of his self-control, and his thoughts were in a -whirl. He despised himself for the unusual emotion which seized -him--inwardly he was furious with the garrulous old woman,--but -outwardly he could only make her an angry imperative sign to be -silent. - -“Nay, I will not cease from speaking--” said Zaroba -imperturbably--“for all has to be said now, or never. The love of -Lilith! imagine it, El-Râmi!--the clinging of her young white -arms--the kisses of her sweet red mouth,--the open glances of her -innocent eyes--all this is yours, if you but say the word. Listen! For -six and more long years I have watched her,--and I have watched _you_. -She has slept the sleep of death-in-life, for you have willed it -so,--and in that sleep she has imperceptibly passed from childhood to -womanhood. You--cold as a man of bronze or marble,--have made of her -nothing but a ‘subject’ for your science,--and never a breath of love -or longing on your part, or even admiration for her beauty, has -stirred the virgin-trance in which she lies. And I have marvelled at -it--I have thought--and I have prayed;--the gods have answered me, and -now I know!” - -She clapped her hands ecstatically, and then went on. - -“The child Lilith died,--but you, El-Râmi, you caused her to live -again. And she lives still--yes, though it may suit your fancy to -declare her dead. She is a woman--you are a man;--you dare not keep -her longer in that living death--you dare not doom her to perpetual -darkness!--the gods would curse you for such cruelty, and who may -abide their curse? I, Zaroba, have sworn it--Lilith shall know the -joys of love!--and you, El-Râmi Zarânos, shall be her lover!--and -for this holy end I have employed the talisman which alone sets fire -to the sleeping passions...” and she craned her neck forward and -almost hissed the word in his ear--“Jealousy!” - -El-Râmi smiled--a cold derisive smile, which implied the most utter -contempt for the whole of Zaroba’s wild harangue. She, however, went -on undismayed, and with increasing excitement-- - -“Jealousy!” she cried--“The little asp is in your soul already, proud -El-Râmi Zarânos, and why? Because another’s eyes have looked on -Lilith! This was my work! It was I who led Féraz into her -chamber,--it was I who bade him kneel beside her as she slept,--it was -I who let him touch her hand,--and though I could not hear his voice I -know he called upon her to awaken. In vain!--he might as well have -called the dead--I knew she would not stir for him--her very breath -belongs to you. But I--I let him gaze upon her beauty and worship -it,--all his young soul was in his eyes--he looked and looked again -and _loved_ what he beheld! And mark me yet further, El-Râmi,--I saw -her smile when Féraz took her hand,--so, though she did not move, she -_felt_; she felt a touch that was not yours,--not yours, El-Râmi!--as -God liveth, she is not quite so much your own as once she was!” - -As she said this and laughed in that triumphant way, El-Râmi advanced -one step towards her with a fierce movement as though he would have -thrust her from the room,--checking himself, however, he seized the -pencil again and wrote-- - - “I have listened to you with more patience than you deserve. You are - an ignorant woman and foolish--your fancies have no foundation - whatever in fact. Your disobedience might have ruined my life’s - work,--as it is, I daresay some mischief has been done. Return to your - duties, and take heed how you trespass against my command in future. - If you dare to speak to me on this subject again I will have you - shipped back to your own land and left there, as friendless and as - unprovided for as you were when I saved you from death by famine. - Go--and let me hear no more foolishness.” - -Zaroba read, and her face darkened and grew weary--but the pride and -obstinacy of her own convictions remained written on every line of her -features. She bowed her head resignedly, however, and said in slow -even tones-- - -“El-Râmi Zarânos is wise,--El-Râmi Zarânos is master. But let him -remember the words of Zaroba. Zaroba is also skilled in the ways and -the arts of the East,--and the voice of Fate speaks sometimes to the -lowest as well as to the highest. There are the laws of Life and the -laws of Death--but there are also the laws of Love. Without the laws -of Love, the Universe would cease to be,--it is for El-Râmi Zarânos -to prove himself stronger than the Universe,--if he can!” - -She made the usual obsequious “salaam” common to Eastern races, and -then with a swift, silent movement left the room, closing the door -noiselessly behind her. El-Râmi stood where she had left him, idly -tearing up the scraps of paper on which he had written his part of the -conversation,--he was hardly conscious of thought, so great were his -emotions of surprise and self-contempt. - -“‘O what a rogue and peasant-slave am I!’” he muttered, quoting his -favourite _Hamlet_--“Why did I not paralyse her tongue before she -spoke? Where had fled my force,--what became of my skill? Surely I -could have struck her down before me with the speed of a -lightning-flash--only--she is a woman--and old. Strange how these -feminine animals always harp on the subject of love, as though it were -the Be-all and End-all of everything. The love of Lilith! Oh fool! The -love of a corpse kept breathing by artificial means! And what of the -Soul of Lilith? Can It love? Can It hate? Can It even feel? Surely -not. It is an ethereal transparency,--a delicate film which takes upon -itself the reflex of all existing things without experiencing personal -emotion. Such is the Soul, as I believe in it--an immortal Essence, in -itself formless, yet capable of taking all forms,--ignorant of the -joys or pains of feeling, yet reflecting all shades of sensation as a -crystal reflects all colours in the prism. This, and no more.” - -He paced up and down the room--and a deep involuntary sigh escaped -him. - -“No--” he murmured, as though answering some inward query--“No, I will -not go to her now--not till the appointed time. I resolved on an -absence of forty-eight hours, and forty-eight hours it shall be. Then -I will go,--and she will tell me all--I shall know the full extent of -the mischief done. And so Féraz ‘looked and looked again, and _loved_ -what he beheld!’ Love! The very word seems like a desecrating blot on -the virgin soul of Lilith!” - - - - - XVI. - -Féraz meanwhile was fast asleep in his own room. He had sought to -be alone for the purpose of thinking quietly and connectedly over all -he had heard,--but no sooner had he obtained the desired solitude than -a sudden and heavy drowsiness overcame him, such as he was unable to -resist, and, throwing himself on his bed, he dropped into a profound -slumber, which deepened as the minutes crept on. The afternoon wore -slowly away,--sunset came and passed,--the coming shadows lengthened, -and just as the first faint star peeped out in the darkening skies he -awoke, startled to find it so late. He sprang from his couch, -bewildered and vexed with himself,--it was time for supper, he -thought, and El-Râmi must be waiting. He hastened to the study, and -there he found his brother conversing with a gentleman,--no other than -Lord Melthorpe, who was talking in a loud cheerful voice, which -contrasted oddly with El-Râmi’s slow musical accents, that ever had a -note of sadness in them. When Féraz made his hurried entrance, his -eyes humid with sleep, yet dewily brilliant,--his thick dark hair -tangled in rough curls above his brows, Lord Melthorpe stared at him -in honestly undisguised admiration, and then glanced at El-Râmi -inquiringly. - -“My brother, Féraz Zarânos”--said El-Râmi, readily performing the -ceremony of introduction--“Féraz, this is Lord Melthorpe,--you have -heard me speak of him.” - -Féraz bowed with his usual perfect grace, and Lord Melthorpe shook -hands with him. - -“Upon my word!” he said good-humouredly, “this young gentleman reminds -one of the _Arabian Nights_, El-Râmi! He looks like one of those -amazing fellows who always had remarkable adventures; Prince Ahmed, or -the son of a king, or something--don’t you know?” - -El-Râmi smiled gravely. - -“The Eastern dress is responsible for that idea in your mind, no -doubt--” he replied--“Féraz wears it in the house, because he moves -more easily and is more comfortable in it than in the regulation -British attire, which really is the most hideous mode of garb in the -world. Englishmen are among the finest types of the human race, but -their dress does them scant justice.” - -“You are right--we’re all on the same tailor’s pattern--and a -frightful pattern it is!” and his lordship put up his eyeglass to -survey Féraz once more, the while he thought--“Devilish handsome -fellow!--would make quite a sensation in the room--new sort of craze -for my lady.” Aloud he said--“Pray bring your brother with you on -Tuesday evening--my wife will be charmed.” - -“Féraz never goes into society--” replied El-Râmi--“But of course, -if you insist----” - -“Oh, I never insist--” declared Lord Melthorpe, laughing, “_You_ are -the man for insisting, not I. But I shall take it as a favour if he -will accompany you.” - -“You hear, Féraz--” and El-Râmi looked at his brother -inquiringly--“Lord Melthorpe invites you to a great reception next -Tuesday evening. Would you like to go?” - -Féraz glanced from one to the other half smilingly, half doubtfully. - -“Yes, I should like it,” he said at last. - -“Then we shall expect you,--” and Lord Melthorpe rose to take his -leave,--“It’s a sort of diplomatic and official affair--fellows will -look in either before or after the Foreign Office crush, which is on -the same evening, and orders and decorations will be in full force, I -believe. Oh, by the way, Lady Melthorpe begged me to ask you most -particularly to wear Oriental dress.” - -“I shall obey her ladyship;”--and El-Râmi smiled a little -satirically--the character of the lady in question was one that always -vaguely amused him. - -“And your brother will do the same, I hope?” - -“Assuredly!” and El-Râmi shook hands with his visitor, bidding Féraz -escort him to the door. When he had gone, Féraz sprang into the study -again with all the eager impetuosity of a boy. - -“What is it like--a reception in England?” he asked--“And why does -Lord Melthorpe ask me?” - -“I cannot imagine!” returned his brother drily--“Why do you want to -go?” - -“I should like to see life;”--said Féraz. - -“See life!” echoed El-Râmi somewhat disdainfully--“What do you mean? -Don’t you ‘see life’ as it is?” - -“No!” answered Féraz quickly--“I see men and women--but I don’t know -how they live, and I don’t know what they do.” - -“They live in a perpetual effort to out-reach and injure one -another”--said El-Râmi, “and all their forces are concentrated on -bringing themselves into notice. That is how they live,--that is what -they do. It is not a dignified or noble way of living, but it is all -they care about. You will see illustrations of this at Lord -Melthorpe’s reception. You will find the woman with the most diamonds -giving herself peacock-like airs over the woman who has fewest,--you -will see the snob-millionaire treated with greater consideration by -every one than the born gentleman who happens to have little of this -world’s wealth. You will find that no one thinks of putting himself -out to give personal pleasure to another,--you will hear the same -commonplace observations from every mouth,--you will discover a lack -of wit, a dearth of kindness, a scarcity of cheerfulness, and a most -desperate want of tact in every member of the whole fashionable -assemblage. And so you shall ‘see life’--if you think you can discern -it there. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof!--meanwhile let -us have supper,--time flies, and I have work to do to-night that must -be done.” - -Féraz busied himself nimbly about his usual duties--the frugal meal -was soon prepared and soon dispensed with, and, at its close, the -brothers sat in silence, El-Râmi watching Féraz with a curious -intentness, because he felt for the first time in his life that he was -not quite master of the young man’s thoughts. Did he still remember -the name of Lilith? El-Râmi had willed that every trace of it should -vanish from his memory during that long afternoon sleep in which the -lad had indulged himself unresistingly,--but the question was now--Had -that force of will gained the victory? He, El-Râmi, could not -tell--not yet--but he turned the problem over and over in his mind -with sombre irritation and restlessness. Presently Féraz broke the -silence. Drawing from his vest pocket a small manuscript book, and -raising his eyes, he said-- - -“Do you mind hearing something I wrote last night? I don’t quite know -how it came to me--I think I must have been dreaming----” - -“Read on;”--said El-Râmi--“If it be poesy, then its origin cannot be -explained. Were you able to explain it, it would become prose.” - -“I daresay the lines are not very good,”--went on Féraz -diffidently--“yet they are the true expression of a thought that is in -me. And whether I owe it to you, or to my own temperament, I have -visions now and then--visions not only of love, but of fame--strange -glories that I almost realise, yet cannot grasp. And there is a -sadness and futility in it all that grieves me ... everything is so -vague and swift and fleeting. Yet if love, as you say, be a mere -chimera,--surely there is such a thing as Fame?” - -“There is--” and El-Râmi’s eyes flashed, then darkened again--“There -is the applause of this world, which may mean the derision of the -next. Read on!” - -Féraz obeyed. “I call it for the present ‘The Star of Destiny’”--he -said; and then his mellifluous voice, rich and well modulated, gave -flowing musical enunciation to the following lines: - - “The soft low plash of waves upon the shore, - Mariners’ voices singing out at sea, - The sighing of the wind that evermore - Chants to my spirit mystic melody,-- - These are the mingling sounds I vaguely hear - As o’er the darkening misty main I gaze, - Where one fair planet, warmly bright and clear, - Pours from its heart a rain of silver rays. - - “O patient Star of Love! in yon pale sky - What absolute serenity is thine! - Beneath thy steadfast, half-reproachful eye - Large Ocean chafes,--and, white with bitter brine, - Heaves restlessly, and ripples from the light - To darker shadows,--ev’n as noble thought - Recoils from human passion, to a night - Of splendid gloom by its own mystery wrought.” - -“What made you think of the sea?” interrupted El-Râmi. - -Féraz looked up dreamily. - -“I don’t know,”--he said. - -“Well!--go on!” - -Féraz continued,-- - - “O searching Star, I bring my grief to thee,-- - Regard it, Thou, as pitying angels may - Regard a tortured saint,--and, down to me - Send one bright glance, one heart-assuring ray - From that high throne where thou in sheeny state - Dost hang, thought-pensive, ’twixt the heaven and earth; - Thou, sure, dost know the secret of my Fate, - For thou didst shine upon my hour of birth. - - “O Star, from whom the clouds asunder roll, - Tell this poor spirit pent in dying flesh, - This fighting, working, praying, prisoned soul, - Why it is trapped and strangled in the mesh - Of foolish Life and Time? Its wild young voice - Calls for release, unanswered and unstilled,-- - It sought not out this world,--it had no choice - Of other worlds where glory is fulfilled. - - “How hard to live at all, if living be - The thing it seems to us!--the few brief years - Made up of toil and sorrow, where we see - No joy without companionship of tears,-- - What is the artist’s fame?--the golden chords - Of rapt musician? or the poet’s themes? - All incomplete!--the nailed-down coffin boards - Are mocking sequels to the grandest dreams.” - -“That is not your creed,”--said El-Râmi with a searching look. - -Féraz sighed. “No--it is not my actual creed--but it is my frequent -thought.” - -“A thought unworthy of you,”--said his brother--“There is nothing left -‘incomplete’ in the whole Universe--and there is no sequel possible to -Creation.” - -“Perhaps not,--but again perhaps there may be a sequel beyond all -imagination or comprehension. And surely you must admit that some -things are left distressingly incomplete. Shelley’s ‘Fragments’ for -instance, Keats’s ‘Hyperion’--Schubert’s ‘Unfinished’ Symphony----” - -“Incomplete _here_--yes--;” agreed El-Râmi--“But--finished elsewhere, -as surely as day is day, and night is night. There is nothing -lost,--no, not so much as the lightest flicker of a thought in a man’s -brain,--nothing wasted or forgotten,--not even so much as an idle -word. _We_ forget--but the forces of Nature are non-oblivious. All is -chronicled and registered--all is scientifically set down in plain -figures that no mistake may be made in the final reckoning.” - -“You really think that?--you really believe that?” asked Féraz, his -eyes dilating eagerly. - -“I do, most positively;”--said El-Râmi--“It is a fact which Nature -most potently sets forth, and insists upon. But is there no more of -your verse?” - -“Yes--” and Féraz read on-- - - “O, we are sorrowful, my Soul and I: - We war together fondly--yet we pray - For separate roads,--the Body fain would die - And sleep i’ the ground, low-hidden from the day-- - The Soul erect, its large wings cramped for room, - Doth pantingly and passionately rebel, - Against this strange, uncomprehended doom - Called Life, where nothing is, or shall be well.” - -“Good!”--murmured El-Râmi softly--“Good--and true!” - - “Hear me, my Star!--star of my natal hour, - Thou calm unmovëd one amid all clouds! - Give me my birth-right,--the imperial sway - Of Thought supreme above the common crowds,-- - O let me feel thy swift compelling beam - Drawing me upwards to a goal divine; - Fulfil thy promise, O thou glittering Dream, - And let one crown of victory be mine. - - “Let me behold this world recede and pass - Like shifting mist upon a stormy coast - Or vision in a necromancer’s glass;-- - For I, ’mid perishable earth can boast - Of proven Immortality,--can reach - Glories ungrasped by minds of lower tone;-- - Thus, in a silence vaster than all speech, - I follow thee, my Star of Love, alone!” - -He ceased. El-Râmi, who had listened attentively, resting his head on -one hand, now lifted his eyes and looked at his young brother with an -expression of mingled curiosity and compassion. - -“The verses are good;”--he said at last--“good and perfectly -rhythmical, but surely they have a touch of arrogance?-- - - “‘I, ’mid perishable earth can boast - Of proven Immortality.’ - -What do you mean by ‘proven’ Immortality? Where are your proofs?” - -“I have them in my inner consciousness;” replied Féraz slowly--“But -to put them into the limited language spoken by mortals is impossible. -There are existing emotions--existing facts, which can never be -rendered into common speech. God is a Fact--but He cannot be explained -or described.” - -El-Râmi was silent,--a slight frown contracted his dark even brows. - -“You are beginning to think too much,”--he observed, rising from his -chair as he spoke--“Do not analyse yourself, Féraz, ... self-analysis -is the temper of the age, but it engenders distrust and sorrow. Your -poem is excellent, but it breathes of sadness,--I prefer your ‘star’ -songs which are so full of joy. To be wise is to be happy,--to be -happy is to be wise----” - -A loud rat-tat at the street door interrupted him. Féraz sprang up to -answer the imperative summons, and returned with a telegram. El-Râmi -opened and read it with astonished eyes, his face growing suddenly -pale. - -“He will be here to-morrow night!” he ejaculated in a -whisper--“To-morrow night! He, the saint--the king--here to-morrow -night! Why should he come?--What would he have with me?” - -His expression was one of dazed bewilderment, and Féraz looked at him -inquiringly. - -“Any bad news?” he asked--“Who is it that is coming?” - -El-Râmi recollected himself, and, folding up the telegram, thrust it -in his breast pocket. - -“A poor monk who is travelling hither on a secret mission solicits my -hospitality for the night”--he replied hurriedly--“That is all. He -will be here to-morrow.” - -Féraz stood silent, an incredulous smile in his fine eyes. - -“Why should you stoop to deceive me, El-Râmi, my brother?” he said -gently at last--“Surely it is not one of your ways to perfection? Why -try to disguise the truth from me?--I am not of a treacherous nature. -If I guess rightly, this ‘poor monk’ is the Supreme Head of the -Brethren of the Cross, from whose mystic band you were dismissed for a -breach of discipline. What harm is there in my knowing of this?” - -El-Râmi’s hand clenched, and his eyes had that dark and terrible look -in them that Féraz had learned to fear, but his voice was very calm. - -“Who told you?” he asked. - -“One of the monks at Cyprus long ago, when I went on your -errand”--replied Féraz; “He spoke of your wisdom, your power, your -brilliant faculties, in genuine regret that, all for some slight -matter in which you would not bend your pride, you had lost touch with -their various centres of action in all parts of the globe. He said no -more than this,--and no more than this I know.” - -“You know quite enough,”--said El-Râmi quietly--“If I _have_ lost -touch with their modes of work, I have gained insight beyond their -reach. And,--I am sorry I did not at once say the truth to you--it -_is_ their chief leader who comes here to-morrow. No doubt,”--and he -smiled with a sense of triumph--“no doubt he seeks for fresh -knowledge, such as I alone can give him.” - -“I thought,” said Féraz in a low half-awed tone,--“that he was one of -those who are wise with the wisdom of the angels?” - -“If there _are_ angels!” said El-Râmi with a touch of scorn, “He is -wise in faith alone--he believes and he imagines,--and there is no -question as to the strange power he has obtained through the simplest -means,--but I--I have no faith!--I seek to _prove_--I work to -_know_,--and my power is as great as his, though it is won in a -different way.” - -Féraz said nothing, but sat down to the piano, allowing his hands to -wander over the keys in a dreamy fashion that sounded like the far-off -echo of a rippling mountain stream. El-Râmi waited a moment, -listening,--then glanced at his watch--it was growing late. - -“Good-night, Féraz;”--he said in gentle accents--“I shall want -nothing more this evening. I am going to my work.” - -“Good-night,”--answered Féraz with equal gentleness, as he went on -playing. His brother opened and closed the door softly;--he was gone. - -As soon as he found himself alone, Féraz pressed the pedal of his -instrument so that the music pealed through the room in rich salvos of -sound--chord after chord rolled grandly forth, and sweet ringing notes -came throbbing from under his agile finger-tips, the while he said -aloud, with a mingling of triumph and tenderness-- - -“Forget! I shall never forget! Does one forget the flowers, the birds, -the moonlight, the sound of a sweet song? Is the world so fair that I -should blot from my mind the fairest thing in it? Not so! My memory -may fail me in a thousand things--but let me be tortured, harassed, -perplexed with dreams, persuaded by fantasies, I shall never forget -the name of----” - -He stopped abruptly--a look of pain and terror and effort flashed into -his eyes,--his hands fell on the keys of the piano with a discordant -jangle,--he stared about him, wondering and afraid. - -“The name--the name!” he muttered hoarsely--“A flower’s name--an -angel’s name--the sweetest name I ever heard! How is this?--Am I mad -that my lips refuse to utter it? The name--the name of ... My God! my -God! I _have_ forgotten it!” - -And springing from his chair he stood for one instant in mute wrath, -incredulity, and bewilderment,--then throwing himself down again, he -buried his face in his hands, his whole frame trembling with mingled -terror and awe at the mystic power of El-Râmi’s indomitable Will, -which had, he knew, forced him to forget what most he desired to -remember. - - - - - XVII. - -Within the chamber of Lilith all was very still. Zaroba sat there, -crouched down in what seemed to be her favourite and accustomed -corner, busy with the intricate thread-work which she wove with so -much celerity;--the lamp burned brightly,--there were odours of -frankincense and roses in the air,--and not so much as the sound of a -suppressed sigh or soft breath stirred the deep and almost sacred -quiet of the room. The tranced Lilith herself, pale but beautiful, lay -calm and still as ever among the glistening satin cushions of her -costly couch, and, just above her, the purple draperies that covered -the walls and ceiling were drawn aside to admit of the opening of a -previously-concealed window, through which one or two stars could be -seen dimly sparkling in the skies. A white moth, attracted by the -light, had flown in by way of this aperture, and was now fluttering -heedlessly and aimlessly round the lamp,--but by and by it took a -lower and less hazardous course, and finally settled on a shining -corner of the cushion that supported Lilith’s head. There the fragile -insect rested,--now expanding its velvety white wings, now folding -them close and extending its delicate feelers to touch and test the -glittering fabric on which it found itself at ease,--but never moving -from the spot it had evidently chosen for its night’s repose. -Suddenly, and without sound, El-Râmi entered. He advanced close up to -the couch, and looked upon the sleeping girl with an eager, almost -passionate intentness. His heart beat quickly;--a singular excitement -possessed him, and for once he was unable to analyse his own -sensations. Closer and closer he bent over Lilith’s exquisite -form,--doubtfully and with a certain scorn of himself, he took up a -shining tress of her glorious hair and looked at it curiously as -though it were something new, strange, or unnatural. The little moth, -disturbed, flew off the pillow and fluttered about his head in wild -alarm, and El-Râmi watched its reckless flight as it made off towards -the fatally-attractive lamp again, with meditative eyes, still -mechanically stroking that soft lock of Lilith’s hair which he held -between his fingers. - -“Into the light!” he murmured--“Into the very heart of the -light!--into the very core of the fire! That is the end of all -ambition--to take wings and plunge so--into the glowing, burning -molten Creative Centre--and die for our foolhardiness? Is that -all?--or is there more behind? It is a question,--who may answer it?” - -He sighed heavily, and leaned more closely over the couch, till the -soft scarcely perceptible breath from Lilith’s lips touched his cheek -warmly like a caress. Observantly, as one might study the parts of a -bird or a flower, he noted those lips, how delicately curved, how -coral-red they were,--and what a soft rose-tint, like the flush of a -pink sunrise on white flowers, was the hue which spread itself -waveringly over her cheeks,--till there,--there where the long -eyelashes curled upwards, there were fine shadows,--shadows which -suggested light,--such light as must be burning in those -sweetly-closed eyes. Then there was the pure, smooth brow, over which -little vine-like tendrils of hair caught and clung amorously,--and -then--that wondrous wealth of the hair itself which, like twin showers -of gold, shed light on either side. It was all beautiful,--a wonderful -gem of Nature’s handiwork,--a masterpiece of form and colour which, -but for him, El-Râmi, would long ere this have mouldered away to -unsightly ash and bone, in a lonely grave dug hurriedly among the -sands of the Syrian desert. He was almost, if not quite, the author of -that warm if unnatural vitality that flowed through those azure veins -and branching arteries,--he, like the Christ of Galilee, had raised -the dead to life,--ay, if he chose, he could say as the Master said to -the daughter of Jairus, “Maiden, arise!” and she would obey him--would -rise and walk, and smile and speak, and look upon the world,--if he -chose! The arrogance of Will burned in his brain;--the pride of power, -the majesty of conscious strength made his pulses beat high with -triumph beyond that of any king or emperor,--and he gazed down upon -the tranced fair form, himself entranced, and all unconscious that -Zaroba had come out of her corner, and that she now stood beside him, -watching his face with passionate and inquisitive eagerness. Just as -he reluctantly lifted himself up from his leaning position he saw her -staring at him, and a frown darkened his brows. He made his usual -imperative sign to her to leave the room,--a sign she was accustomed -to understand and to obey--but this time she remained motionless, -fixing her eyes steadily upon him. - -“The conqueror shall be conquered, El-Râmi Zarânos--” she said -slowly, pointing to the sleeping Lilith--“The victorious master over -the forces unutterable shall yet be overthrown! The work has -begun,--the small seed has been sown--the great harvest shall be -reaped. For in the history of Heaven itself certain proud angels rose -up and fought for the possession of supreme majesty and power--and -they fell,--downbeaten to the darkness,--unforgiven, and are they not -in darkness still? Even so must the haughty spirit fall that contends -against God and the Universal Law.” - -She spoke impressively, and with a certain dignity of manner that gave -an added force to her words,--but El-Râmi’s impassive countenance -showed no sign of having either heard or understood her. He merely -repeated his gesture of dismissal, and this time Zaroba obeyed it. -Wrapping her flowing robe closely about her, she withdrew, but with -evident reluctance, letting the velvet portière fall only by slow -degrees behind her, and to the last keeping her dark deep-set eyes -fixed on El-Râmi’s face. As soon as she had disappeared, he sprang to -where the dividing-curtain hid a massive door between the one room and -the ante-chamber,--this door he shut and locked,--then he returned to -the couch, and proceeded, according to his usual method, to will the -wandering spirit of his “subject” into speech. - -“Lilith! Lilith!” - -As before, he had to wait ere any reply was vouchsafed to him. -Impatiently he glanced at the clock, and counted slowly a hundred -beats. - -“Lilith!” - -She turned round towards him, smiled, and murmured something--her lips -moved, but whatever they uttered did not reach his ear. - -“Lilith! Where are you?” - -This time, her voice, though soft, was perfectly distinct. - -“Here. Close to you, with your hand on mine.” - -El-Râmi was puzzled. True, he held her left hand in his own, but she -had never described any actual sensation of human touch before. - -“Then,--can you see me?” he asked somewhat anxiously. - -The answer came sadly. - -“No. Bright air surrounds me, and the colours of the air--nothing -more.” - -“You are alone, Lilith?” - -Oh, what a sigh came heaving from her breast! - -“I am always alone!” - -Half remorseful, he heard her. She had complained of solitude -before,--and it was a thought he did not wish her to dwell upon. He -made haste to speak again. - -“Tell me,”--he said--“Where have you been, Lilith, and what have you -seen?” - -There was silence for a minute or two, and she moved restlessly. - -“You bade me seek out Hell for you”--she murmured at last--“I have -searched, but I cannot find it.” - -Another pause, and she went on. - -“You spoke of a strange thing,” she said--“A place of punishment, of -torture, of darkness, of horror and despair,--there is no such dreary -blot on all God’s fair Creation. In all the golden spaces of the -farthest stars I find no punishment, no pain, no darkness. I can -discover nothing save beauty, light, and--Love!” - -The last word was uttered softly, and sounded like a note of music, -sweet but distant. - -El-Râmi listened, bewildered, and in a manner disappointed. - -“O Lilith, take heed what you say!” he exclaimed with some -passion--“No pain?--no punishment? no darkness? Then this world is -Hell and you know naught of it!” - -As he said this, she moved uneasily among her pillows,--then, to his -amazement, she suddenly sat up of her own accord, and went on -speaking, enunciating her words with singular clearness and emphasis, -always keeping her eyes closed and allowing her left hand to remain in -his. - -“I am bound to tell you what I know;”--she said--“But I am unable to -tell you what is not true. In God’s design I find no evil--no -punishment, no death. If there are such things, they must be in your -world alone,--they must be Man’s work and Man’s imagining.” - -“Man’s work--Man’s imagining?” repeated El-Râmi--“And what is man?” - -“God’s angel,” replied Lilith quickly--“With God’s own attribute of -Free-Will. He, like his Maker, doth create,--he also doth -destroy,--what he elects to do, God will not prevent. Therefore, if -Man makes Evil, Evil must exist till Man himself destroys it.” - -This was a deep and strange saying, and El-Râmi pondered over it -without speaking. - -“In the spaces where I roam,” went on Lilith softly--“there is no -evil. Those who are the Makers of Life in yonder fair regions seek -only what is pure. Why should pain exist, or sin be known? I do not -understand.” - -“No”--said El-Râmi bitterly--“You do not understand, because you are -yourself too happy,--happiness sees no fault in anything. Oh, you have -wandered too far from earth and you forget! The tie that binds you to -this planet is over-fragile,--you have lost touch with pain. I would -that I could make you feel my thoughts!--for, Lilith, God is cruel, -not kind, ... upon God, and God alone, rests the weight of woe that -burdens the universe, and for the eternal sorrow of things there is -neither reason nor remedy.” - -Lilith sank back again in a recumbent posture, a smile upon her lips. - -“O poor blind eyes!” she murmured--“Sad eyes that are so tired--too -tired to bear the light!” - -Her voice was so exquisitely pathetic that he was startled by its very -gentleness,--his heart gave one fierce bound against his side, and -then seemed almost to stand still. - -“You pity me?” he asked tremulously. - -She sighed. “I pity you”--she answered--“I pity myself.” - -Almost breathlessly he asked “Why?” - -“Because I cannot see you--because you cannot see me. If I could see -you--if you could see me as I am, you would know all--you would -understand all.” - -“I do see you, Lilith,” he said--“I hold your hand.” - -“No--not my real hand”--she said--“Only its shadow.” - -Instinctively he looked at the delicate fingers that lay in his -palm--so rosy-tipped and warm. Only the “shadow” of a hand! Then where -was its substance? - -“It will pass away”--went on Lilith--“like all shadows--but _I_ shall -remain--not here, not here,--but elsewhere. When will you let me go?” - -“Where do you wish to go?” he asked. - -“To my friends,” she answered swiftly and with eagerness--“They call -me often--I hear their voices singing ‘Lilith! Lilith!’ and sometimes -I see them beckoning me--but I cannot reach them. It is cruel, for -they love me and you do not,--why will you keep me here unloved so -long?” - -He trembled and hesitated, fixing his dark eyes on the fair face, -which, in spite of its beauty, was to him but as the image of a Sphinx -that for ever refused to give up its riddle. - -“Is love your craving, Lilith?” he asked slowly--“And what is your -thought--or dream--of love?” - -“Love is no dream;”--she responded--“Love is reality--Love is Life. I -am not fully living yet--I hover in the Realms Between, where spirits -wait in silence and alone.” - -He sighed. “Then you are sad, Lilith?” - -“No. I am never sad. There is light within my solitude, and the glory -of God’s beauty everywhere.” - -El-Râmi gazed down upon her, an expression very like despair -shadowing his own features. - -“Too far, too far she wends her flight;”--he muttered to himself -wearily. “How can I argue on these vague and sublimated utterances! I -cannot understand her joy--she cannot understand my pain. Evidently -Heaven’s language is incomprehensible to mortal ears. And -yet;--Lilith!” he called again almost imperiously. “You talk of God as -if you knew Him. But I--I know Him not--I have not proved Him; tell me -of His Shape, His Seeming,--if indeed you have the power.” - -She was silent. He studied her tranquil face intently,--the smile upon -it was in very truth divine. - -“No answer!” he said with some derision. “Of course,--what answer -should there be! What Shape or Seeming should there be to a mere huge -blind Force that creates without reason, and destroys without -necessity!” - -As he thus soliloquised, Lilith stirred, and flung her white arms -upward as though in ecstasy, letting them fall slowly afterwards in a -folded position behind her head. - -“To the seven declared tones of Music, add seventy million more,”--she -said--“and let them ring their sweetest cadence, they shall make but a -feeble echo of the music of God’s voice! To all the shades of radiant -colour, to all the lines of noblest form, add the splendour of eternal -youth, eternal goodness, eternal joy, eternal power, and yet we shall -not render into speech or song the beauty of our God! From His glance -flows Light--from His presence rushes Harmony,--as He moves through -Space great worlds are born; and at His bidding planets grow within -the air like flowers. Oh to see Him passing ’mid the stars!----” - -She broke off suddenly and drew a long deep breath, as of sheer -delight,--but the shadow on El-Râmi’s features darkened wearily. - -“You teach me nothing, Lilith”--he said sadly and somewhat -sternly--“You speak of what you see--or what you think you see--but -you cannot convince me of its truth.” - -Her face grew paler,--the smile vanished from her lips, and all her -delicate beauty seemed to freeze into a cold and grave rigidity. - -“Love begets faith;”--she said--“Where we do not love, we doubt. Doubt -breeds Evil, and Evil knows not God.” - -“Platitudes, upon my life!--mere platitudes!” exclaimed El-Râmi -bitterly--“If this half-released spirit can do no more than prate of -the same old laws and duties our preachers teach us, then indeed my -service is vain. But she shall not baffle me thus;”--and, bending over -Lilith’s figure, he unwound her arms from the indolent position in -which they were folded, took her hands roughly in his own, and, -sitting on the edge of her couch, fixed his burning eyes upon her as -though he sought to pierce her to the heart’s core with their ardent, -almost cruel lustre. - -“Lilith!” he commanded--“Speak plainly, that I may fully understand -your words. You say there is no hell?” - -The answer came steadily. - -“None.” - -“Then must evil go unpunished?” - -“Evil wreaks punishment upon itself. Evil destroys itself. That is the -Law.” - -“And the Prophets!” muttered El-Râmi scornfully--“Well! Go on, -strange sprite! Why--for such things are known--why does goodness -suffer for being good?” - -“That never is. That is impossible.” - -“Impossible?” queried El-Râmi incredulously. - -“Impossible,”--repeated, the soft voice firmly. “Goodness _seems_ to -suffer, but it does not. Evil _seems_ to prosper, but it does not.” - -“And God exists?” - -“God exists.” - -“And what of Heaven?” - -“Which heaven?” asked Lilith--“There are a million million heavens.” - -El-Râmi stopped--thinking,--then finally said-- - -“God’s Heaven.” - -“You would say God’s World;”--returned Lilith tranquilly--“Nay, you -will not let me reach that centre. I see it; I feel it afar off--but -your will binds me--you will not let me go.” - -“If I were to let you go, what would you do?” asked El-Râmi--“Would -you return to me?” - -“Never! Those who enter the Perfect Glory return no more to an -imperfect light.” - -El-Râmi paused--he was arranging other questions to ask, when her -next words startled him-- - -“Some one called me by my name,”--she said--“Tenderly and softly, as -though it were a name beloved. I heard the voice--I could not -answer--but I heard it--and I know that some one loves me. The sense -of love is sweet, and makes your dreary world seem fair!” - -El-Râmi’s heart began to beat violently--the voice of Féraz had -reached her in her trance then after all! And she remembered it!--more -than this--it had carried a vague emotion of love to that vagrant and -ethereal essence which he called her “soul” but which he had his -doubts of all the while. For he was unable to convince himself -positively of any such thing as “Soul”;--all emotions, even of the -most divinely transcendent nature, he was disposed to set down to the -action of brain merely. But he was scientist enough to know that the -brain must gather its ideas from _something_,--something either -external or internal,--even such a vague thing as an Idea cannot -spring out of blank Chaos. And this was what especially puzzled him in -his experiment with the girl Lilith--for, ever since he had placed her -in the “life-in-death” condition she was, he had been careful to avoid -impressing any of his own thoughts or ideas upon her. And, as a matter -of fact, all she said about God, or about a present or a future state, -was precisely the reverse of what he himself argued;--the question -therefore remained--From Where and How did she get her knowledge? She -had been a mere pretty, ignorant, half-barbaric Arab child, when she -_died_ (according to natural law), and, during the six years she had -_lived_ (by scientific law) in her strange trance, her brain had been -absolutely unconscious of all external impressions, while of internal -she could have none, beyond the memories of her childhood. Yet,--she -had grown beautiful beyond the beauty of mortals, and she spoke of -things beyond all mortal comprehension. The riddle of her physical and -mental development seemed unanswerable,--it was the wonder, the -puzzle, the difficulty, the delight of all El-Râmi’s hours. But now -there was mischief done. She spoke of love,--not divine impersonal -love, as was her wont,--but love that touched her own existence with -a vaguely pleasing emotion. A voice had reached her that never should -have been allowed to penetrate her spiritual solitude, and realising -this, a sullen anger smouldered in El-Râmi’s mind. He strove to -consider Zaroba’s fault and Féraz’s folly with all the leniency, -forbearance, and forgiveness possible, and yet the strange -restlessness within him gave him no peace. What should be done? What -could be answered to those wistful words--“The sense of love is sweet, -and makes your dreary world seem fair”? - -He pondered on the matter, vaguely uneasy and dissatisfied. He, and he -alone, was the master of Lilith,--he commanded and she obeyed,--but -would it be always thus? The doubt turned his blood cold,--suppose she -escaped him now, after all his studies and calculations! He resolved -he would ask her no more questions that night, and very gently he -released the little slender hands he held. - -“Go, Lilith!” he said softly--“This world, as you say, is dreary--I -will not keep you longer in its gloom--go hence and rest.” - -“Rest?” sighed Lilith inquiringly--“Where?” - -He bent above her, and touched her loose gold locks almost -caressingly. - -“Where you choose!” - -“Nay, that I may not!” murmured Lilith sadly. “I have no choice--I -must obey the Master’s will.” - -El-Râmi’s heart beat high with triumph at these words. - -“_My_ will!” he said, more to himself than to her--“The force of -it!--the marvel of it!--_my_ will!” - -Lilith heard,--a strange glory seemed to shine round her, like a halo -round a pictured saint, and the voice that came from her lips rang out -with singularly sweet clearness. - -“Your will!” she echoed--“Your will--and also--God’s will!” - -He started, amazed and irresolute. The words were not what he -expected, and he would have questioned their meaning, but that he saw -on the girl’s lovely features a certain pale composed look which he -recognised as the look that meant silence. - -“Lilith!” he whispered. - -No answer. He stood looking down upon her, his face seeming sterner -and darker than usual by reason of the intense, passionate anxiety in -his burning eyes. - -“God’s will!” he echoed with some disdain--“God’s will would have -annihilated her very existence long ago out in the desert;--what -should God do with her now that I have not done?” - -His arrogance seemed to be perfectly justifiable; and yet he very well -knew that, strictly speaking, there was no such thing as -“annihilation” possible to any atom in the universe. Moreover, he did -not choose to analyse the mystical reasons as to _why_ he had been -permitted by Fate or Chance to obtain such mastery over one human -soul,--he preferred to attribute it all to his own discoveries in -science,--his own patient and untiring skill,--his own studious -comprehension of the forces of Nature,--and he was nearly, if not -quite, oblivious of the fact that there is a Something behind natural -forces, which knows and sees, controls and commands, and against -which, if he places himself in opposition, Man is but the puniest, -most wretched straw that was ever tossed or split by a whirlwind. As a -rule, men of science work not for God so much as against -Him,--wherefore their most brilliant researches stop short of the -goal. Great intellects are seldom devout,--for brilliant culture -begets pride--and pride is incompatible with faith or worship. Perfect -science, combined with perfect selflessness, would give us what we -need,--a purified and reasoning Religion. But El-Râmi’s chief -characteristic was pride,--and he saw no mischief in it. Strong in his -knowledge,--defiant of evil in the consciousness he possessed of his -own extraordinary physical and mental endowments, he saw no reason why -he should bow down in humiliated abasement before forces, either -natural or spiritual, which he deemed himself able to control. And his -brow cleared, as he once more bent over his tranced “subject” and, -with all the methodical precaution of a physician, felt her pulse, -took note of her temperature, and judged that for the present she -needed no more of that strange Elixir which kept her veins aglow with -such inexplicably beauteous vitality. Then--his examination done--he -left the room; and as he drew the velvet portière behind him the -little white moth that had flown in for a night’s shelter fluttered -down from the golden lamp like a falling leaf, and dropped on the -couch of Lilith, shrivelled and dead. - - - - - XVIII. - -The next day was very wet and stormy. From morning to night the rain -fell in torrents, and a cold wind blew. El-Râmi stayed indoors, -reading, writing, and answering a few of his more urgent -correspondents, a great number of whom were total strangers to him, -and who nevertheless wrote to him out of the sheer curiosity excited -in them by the perusal of a certain book to which his name was -appended as author. This book was a very original literary -production,--the critics were angry with it, because it was so unlike -anything else that ever was written. According to the theories set -forth in its pages, Man, the poor and finite, was proved to be a -creature of superhuman and almost god-like attributes,--a “flattering -unction” indeed, which when laid to the souls of commonplace egoists -had the effect of making them consider El-Râmi Zarânos a very -wonderful person, and themselves more wonderful still. Only the truly -great mind is humble enough to appreciate greatness, and of great -minds there is a great scarcity. Most of El-Râmi’s correspondents -were of that lower order of intelligence which blandly accepts every -fresh truth discovered as specially intended for themselves, and not -at all for the world, as though indeed they were some particular and -removed class of superior beings who alone were capable of -understanding true wisdom. “Your work has appealed to _me_”--wrote -one, “as it will not appeal to all, because I am able to enter into -the divine spirit of things as the _vulgar herd_ cannot do!” This, as -if the “vulgar herd” were not also part of the “divine spirit of -things”! - -“I have delighted in your book”--wrote another, “because I am a poet, -and the world, with its low aims and lower desires, I abhor and -despise!” - -The absurdity of a man presuming to call himself a poet, and in the -same breath declaring he “despises” the world,--the world which -supports his life and provides him with all his needs,--never seems to -occur to the minds of these poor boasters of a petty vanity. El-Râmi -looked weary enough as he glanced quickly through a heap of such -ill-judged and egotistical epistles, and threw them aside to be for -ever left unanswered. To him there was something truly horrible and -discouraging in the contemplation of the hopeless, helpless, absolute -stupidity of the majority of mankind. The teachings of Mother Nature -being always straight and plain, it _is_ remarkable what devious -turnings and dark winding ways we prefer to stumble into rather than -take the fair and open course. For example Nature says to us--“My -children, Truth is simple,--and I am bound by all my forces to assist -its manifestation. A Lie is difficult--I can have none of it--it needs -other lies to keep it going,--its ways are full of complexity and -puzzle,--why then, O foolish ones, will you choose the Lie and avoid -the Truth? For, work as you may, the Truth must out, and not all the -uproar of opposing multitudes can still its thunderous tongue.” Thus -Nature;--but we heed her not,--we go on lying steadfastly, in a -strange delusion that thereby we may deceive Eternal Justice. But -Eternal Justice never is deceived,--never is obscured even, save for a -moment, as a passing cloud obscures the sun. - -“How easy after all to avoid mischief of any kind,” mused El-Râmi -now, as he put by his papers and drew two or three old reference -volumes towards him--“How easy to live happily, free from care, free -from sickness, free from every external or internal wretchedness, if -we could but practise the one rule--Self-abnegation. It is all -there,--and the ethereal Lilith may be right in her assurance as to -the non-existence of Evil unless we ourselves create it. At least one -half the trouble in the world might be avoided if we chose. Debt, for -example,--that carking trouble always arises from living beyond one’s -means,--therefore _why_ live beyond one’s means? What for? Show? -Vulgar ostentation? Luxury? Idleness? All these are things against -which Heaven raises its eternal ban. Then take physical pain and -sickness,--here Self is to blame again,--self-indulgence in the -pleasures of the table,--sensual craving--the marriage of weakly or -ill-conditioned persons,--all simple causes from which spring -incalculable evils. Avoid the causes and we escape the evils. The -arrangements of Nature are all so clear and explicit, and yet we are -for ever going out of our way to find or invent difficulties. The -farmer grumbles and writes letters to the newspapers if his -turnip-fields are invaded by what he deems a ‘destructive pest’ in the -way of moth or caterpillar, and utterly ignores the fact that these -insects always appear for some wise reason or other, which he, -absorbed in his own immediate petty interests, fails to appreciate. -His turnips are eaten,--that is all he thinks or cares about,--but if -he knew that those same turnips contain a particular microbe poisonous -to human life, a germ of typhoid, cholera, or the like, drawn up from -the soil and ready to fructify in the blood of cattle or of men, and -that these insects of which he complains are the scavengers sent by -Nature to utterly destroy the Plague in embryo, he might pause in his -grumbling to wonder at so much precaution taken by the elements for -the preservation of his unworthy and ignorant being. Perplexing and at -times maddening is this our curse of Ignorance,--but that the ‘sins of -the fathers are visited on the children’ is a true saying is -evident--for the faults of generations are still bred in our blood and -bone.” - -He turned over the first volume before him listlessly,--his mind was -not set upon study, and his attention wandered. He was thinking of -Féraz, with whom he had scarcely exchanged a word all day. He had -lacked nothing in the way of service, for swift and courteous -obedience to his brother’s wishes had characterised Féraz in every -simple action, but there was a constraint between the two that had not -previously existed. Féraz bore himself with a stately yet sad -hauteur,--he had the air of a proud prince in chains who, being -captive, performed his prison work with exactitude and resignation as -a matter of discipline and duty. It was curious that El-Râmi, who had -steeled himself as he imagined against every tender sentiment, should -now feel the want of the impetuous confidence and grace of manner with -which his young brother had formerly treated him. - -“Everything changes--” he mused gloomily, “Everything _must_ change, -of course; and nothing is so fluctuating as the humour of a boy who is -not yet a man, but is on the verge of manhood. And with Féraz my -power has reached its limit,--I know exactly what I can do, and what I -can _not_ do with him,--it is a case of ‘Thus far and no farther.’ -Well,--he must choose his own way of life,--only let him not presume -to set himself in _my_ way, or interfere in _my_ work! Ye gods!--there -is nothing I would not do----” - -He paused, ashamed; the blood flushed his face darkly and his hand -clenched itself involuntarily. Conscious of the thought that had -arisen within him, he felt a moment’s shuddering horror of himself. He -knew that in the very depths of his nature there was enough untamed -savagery to make him capable of crushing his young brother’s life out -of him, should he dare to obstruct his path or oppose him in his -labours. Realising this, a cold dew broke out on his forehead and he -trembled. - -“O Soul of Lilith that cannot understand Evil!” he exclaimed--“Whence -came this evil thought in me? Does the evil in myself engender -it?--and does the same bitter gall that stirred the blood of Cain lurk -in the depths of my being, till Opportunity strikes the wicked hour? -_Retro me, Sathanas!_ After all, there was something in the old -beliefs--the pious horror of a devil,--for a devil there is that walks -the world, and his name is Man!” - -He rose and paced the room impatiently,--what a long day it seemed, -and with what dreary persistence the rain washed against the windows! -He looked out into the street,--there was not a passenger to be -seen,--a wet dingy grayness pervaded the atmosphere and made -everything ugly and cheerless. He went back to his books, and -presently began to turn over the pages of the quaint Arabic volume -into which Féraz had unwisely dipped, gathering therefrom a crumb of -knowledge, which, like all scrappy information, had only led him to -discontent. - -“All these old experiments of the Egyptian priests were simple -enough--” he murmured as he read,--“They had one substratum of -science,--the art of bringing the countless atoms that fill the air -into temporary shape. The trick is so easy and natural that I fancy -there must have been a certain condition of the atmosphere in earlier -ages which _of itself_ shaped the atoms,--hence the ideas of nymphs, -dryads, fauns, and water-sprites; these temporary shapes which dazzled -for some fleeting moments the astonished human eye and so gave rise to -all the legends. To shape the atoms as a sculptor shapes clay, is but -a phase of chemistry,--a pretty experiment--yet what a miracle it -would always seem to the uninstructed multitude!” - -He unlocked a drawer in his desk, and took from it a box full of red -powder, and two small flasks, one containing minute globules of a -glittering green colour like tiny emeralds,--the other full of a pale -amber liquid. He smiled as he looked at these ingredients,--and then -he gave a glance out through the window at the dark and rainy -afternoon. - -“To pass the time, why not?” he queried half aloud. “One needs a -little diversion sometimes even in science.” - -Whereupon he placed some of the red powder in a small bronze vessel -and set fire to it. A thick smoke arose at once and filled the room -with cloud that emitted a pungent perfume, and in which his own figure -was scarcely discernible. He cast five or six of the little green -globules into this smoke; they dissolved in their course and melted -within it,--and finally he threw aloft a few drops of the amber -liquid. The effect was extraordinary, and would have seemed incredible -to any onlooker, for through the cloud a roseate Shape made itself -slowly visible,--a Shape that was surrounded with streaks of light and -rainbow flame as with a garland. Vague at first, but soon growing more -distinct, it gathered itself into seeming substance, and floated -nearly to the ground,--then rising again, balanced itself lightly like -a blown feather sideways upon the dense mist that filled the air. In -form this “coruscation of atoms,” as El-Râmi called it, resembled a -maiden in the bloom of youth,--her flowing hair, her sparkling eyes, -her smiling lips, were all plainly discernible;--but, that she was a -mere phantasm and creature of the cloud was soon made plain, for -scarcely had she declared herself in all her rounded laughing -loveliness than she melted away and passed into nothingness like a -dream. The cloud of smoke grew thinner and thinner, till it vanished -also so completely that there was no more left of it than a pale blue -ring such as might have been puffed from a stray cigar. El-Râmi, -leaning lazily back in his chair, had watched the whole development -and finish of his “experiment” with indolent interest and amusement. - -“How admirably the lines of beauty are always kept in these -effects,”--he said to himself when it was over,--“and what a fortune I -could make with that one example of the concentration of atoms if I -chose to pass as a Miracle-maker. Moses was an adept at this kind of -thing; so also was a certain Egyptian priest named Borsa of Memphis, -who just for that same graceful piece of chemistry was judged by the -people as divine,--made king,--and loaded with wealth and -honour;--excellent and most cunning Borsa! But we--we do not judge any -one “divine” in these days of ours, not even God,--for He is supposed -to be simply the lump of leaven working through the loaf of -matter,--though it will always remain a question as to why there is -any leaven or any loaf at all existing.” - -He fell into a train of meditation, which caused him presently to take -up his pen and write busily many pages of close manuscript. Féraz -came in at the usual hour with supper,--and then only he ceased -working, and shared the meal with his young brother, talking -cheerfully, though saying little but commonplaces, and skilfully -steering off any allusion to subjects which might tend to increase -Féraz’s evident melancholy. Once he asked him rather abruptly why he -had not played any music that day. - -“I do not know”--answered the young man coldly--“I seem to have -forgotten music--with other things.” - -He spoke meaningly;--El-Râmi laughed, relieved and light at heart. -Those “other things” meant the name of Lilith, which his will had -succeeded in erasing from his brother’s memory. His eyes sparkled, and -his voice gathered new richness and warmth of feeling as he said -kindly-- - -“I think not, Féraz,--I think you cannot have forgotten music. Surely -it is no extraneous thing, but part of you,--a lovely portion of your -life which you would be loath to miss. Here is your little neglected -friend,”--and, rising, he took out of its case an exquisitely-shaped -mandolin inlaid with pearl--“The dear old lute,--for lute it is, -though modernised,--the same-shaped instrument on which the rose and -fuchsia-crowned youths of old Pompeii played the accompaniment to -their love songs; the same, the very same on which the long-haired, -dusky-skinned maids of Thebes and Memphis thrummed their strange -uncouth ditties to their black-browed warrior kings. I like it better -than the violin--its form is far more pleasing--we can see Apollo with -a lute, but it is difficult to fancy the Sun-god fitting his graceful -arm to the contorted positions of a fiddle. Play something, -Féraz”--and he smiled winningly as he gave the mandolin into his -brother’s hands--“Here,”--and he detached the plectrum from its place -under the strings--“With this little piece of oval tortoiseshell, you -can set the nerves of music quivering,--those silver wires will answer -to your touch like the fibres of the human heart struck by the -_tremolo_ of passion.” - -He paused,--his eyes were full, of an ardent light, and Féraz looked -at him wonderingly. What a voice he had!--how eloquently he -spoke!--how noble and thoughtful were his features!--and what an air -of almost pathetic dignity was given to his face by that curiously -snow-white hair of his, which so incongruously suggested age in youth! -Poor Féraz!--his heart swelled within him; love and secret admiration -for his brother contended with a sense of outraged pride in -himself,--and yet--he felt his sullen _amour-propre_, his instinct of -rebellion, and his distrustful reserve all oozing away under the spell -of El-Râmi’s persuasive tongue and fascinating manner,--and to escape -from his own feelings, he bent over the mandolin and tried its chords -with a trembling hand and downcast eyes. - -“You speak of passion,” he said in a low voice--“but you have never -known it.” - -“Oh, have I not!” and El-Râmi laughed lightly as he resumed his -seat--“Nay, if I had not I should be more than man. The lightning has -flashed across my path, Féraz, I assure you, only it has not killed -me; and I have been ready to shed my blood drop by drop, for so slight -and imperfect a production of Nature as--a woman! A thing of white -flesh and soft curves, and long hair and large eyes, and a laugh like -the tinkle of a fountain in our Eastern courts,--a thing with less -mind than a kitten, and less fidelity than a hound. Of course there -are clever women and faithful women,--but then we men seldom choose -these; we are fools, and we pay for our folly. And I also have been a -fool in my time,--why should you imagine I have not? It is flattering -to me, but why?” - -Féraz looked at him again, and in spite of himself smiled, though -reluctantly. - -“You always seem to treat all earthly emotions with scorn--” he -replied evasively, “And once you told me there was no such thing in -the world as love.” - -“Nor is there--” said El-Râmi quickly--“Not ideal love--not -everlasting love. Love in its highest, purest sense, belongs to other -planets--in this its golden wings are clipped, and it becomes nothing -more than a common and vulgar physical attraction.” - -Féraz thrummed his mandolin softly. - -“I saw two lovers the other day--” he said--“They seemed divinely -happy.” - -“Where did you see them?” - -“Not here. In the land I know best--my Star.” - -El-Râmi looked at him curiously, but forbore to speak. - -“They were beautiful--” went on Féraz. “They were resting together on -a bank of flowers in a little nook of that lovely forest where there -are thousands of song-birds sweeter than nightingales. Music filled -the air,--a rosy glory filled the sky,--their arms were twined around -each other,--their lips met, and then--oh, then their joy smote me -with fear, because,--because _I_ was alone--and they were--together!” - -His voice trembled. El-Râmi’s smile had in it something of -compassion. - -“Love in your Star is a dream, Féraz--” he said gently--“But love -here--here in this phase of things we call Reality,--means,--do you -know what it means?” - -Féraz shook his head. - -“It means Money. It means lands, and houses and a big balance at the -bank. Lovers do not subsist here on flowers and music,--they have -rather more vulgar and substantial appetites. Love here is the -disillusion of Love--there, in the region you speak of, it may -perchance be perfect----” - -A sudden rush of rain battering at the windows, accompanied by a gust -of wind, interrupted him. - -“What a storm!” exclaimed Féraz, looking up--“And you are -expecting----” - -A measured rat-tat-tat at the door came at that moment, and El-Râmi -sprang to his feet. Féraz rose also, and set aside his mandolin. -Another gust of wind whistled by, bringing with it a sweeping torrent -of hail. - -“Quick!” said El-Râmi, in a somewhat agitated voice--“It is--you know -who it is. Give him reverent greeting, Féraz--and show him at once in -here.” - -Féraz withdrew,--and, when he had disappeared, El-Râmi looked about -him vaguely with the bewildered air of a man who would fain escape -from some difficult position, could he but discover an egress,--a -slight shudder ran through his frame, and he heaved a deep sigh. - -“Why has he come to me!” he muttered, “Why--after all these years of -absolute silence and indifference to my work, does he seek me now?” - - - - - XIX. - -Standing in an attitude more of resignation than expectancy, he -waited, listening. He heard the street-door open and shut again,--then -came a brief pause, followed by the sound of a firm step in the outer -hall,--and Féraz re-appeared, ushering in with grave respect a man of -stately height and majestic demeanour, cloaked in a heavy travelling -ulster, the hood of which was pulled cowl-like over his head and -almost concealed his features. - -“Greeting to El-Râmi Zarânos--” said a rich mellow voice, “And so -this is the weather provided by an English month of May! Well, it -might be worse,--certes, also, it might be better. I should have -disburdened myself of these ‘lendings’ in the hall, but that I knew -not whether you were quite alone--” and, as he spoke, he threw off his -cloak, which dripped with rain, and handed it to Féraz, disclosing -himself in the dress of a Carthusian monk, all save the disfiguring -tonsure. “I was not certain,” he continued cheerfully--“whether you -might be ready or willing to receive me.” - -“I am always ready for such a visitor--” said El-Râmi, advancing -hesitatingly, and with a curious diffidence in his manner--“And more -than willing. Your presence honours this poor house and brings with it -a certain benediction.” - -“Gracefully said, El-Râmi!” exclaimed the monk with a keen flash of -his deep-set blue eyes--“Where did you learn to make pretty speeches? -I remember you of old time as brusque of tongue and obstinate of -humour,--and even now humility sits ill upon you,--’tis not your -favourite practised household virtue.” - -El-Râmi flushed, but made no reply. He seemed all at once to have -become even to himself the merest foolish nobody before this his -remarkable-looking visitor with the brow and eyes of an inspired -evangelist, and the splendid lines of thought, aspiration, and -endeavour marking the already noble countenance with an expression -seldom seen on features of mortal mould. Féraz now came forward to -proffer wine and sundry other refreshments, all of which were -courteously refused. - -“This lad has grown, El-Râmi--” said the stranger, surveying Féraz -with much interest and kindliness,--“since he stayed with us in Cyprus -and studied our views of poesy and song. A promising youth he -seems,--and still your slave?” - -El-Râmi gave a gesture of deprecation. - -“You mistake--” he replied curtly--“He is my brother and my -friend,--as such he cannot be my slave. He is as free as air.” - -“Or as an eagle that ever flies back to its eyrie in the rocks out of -sheer habit--” observed the monk with a smile--“In this case you are -the eyrie, and the eagle is never absent long! Well--what now, pretty -lad?” this, as Féraz, moved by a sudden instinct which he could not -explain to himself, dropped reverently on one knee. - -“Your blessing--” he murmured timidly. “I have heard it said that your -touch brings peace,--and I--I am not at peace.” - -The monk looked at him benignly. - -“We live in a world of storm, my boy--” he said gently--“where there -is no peace but the peace of the inner spirit. That, with your youth -and joyous nature, you should surely possess,--and, if you have it -not, may God grant it you! ’Tis the best blessing I can devise.” - -And he signed the Cross on the young man’s forehead with a gentle -lingering touch,--a touch under which Féraz trembled and sighed for -pleasure, conscious of the delicious restfulness and ease that seemed -suddenly to pervade his being. - -“What a child he is still, this brother of yours!” then said the monk, -turning abruptly towards El-Râmi--“He craves a blessing,--while you -have progressed beyond all such need!” - -El-Râmi raised his dark eyes,--eyes full of a burning pain and -pride,--but made no answer. The monk looked at him steadily--and -heaved a quick sigh. - -“_Vigilate et orate ut non intretis in tentationem!_” he -murmured,--“Truly, to forgive is easy--but to forget is difficult. I -have much to say to you, El-Râmi,--for this is the last time I shall -meet you ‘before I go hence and be no more seen.’” - -Féraz uttered an involuntary exclamation. - -“You do not mean,” he said almost breathlessly--“that you are going to -die?” - -“Assuredly not!” replied the monk with a smile--“I am going to live. -Some people call it dying--but we know better,--we know we cannot -die.” - -“We are not sure--” began El-Râmi. - -“Speak for yourself, my friend!” said the monk cheerily--“_I_ am -sure,--and so are those who labour with me. I am not made of -perishable composition any more than the dust is perishable. Every -grain of dust contains a germ of life--I am co-equal with the dust, -and I contain my germ also, of life that is capable of infinite -reproduction.” - -El-Râmi looked at him dubiously yet wonderingly. He seemed the very -embodiment of physical strength and vitality, yet he only compared -himself to a grain of dust. And the very dust held the seeds of -life!--true!--then, after all, was there anything in the universe, -however small and slight, that could die _utterly_? And was Lilith -right when she said there was _no_ death? Wearily and impatiently -El-Râmi pondered the question,--and he almost started with nervous -irritation when the slight noise of the door shutting told him that -Féraz had retired, leaving him and his mysterious visitant alone -together. - -Some minutes passed in silence. The monk sat quietly in El-Râmi’s own -chair, and El-Râmi himself stood close by, waiting, as it seemed, for -something; with an air of mingled defiance and appeal. Outside, the -rain and wind continued their gusty altercation;--inside, the lamp -burned brightly, shedding warmth and lustre on the student-like -simplicity of the room. It was the monk himself who at last broke the -spell of the absolute stillness. - -“You wonder,” he said slowly--“at the reason of my coming here,--to -you who are a recreant from the mystic tie of our brotherhood,--to -you, who have employed the most sacred and venerable secrets of our -Order, to wrest from Life and Nature the material for your own -self-interested labours. You think I come for information--you think I -wish to hear from your own lips the results of your scientific scheme -of supernatural ambition,--alas, El-Râmi Zarânos!--how little you -know me! Prayer has taught me more science than Science will ever -grasp,--there is nothing in all the catalogue of your labours that I -do not understand, and you can give me no new message from lands -beyond the sun. I have come to you out of simple pity,--to warn you -and if possible to save.” - -El-Râmi’s dark eyes opened wide in astonishment. - -“To warn me?” he echoed--“To save? From what?--Such a mission to me is -incomprehensible.” - -“Incomprehensible to your stubborn spirit,--yes, no doubt it is--” -said the monk, with a touch of stern reproach in his accents,--“For -you will not see that the Veil of the Eternal, though it may lift -itself for you a little from other men’s lives, hangs dark across your -own, and is impervious to your gaze. You will not grasp the fact that, -though it may be given to you to read other men’s passions, you cannot -read your own. You have begun at the wrong end of the mystery, -El-Râmi,--you should have mastered yourself first, before seeking to -master others. And now there is danger ahead of you--be wise in -time,--accept the truth before it is too late.” - -El-Râmi listened, impatient and incredulous. - -“Accept what truth?” he asked somewhat bitterly--“Am I not searching -for truth everywhere? and seeking to prove it? Give me any sort of -truth to hold, and I will grasp it as a drowning sailor grasps the -rope of rescue!” - -The monk’s eyes rested on him in mingled compassion and sorrow. - -“After all these years--” he said--“are you still asking Pilate’s -question?” - -“Yes--I am still asking Pilate’s question!” retorted El-Râmi with -sudden passion--“See you--I know who you are,--great and wise, a -master of the arts and sciences, and with all your stores of learning, -still a servant of Christ, which to me is the wildest, maddest -incongruity. I grant you that Christ was the holiest man that ever -lived on earth,--and if I swear a thing in His name I swear an oath -that shall not be broken. But in His Divinity, I cannot, I may not, I -dare not believe!--except in so far that there is divinity in all of -us. One man, born of woman, destined to regenerate the world!--the -idea is stupendous,--but impossible to reason!” - -He paced the room impatiently. - -“If I could believe it--I say ‘if,’”--he continued, “I should still -think it a clumsy scheme. For every human creature living should be a -reformer and regenerator of his race.” - -“Like yourself?” queried the monk calmly. “What have _you_ done, for -example?” - -El-Râmi stopped in his walk to and fro. - -“What have I done?” he repeated--“Why--nothing! You deem me proud and -ambitious,--but I am humble enough to know how little I know. And as -to proofs,--well, it is the same story--I have proved--nothing.” - -“So! Then are your labours wasted?” - -“Nothing is wasted,--according to _your_ theories even. Your -theories--many of them--are beautiful and soul-satisfying, and this -one of there being no waste in the economy of the universe is, I -believe, true. But I cannot accept all you teach. I broke my -connection with you because I could not bend my spirit to the level of -the patience you enjoined. It was not rebellion,--no! for I loved and -honoured you--and I still revere you more than any man alive, but I -cannot bow my neck to the yoke you consider so necessary. To begin all -work by first admitting one’s weakness!--no!--Power is gained by -never-resting ambition, not by a merely laborious humility.” - -“Opinions differ on that point”--said the monk quietly--“I never -sought to check your ambition--I simply said--Take God with you. Do -not leave Him out. He IS. Therefore His existence must be included in -everything, even in the scientific examination of a drop of dew. -Without Him you grope in the dark--you lack the key to the mystery. As -an example of this, you are yourself battering against a shut door, -and fighting with a Force too strong for you.” - -“I must have proofs of God!” said El-Râmi very deliberately--“Nature -proves her existence; let God prove His!” - -“And does He not prove it?” inquired the monk with mingled passion and -solemnity--“Have you to go farther than the commonest flower to find -Him?” - -El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders with an air of light disdain. - -“Nature is Nature,”--he said--“God--an there be a God--is God. If God -works through Nature He arranges things very curiously on a system of -mutual destruction. You talk of flowers,--they contain both poisonous -and healing properties,--and the poor human race has to study and toil -for years before finding out which is which. Is that just of -Nature--or God? Children never know at all,--and the poor little -wretches die often through eating poison-berries of whose deadly -nature they were not aware. That is what I complain of--we are not -aware of evil, and we are not made aware. We have to find it out for -ourselves. And I maintain that it is wanton cruelty on the part of the -Divine Element to punish us for ignorance which we cannot help. And so -the plan of mutual destructiveness goes on, with the most admirable -persistency; the eater is in turn eaten, and, as far as I can make -out, this seems to be the one Everlasting Law. Surely it is an odd and -inconsequential arrangement? As for the business of creation, that is -easy, if once we grant the existence of certain component parts of -space. Look at this, for example”--and he took from a corner a thin -steel rod about the size of an ordinary walking cane--“If I use this -magnet, and these few crystals”--and he opened a box on the table, -containing some sparkling powder like diamond dust, a pinch of which -he threw up into the air--“and play with them thus, you see what -happens!” - -And with a dexterous steady motion he waved the steel rod rapidly -round and round in the apparently empty space where he had tossed -aloft the pinch of powder, and gradually there grew into shape out of -the seeming nothingness a round large brilliant globe of prismatic -tints, like an enormously magnified soap-bubble, which followed the -movement of the steel magnet rapidly and accurately. The monk lifted -himself a little in his chair and watched the operation with interest -and curiosity--till presently El-Râmi dropped the steel rod from -sheer fatigue of arm. But the globe went on revolving steadily by -itself for a time, and El-Râmi pointed to it with a smile-- - -“If I had the skill to send that bubble-sphere out into space, -solidify it, and keep it perpetually rolling,” he said lightly, “it -would in time exhale its own atmosphere and produce life, and I should -be a very passable imitation of the Creator.” - -At that moment the globe broke, and vanished like a melting snowflake, -leaving no trace of its existence but a little white dust which fell -in a round circle on the carpet. After this display, El-Râmi waited -for his guest to speak, but the monk said nothing. - -“You see,” continued El-Râmi--“it requires a great deal to satisfy -_me_ with proofs. I must have tangible Fact, not vague Imagining.” - -The monk raised his eyes,--what searching calm eyes they were!--and -fixed them full on the speaker. - -“Your Sphere was a Fact,”--he said quietly--“Visible to the eye, it -glittered and whirled--but it was not tangible, and it had no life in -it. It is a fair example of other Facts,--so called. And you could not -have created so much as that perishable bubble, had not God placed the -materials in your hands. It is odd you seem to forget that. No one can -work without the materials for working,--the question remains, from -Whence came those materials?” - -El-Râmi smiled with a touch of scorn. - -“Rightly are you called Supreme Master!” he said--“for your faith is -marvellous--your ideas of life both here and hereafter, beautiful. I -wish I could accept them. But I cannot. Your way does not seem to me -clear or reasonable,--and I have thought it out in every direction. -Take the doctrine of original sin for example--what _is_ original sin, -and why should it exist?” - -“It does not exist--” said the monk quickly--“except in so far that -_we_ have created it. It is we, therefore, who must destroy it.” - -El-Râmi paused, thinking. This was the same lesson Lilith had taught. - -“If we created it--” he said at last, “and there is a God who is -omnipotent, why were we _allowed_ to create it?” - -The monk turned round in his chair with ever so slight a gesture of -impatience. - -“How often have I told you, El-Râmi Zarânos,” he said,--“of the gift -and responsibility bestowed on every human unit--Free-Will. You, who -seek for proofs of the Divine, should realise that this is the only -proof we have in ourselves of our close relation to ‘the image of -God.’ God’s Laws exist,--and it is our first business in life to know -and understand these--afterwards, our fate is in our own hands,--if we -transgress law, or if we fulfil law, we know, or ought to know, the -results. If we choose to make evil, it exists till we destroy it--good -we cannot _make_, because it is the very breath of the Universe, but -we can choose to breathe _in_ it and _with_ it. I have so often gone -over this ground with you that it seems mere waste of words to go over -it again,--and if you cannot, will not see that you are creating your -own destiny and shaping it to your own will, apart from anything that -human or divine experience can teach you, then you are blind indeed. -But time wears on apace,--and I must speak of other things;--one -message I have for you that will doubtless cause you pain.” He waited -a moment--then went on slowly and sadly--“Yes,--the pain will be -bitter and the suffering long,--but the fiat has gone forth, and ere -long you will be called upon to render up the Soul of Lilith.” - -El-Râmi started violently,--flushed a deep red, and then grew deadly -pale. - -“You speak in enigmas--” he said huskily and with an effort--“What do -you know--how have you heard----” - -He broke off,--his voice failed him, and the monk looked at him -compassionately. - -“Judge not the power of God, El-Râmi Zarânos!” he said -solemnly--“for it seems you cannot even measure the power of man. -What!--did you think your secret experiment safely hid from all -knowledge save your own?--nay! you mistake. I have watched your -progress step by step--your proud march onward through such mysteries -as never mortal mind dared penetrate before,--but even these wonders -have their limits--and those limits are, for you, nearly reached. You -must set your captive free!” - -“Never!” exclaimed El-Râmi passionately. “Never, while I live! I defy -the heavens to rob me of her!--by every law in nature, she is mine!” - -“Peace!” said the monk sternly--“Nothing is yours,--except the fate -you have made for yourself. _That_ is yours; and that must and will be -fulfilled. That, in its own appointed time, will deprive you of -Lilith.” - -El-Râmi’s eyes flashed wrath and pain. - -“What have you to do with my fate?” he demanded--“How should you know -what is in store for me? You are judged to have a marvellous insight -into spiritual things, but it is not insight after all so much as -imagination and instinct. These may lead you wrong,--you have gained -them, as you yourself admit, through nothing but inward, concentration -and prayer--_my_ discoveries are the result of scientific -exploration,--there is no science in prayer!” - -“Is there not?”--and the monk, rising from his chair, confronted -El-Râmi with the reproachful majesty of a king who faces some -recreant vassal--“Then with all your wisdom you are -ignorant,--ignorant of the commonest laws of simple Sound. Do you not -yet know--have you not yet learned that Sound vibrates in a million -million tones through every nook and corner of the Universe? Not a -whisper, not a cry from human lips is lost--not even the trill of a -bird or the rustle of a leaf. All is heard--all is kept,--all is -reproduced at will for ever and ever. What is the use of your modern -toys, the phonograph and the telephone, if they do not teach you the -fundamental and eternal law by which these adjuncts to civilisation -are governed? God--the great, patient, loving God--hears the huge -sounding-board of space re-echo again and yet again with rough curses -on His Name,--with groans and wailings; shouts, tears, and laughter -send shuddering discord through His Everlasting Vastness, but amid it -all there is a steady strain of music,--full, sweet, and pure--the -music of perpetual prayer. No science in prayer! Such science there -is, that by its power the very ether parts asunder as by a lightning -stroke--the highest golden gateways are unbarred,--and the -connecting-link ’twixt God and Man stretches itself through Space, -between and round all worlds, defying any force to break the current -of its messages.” - -He spoke with fervour and passion,--El-Râmi listened silent and -unconvinced. - -“I waste my words, I know--” continued the monk--“For you, Yourself -suffices. What your brain dares devise,--what your hand dares attempt, -that you will do, unadvisedly, sure of your success without the help -of God or man. Nevertheless--you may not keep the Soul of Lilith.” - -His voice was very solemn yet sweet; El-Râmi, lifting his head, -looked full at him, wonderingly, earnestly, and as one in doubt. Then -his mind seemed to grasp more completely his visitor’s splendid -presence,--the noble face, the soft commanding eyes,--and -instinctively he bent his proud head with a sudden reverence. - -“Truly you are a god-like man--” he said slowly--“God-like in -strength, and pure-hearted as a child. I would trust you in many -things, if not in all. Therefore,--as by some strange means you have -possessed yourself of my secret,--come with me,--and I will show you -the chiefest marvel of my science--the life I claim--the spirit I -dominate. Your warning I cannot accept, because you warn me of what is -impossible. Impossible--I say, impossible!--for the human Lilith, -God’s Lilith, _died_--according to God’s will; _my_ Lilith lives, -according to My will. Come and see,--then perhaps you will understand -how it is that I--I, and not God any longer,--claim and possess the -Soul I saved!” - -With these words, uttered in a thrilling tone of pride and passion, he -opened the study door and, with a mute inviting gesture, led the way -out. In silence and with a pensive step, the monk slowly followed. - - - - - XX. - -Into the beautiful room, glowing with its regal hues of gold and -purple, where the spell-bound Lilith lay, El-Râmi led his thoughtful -and seemingly reluctant guest. Zaroba met them on the threshold and -was about to speak,--but at an imperative sign from her master she -refrained, and contented herself merely with a searching and -inquisitive glance at the stately monk, the like of whom she had never -seen before. She had good cause to be surprised,--for, in all the time -she had known him, El-Râmi had never permitted any visitor to enter -the shrine of Lilith’s rest. Now he had made a new departure,--and in -the eagerness of her desire to know why this stranger was thus freely -admitted into the usually forbidden precincts she went her way -downstairs to seek Féraz, and learn from him the explanation of what -seemed so mysterious. But it was now past ten o’clock at night, and -Féraz was asleep,--fast locked in such a slumber that, though Zaroba -shook him and called him several times, she could not rouse him from -his deep and almost death-like torpor. Baffled in her attempt, she -gave it up at last, and descended to the kitchen to prepare her own -frugal supper,--resolving, however, that as soon as she heard Féraz -stirring she would put him through such a catechism that she would -find out, in spite of El-Râmi’s haughty reticence, the name of the -unknown visitor and the nature of his errand. - -Meanwhile, El-Râmi himself and his grave companion stood by the couch -of Lilith, and looked upon her in all her peaceful beauty for some -minutes in silence. Presently El-Râmi grew impatient at the absolute -impassiveness of the monk’s attitude and the strange look in his -eyes--a look which expressed nothing but solemn compassion and -reverence. - -“Well!” he exclaimed almost brusquely--“Now you see Lilith, as she -is.” - -“Not so!” said the monk quietly--“I do not see her as she is. But I -_have_ seen her,--whereas, ... you have not!” - -El-Râmi turned upon him somewhat angrily. - -“Why will you always speak in riddles?” he said--“In plain language, -what do you mean?” - -“In plain language I mean what I say”--returned the monk -composedly--“And I tell you I have seen Lilith. The Soul of Lilith -_is_ Lilith;--not this brittle casket made of earthly materials which -we now look upon, and which is preserved from decomposition by an -electric fluid. But--beautiful as it is--it is a corpse--and nothing -more.” - -El-Râmi regarded him with an expression of haughty amazement. - -“Can a corpse breathe?” he inquired--“Can a corpse have colour and -movement? This Body was the body of a child when first I began my -experiment,--now it is a woman’s form full grown and perfect--and you -tell me it is a corpse!” - -“I tell you no more than you told Féraz,” said the monk coldly--“When -the boy transgressed your command and yielded to the suggestion of -your servant Zaroba, did you not assure him that Lilith was _dead_?” - -El-Râmi started;--these words certainly gave him a violent shock of -amazement. - -“God!” he exclaimed--“How can you know all this? Where did you hear -it? Does the very air convey messages to you from a distance?--Does -the light copy scenes for you, or what is it that gives you such a -superhuman faculty for knowing everything you choose to know?” - -The monk smiled gravely. - -“I have only one method of work, El-Râmi”--he said--“And that method -you are perfectly aware of, though you would not adopt it when I would -have led you into its mystery. ‘No man cometh to the Father, but by -Me.’ You know that old well-worn text--read so often, heard so often, -that its true meaning is utterly lost sight of and forgotten. ‘Coming -to the Father’ means the attainment of a superhuman intuition--a -superhuman knowledge,--but, as you do not believe in these things, let -them pass. But you were perfectly right when you told Féraz that this -Lilith is dead;--of course she is dead,--dead as a plant that is dried -but has its colour preserved, and is made to move its leaves by -artificial means. This body’s breath is artificial,--the liquid in its -veins is not blood, but a careful compound of the electric fluid that -generates all life,--and it might be possible to preserve it thus for -ever. Whether its growth would continue is a scientific question; it -might and it might not,--probably it would cease if the Soul held no -more communication with it. For its growth, which you consider so -remarkable, is simply the result of a movement of the brain;--when you -force back the Spirit to converse through its medium, the brain -receives an impetus, which it communicates to the spine and -nerves,--the growth and extension of the muscles is bound to follow. -Nevertheless, it is really a chemically animated corpse; it is not -Lilith. Lilith herself I know.” - -“Lilith herself you know!” echoed El-Râmi, stupefied, “You know ...! -What is it that you would imply?” - -“I know Lilith”--said the monk steadily, “as you have never known her. -I have seen her as you have never seen her. She is a lonely -creature,--a wandering angel, for ever waiting,--for ever hoping. -Unloved, save by the Highest Love, she wends her flight from star to -star, from world to world,--a spirit beautiful, but incomplete as a -flower without its stem,--a bird without its mate. But her destiny is -changing,--she will not be alone for long,--the hours ripen to their -best fulfilment,--and Love, the crown and completion of her being, -will unbind her chains and send her soaring to the Highest Joy in the -glorious liberty of the free!” - -While he spoke thus, softly, yet with eloquence and passion, a dark -flush crept over El-Râmi’s face,--his eyes glittered and his hand -trembled--he seemed to be making some fierce inward resolve. He -controlled himself, however, and asked with a studied indifference-- - -“Is this your prophecy?” - -“It is not a prophecy; it is a truth;” replied the monk gently--“If -you doubt me, why not ask Her? She is here.” - -“Here?” El-Râmi looked about vaguely, first at the speaker, then at -the couch where the so-called “corpse” lay breathing -tranquilly--“Here, did you say? Naturally,--of course she is here.” - -And his glance reverted again to Lilith’s slumbering form. - -“No--not _here_--” said the monk with a gesture towards the -couch--“but--_there_!” - -And he pointed to the centre of the room where the lamp shed a mellow -golden lustre on the pansy-embroidered carpet, and where, from the -tall crystal vase of Venice ware, a fresh branching cluster of pale -roses exhaled their delicious perfume. El-Râmi stared, but could see -nothing,--nothing save the lamp-light and the nodding flowers. - -“There?” he repeated bewildered--“Where?” - -“Alas for you, that you cannot see her!” said the monk -compassionately. “This blindness of your sight proves that for you the -veil has not yet been withdrawn. Lilith is there, I tell you;--she -stands close to those roses,--her white form radiates like -lightning--her hair is like the glory of the sunshine on amber,--her -eyes are bent upon the flowers, which are fully conscious of her -shining presence. For flowers are aware of angels’ visits, when men -see nothing! Round her and above her are the trailing films of light -caught from the farthest stars,--she is alone as usual,--her looks are -wistful and appealing,--will you not speak to her?” - -El-Râmi’s surprise, vexation, and fear were beyond all words as he -heard this description,--then he became scornful and incredulous. - -“Speak to her!” he repeated--“Nay--if you see her as plainly as you -say--let _her_ speak!” - -“You will not understand her speech--” said the monk--“Not unless it -be conveyed to you in earthly words through that earthly medium -there--” and he pointed to the fair form on the couch--“But, otherwise -you will not know what she is saying. Nevertheless--if you wish -it,--she shall speak.” - -“I wish nothing--” said El-Râmi quickly and haughtily--“If you -imagine you see her,--and if you can command this creature of your -imagination to speak, why, do so; but Lilith, as _I_ know her, speaks -to none save me.” - -The monk lifted his hands with a solemn movement as of prayer-- - -“Soul of Lilith!” he said entreatingly--“Angel-wanderer in the spheres -beloved of God--if, by the Master’s grace, I have seen the vision -clearly--speak!” - -Silence followed. El-Râmi fixed his eyes on Lilith’s visible -recumbent form; no voice could make reply, he thought, save that which -must issue from those lovely lips curved close in placid slumber,--but -the monk’s gaze was fastened in quite an opposite direction. All at -once a strain of music, soft as a song played on the water by -moonlight, rippled through the room. With mellow richness the cadence -rose and fell,--it had a marvellous sweet sound, rhythmical and -suggestive of words,--unimaginable words, fairies’ language,--anything -that was removed from mortal speech, but that was all the same capable -of utterance. El-Râmi listened perplexed;--he had never heard -anything so convincingly, almost painfully sweet,--till suddenly it -ceased as it had begun, abruptly, and the monk looked round at him. - -“You heard her?” he inquired--“Did you understand?” - -“Understand what?” asked El-Râmi impatiently--“I heard music--nothing -more.” - -The monk’s eyes rested upon him in grave compassion. - -“Your spiritual perception does not go far, El-Râmi Zarânos--” he -said gently--“Lilith spoke;--her voice was the music.” - -El-Râmi trembled;--for once his strong nerves were somewhat shaken. -The man beside him was one whom he knew to be absolutely truthful, -unselfishly wise,--one who scorned “trickery” and who had no motive -for deceiving him,--one also who was known to possess a strange and -marvellous familiarity with “things unproved and unseen.” In spite of -his sceptical nature, all he dared assume against his guest was that -he was endowed with a perfervid imagination which persuaded him of the -existence of what were really only the “airy nothings” of his brain. -The irreproachable grandeur, purity, and simplicity of the monk’s life -as known among his brethren were of an ideal perfection never before -attempted or attained by man,--and as he met the steady, piercing -_faithful_ look of his companion’s eyes,--clear fine eyes such as, -reverently speaking, one might have imagined the Christ to have had -when in the guise of humanity He looked love on all the -world,--El-Râmi was fairly at a loss for words. Presently he -recovered himself sufficiently to speak, though his accents were -hoarse and tremulous. - -“I will not doubt you;--” he said slowly--“But if the Soul of Lilith -is here present as you say,--and if it spoke, surely I may know the -purport of its language!” - -“Surely you may!” replied the monk--“Ask her in your own way to repeat -what she said just now. There--” and he smiled gravely as he pointed -to the couch--“there is your human phonograph!” - -Perplexed, but willing to solve the mystery, El-Râmi bent above the -slumbering girl, and, taking her hands in his own, called her by name -in his usual manner. The reply came soon--though somewhat faintly. - -“I am here!” - -“How long have you been here?” asked El-Râmi. - -“Since my friend came.” - -“Who is that friend, Lilith?” - -“One that is near you now--” was the response. - -“Did you speak to this friend a while ago?” - -“Yes!” - -The answer was more like a sigh than an assent. - -“Can you repeat what you said?” - -Lilith stretched her fair arms out with a gesture of weariness. - -“I said I was tired--” she murmured--“Tired of the search through -Infinity for things that are not. A wayward will bids me look for -evil--I search, but cannot find it;--for Hell, a place of pain and -torment,--up and down, around and around the everlasting circles I -wend my way, and can discover no such abode of misery. Then I bring -back the messages of truth,--but they are rejected, and I am -sorrowful. All the realms of God are bright with beauty save this one -dark prison of Man’s fantastic Dream. Why am I bound here? I long to -reach the light!--I am tired of the darkness!” She paused--then -added--“This is what I said to one who is my friend.” - -Vaguely pained, and stricken with a sudden remorse, El-Râmi asked: - -“Am not I your friend, Lilith?” - -A shudder ran through her delicate limbs. Then the answer came -distinctly, yet reluctantly: - -“No!” - -El-Râmi dropped her hands as though he had been stung;--his face was -very pale. The monk touched him on the shoulder. - -“Why are you so moved?” he asked--“A spirit cannot lie;--an angel -cannot flatter. How should she call you friend?--you, who detain her -here solely for your own interested purposes?--To you she is a -‘subject’ merely,--no more than the butterfly dissected by the -naturalist. The butterfly has hopes, ambitions, loves, delights, -innocent wishes, nay, even a religion,--what are all these to the grim -spectacled scientist who breaks its delicate wings? The Soul of -Lilith, like a climbing flower, strains instinctively upward,--but you -(for a certain time only)--according to the natural magnetic laws -which compel the stronger to subdue the weaker, have been able to keep -this, her ethereal essence, a partial captive under your tyrannical -dominance. Yes--I say ‘tyrannical,’--great wisdom should inspire -love,--but in you it only inspires despotism. Yet with all your skill -and calculation you have strangely overlooked one inevitable result of -your great experiment.” - -El-Râmi looked up inquiringly, but said nothing. - -“How it is that you have not foreseen this thing I cannot -imagine”--continued the monk--“The body of Lilith has grown under your -very eyes from the child to the woman by the merest material -means,--the chemicals which Nature gives us, and the forces which -Nature allows us to employ. How then should you deem it possible for -the Soul to remain stationary? With every fresh experience its form -expands--its desires increase,--its knowledge widens,--and the -everlasting necessity of Love compels its life to Love’s primeval -source. The Soul of Lilith is awakening to its fullest immortal -consciousness,--she realises her connection with the great angelic -worlds--her kindredship with those worlds’ inhabitants, and, as she -gains this glorious knowledge more certainly, so she gains strength. -And this is the result I warn you of--her force will soon baffle -yours, and you will have no more influence over her than you have over -the highest Archangel in the realms of the Supreme Creator.” - -“A woman’s Soul!--only a woman’s soul, remember that!” said El-Râmi -dreamily--“How should it baffle mine? Of slighter character--of more -sensitive balance--and always prone to yield,--how should it prove so -strong? Though, of course, you will tell me that Souls, like Angels, -are sexless.” - -“I will tell you nothing of the sort”--said the monk quietly. “Because -it would not be true. All created things have sex, even the angels. -‘Male and Female created He them’--recollect that,--when it is said -God made Man in ‘His Own Image.’” - -El-Râmi’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. - -“What! Is it possible you would endow God Himself with the Feminine -attributes as well as the Masculine?” - -“There are two governing forces of the Universe,” replied the monk -deliberately--“One, the masculine, is Love,--the other, feminine, is -Beauty. These Two, reigning together, are GOD;--just as man and wife -are One. From Love and Beauty proceed Law and Order. You cannot away -with it--it is so. Love and Beauty produce and reproduce a million -forms with more than a million variations--and when God made Man in -His Own Image it was as Male and Female. From the very first growths -of life in all worlds,--from the small, almost imperceptible beginning -of that marvellous evolution which resulted in Humanity,--evolution -which to us is calculated to have taken thousands of years, whereas in -the eternal countings it has occupied but a few moments, Sex was -proclaimed in the lowliest sea-plants, of which the only remains we -have are in the Silurian formations,--and was equally maintained in -the humblest _lingula_ inhabiting its simple bivalve shell. Sex is -proclaimed throughout the Universe with an absolute and unswerving -regularity through all grades of nature. Nay, there are even male and -female Atmospheres which when combined produce forms of life.” - -“You go far,--I should say much too far in your supposed law!” said -El-Râmi wonderingly and a little derisively. - -“And you, my good friend, stop short,--and oppose yourself against all -law, when it threatens to interfere with your work”--retorted the -monk--“The proof is, that you are convinced you can keep the Soul of -Lilith to wait upon your will at pleasure like another Ariel. Whereas -the law is, that at the destined moment she shall be free. Wise -Shakespeare can teach you this,--Prospero had to give his ‘fine -spirit’ liberty in the end. If you could shut Lilith up in her mortal -frame again, to live a mortal life, the case might be different; but -that you cannot do, since the mortal frame is too dead to be capable -of retaining such a Fire-Essence as hers is now.” - -“You think that?” queried El-Râmi,--he spoke mechanically,--his -thoughts were travelling elsewhere in a sudden new direction of their -own. - -The monk regarded him with friendly but always compassionate eyes. - -“I not only think it--I know it!” he replied. - -El-Râmi met his gaze fixedly. - -“You would seem to know most things,”--he observed--“Now in this -matter I consider that I am more humble-minded than yourself. For I -cannot say I ‘know’ anything,--the whole solar system appears to me to -be in a gradually changing condition,--and each day one set of facts -is followed by another entirely new set which replace the first and -render them useless----” - -“There is nothing useless,” interposed the monk--“not even a so-called -‘fact’ disproved. Error leads to the discovery of Truth. And Truth -always discloses the one great unalterable fact,--GOD.” - -“As I told you, I must have proofs of God”--said El-Râmi with a chill -smile--“Proofs that satisfy _me_, personally speaking. At present I -believe in Force only.” - -“And how is Force generated?” inquired the monk. - -“That we shall discover in time. And not only the How, but also the -Why. In the meantime we must prove and test all possibilities, both -material and spiritual. And as far as such proving goes I think you -can scarcely deny that this experiment of mine on the girl Lilith is a -wonderful one?” - -“I cannot grant you that;”--returned the monk gravely--“Most Eastern -magnetists can do what you have done, provided they have the necessary -Will. To detach the Soul from the body, and yet keep the body alive, -is an operation that has been performed by others and will be -performed again,--but to keep Body and Soul struggling against each -other in unnatural conflict requires cruelty as well as Will. It is, -as I before observed, the vivisection of a butterfly. The scientist -does not think himself barbarous--but his barbarity outweighs his -science all the same.” - -“You mean to say there is nothing surprising in my work?” - -“Why should there be?” said the monk curtly--“Barbarism is not -wonderful! What is truly a matter for marvel is Yourself. You are the -most astonishing example of self-inflicted blindness I have ever -known!” - -El-Râmi breathed quickly,--he was deeply angered, but he had -self-possession enough not to betray it. As he stood, sullenly silent, -his guest’s hand fell gently on his shoulder--his guest’s eyes looked -earnest love and pity into his own. - -“El-Râmi Zarânos,” he said softly--“You know me. You know I would -not lie to you. Hear then my words;--As I see a bird on the point of -flight, or a flower just ready to break into bloom, even so I see the -Soul of Lilith. She is on the verge of the Eternal Light--its rippling -wave,--the great sweet wave that lifts us upward,--has already touched -her delicate consciousness,--her aerial organism. You--with your -brilliant brain, your astonishing grasp and power over material -forces--you are on the verge of darkness,--such a gulf of it as cannot -be measured--such a depth as cannot be sounded. Why will you fall? Why -do you choose Darkness rather than Light?” - -“Because my ‘deeds are evil,’ I suppose,” retorted El-Râmi -bitterly--“You should finish the text while you are about it. I think -you misjudge me,--however, you have not heard all. You consider my -labour as vain, and my experiment futile,--but I have some strange -results yet to show you in writing. And what I have written I desire -to place in your hands that you may take all to the monastery, and -keep my discoveries,--if they _are_ discoveries, among the archives. -What may seem the wildest notions to the scientists of to-day may -prove of practical utility hereafter.” - -He paused, and, bending over Lilith, took her hand and called her by -name. The reply came rather more quickly than usual. - -“I am here!” - -“Be here no longer, Lilith”--said El-Râmi, speaking with unusual -gentleness,--“Go home to that fair garden you love, on the high hills -of the bright world called Alcyone. There rest, and be happy till I -summon you to earth again.” - -He released her hand,--it fell limply in its usual position on her -breast,--and her face became white and rigid as sculptured marble. He -watched her lying so for a minute or two, then turning to the monk, -observed-- - -“She has left us at once, as you see. Surely you will own that I do -not grudge her her liberty?” - -“Her liberty is not complete”--said the monk quietly--“Her happiness -therefore is only temporary.” - -El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders indifferently. - -“What does that matter if, as you declare, her time of captivity is -soon to end? According to your prognostications she will ere long set -herself free.” - -The monk’s fine eyes flashed forth a calm and holy triumph. - -“Most assuredly she will!” - -El-Râmi looked at him and seemed about to make some angry retort, -but, checking himself, he bowed with a kind of mingled submissiveness -and irony, saying-- - -“I will not be so discourteous as to doubt your word! But--I would -only remind you that nothing in this world is certain----” - -“Except the Law of God!” interrupted the monk with passionate -emphasis--“That is immutable,--and against that, El-Râmi Zarânos, -you contend in vain! Opposed to that, your strength and power must -come to naught,--and all they who wonder at your skill and wisdom -shall by and by ask one another the old question--‘_What went ye out -for to see?_’ And the answer shall describe your fate--‘_A reed shaken -by the wind!_’” - -He turned away as he spoke and, without another look at the beautiful -Lilith, he left the room. El-Râmi stood irresolute for a moment, -thinking deeply,--then, touching the bell which would summon Zaroba -back to her usual duty of watching the tranced girl, he swiftly -followed his mysterious guest. - - - - - XXI. - -He found him quietly seated in the study, close beside the window, -which he had thrown open for air. The rain had ceased,--a few stars -shone out in the misty sky, and there was a fresh smell of earth and -grass and flowers, as though all were suddenly growing together by -some new impetus. - -“‘The winter is past,--the rain is over and gone!--Arise, my love, my -fair one, and come away!’” quoted the monk softly, half to himself and -half to El-Râmi as he saw the latter enter the room--“Even in this -great and densely-peopled city of London, Nature sends her messengers -of spring--see here!” - -And he held out on his hand a delicate insect with shining iridescent -wings that glistened like jewels. - -“This creature flew in as I opened the window,” he continued, -surveying it tenderly. “What quaint and charming stories of -Flower-land it could tell us if we could but understand its language! -Of the poppy-palaces, and rose-leaf saloons coloured through by the -kindly sun,--of the loves of the ladybirds and the political -controversies of the bees! How dare we make a boast of wisdom!--this -tiny denizen of air baffles us--it knows more than we do.” - -“With regard to the things of its own sphere it knows more, -doubtless,” said El-Râmi--“but concerning _our_ part of creation it -knows less. These things are equally balanced. You seem to me to be -more of a poet than either a devotee or a scientist.” - -“Perhaps I am!” and the monk smiled, as he carefully wafted the pretty -insect out into the darkness of the night again--“Yet poets are often -the best scientists, because they never _know_ they are scientists. -They arrive by a sudden intuition at the facts which it takes several -Professors Dry-as-Dust years to discover. When once you feel you are a -scientist, it is all over with you. You are a clever biped who has got -hold of a crumb out of the universal loaf, and for all your days -afterwards you are turning that crumb over and over under your -analytical lens. But a poet takes up the whole loaf unconsciously, and -hands portions of it about at haphazard and with the abstracted -behaviour of one in a dream,--a wild and extravagant process,--but -then, what would you?--his nature could not do with a crumb. No--I -dare not call myself ‘poet’; if I gave myself any title at all, I -would say, with all humbleness, that I am a sympathiser.” - -“You do not sympathise with _me_,” observed El-Râmi gloomily. - -“My friend, at the immediate moment, you do not need my sympathy. You -are sufficient for yourself. But, should you ever make a claim upon -me, be sure I shall not fail.” - -He spoke earnestly and cheerily, and smiled,--but El-Râmi did not -return the smile. He was bending over a deep drawer in his -writing-table, and after a little search he took out two bulky rolls -of manuscript tied and sealed. - -“Look there!” he said, indicating the titles with an air of triumph. - -The monk obeyed and read aloud: - -“‘The Inhabitants of Sirius. Their Laws, Customs and Progress.’ Well?” - -“Well!” echoed El-Râmi.--“Is such information, gained from Lilith in -her wanderings, of _no_ value?” - -The monk made no direct reply, but read the title of the second MS. - -“‘The World of Neptune. How it is composed of One Thousand Distinct -Nations, united under one reigning Emperor, known at the present era -as Ustalvian the Tenth.’ And again I say--well? What of all this, -except to hazard the remark that Ustalvian is a great creature, and -supports his responsibilities admirably?” - -El-Râmi gave a gesture of irritation and impatience. - -“Surely it must interest you?” he said.--“Surely you cannot have known -these things positively----” - -“Stop, stop, my friend!” interposed the monk--“Do _you_ know them -_positively_? Do you accept any of Lilith’s news as _positive_? -Come,--you are honest--confess you do not! You cannot believe her, -though you are puzzled to make out as to where she obtains information -which has certainly nothing to do with this world, or any external -impression. And that is why she is really a sphinx to you still, in -spite of your power over her. As for being interested, of course I am -interested. It is impossible not to be interested in everything, even -in the development of a grub. But you have not made any discovery that -is specially new--to _me_. I have my own messenger!” He raised his -eyes one moment with a brief devout glance--then resumed -quietly--“There are other ‘detached’ spirits, besides that of your -Lilith, who have found their way to some of the planets, and have -returned to tell the tale. In one of our monasteries we have a very -exact description of Mars obtained in this same way--its landscapes, -its cities, its people, its various nations--all very concisely given. -These are but the beginnings of discoveries--the feeling for the -clue,--the clue itself will be found one day.” - -“The clue to what?” demanded El-Râmi. “To the stellar mysteries, or -to Life’s mystery?” - -“To everything!” replied the monk firmly. “To everything that seems -unclear and perplexing now. It will all be unravelled for us in such a -simple way that we shall wonder why we did not discover it before. As -I told you, my friend, I am, above all things, a _sympathiser_. I -sympathise--God knows how deeply and passionately,--with what I may -call the unexplained woe of the world. The other day I visited a poor -fellow who had lost his only child. He told me he could believe in -nothing,--he said that what people call the goodness of God was only -cruelty. ‘Why take this boy?’ he cried, rocking the pretty little -corpse to and fro on his breast--‘Why rob me of the chief thing I had -to live for? Oh, if I only _knew_--as positively as I know day is day, -and night is night--that I should see my living child again, and -possess his love in another world than this, should I repine as I do? -No,--I should believe in God’s wisdom,--and I should try to be a good -man instead of a bad. But it is because I do not know, that I am -broken-hearted. If there is a God, surely He might have given us some -little _certain_ clue by way of help and comfort!’ Thus he -wailed,--and my heart ached for him. Nevertheless, the clue is to be -had,--and I believe it will be found suddenly in some little, -deeply-hidden unguessed law,--we are on the track of it, and I fancy -we shall soon find it.” - -“Ah!--and what of the millions of creatures who, in the bygone eras, -having no clue, have passed away without any sort of comfort?” asked -El-Râmi. - -“Nature takes time to manifest her laws,” replied the monk.--“And it -must be remembered that what _we_ call ‘time’ is not Nature’s counting -at all. The method Nature has of counting time may be faintly guessed -by proven scientific fact,--as, for instance, take the comet which -appeared in 1744. Strict mathematicians calculated that this brilliant -world (for it is a world) needs 122,683 years to perform one single -circuit! And yet the circuit of a comet is surely not so much time to -allow for God and Nature to declare a meaning!” - -El-Râmi shuddered slightly. - -“All the same, it is horrible to think of,” he said.--“All those -enormous periods,--those eternal vastnesses! For, during the 122,683 -years we die, and pass into the silence.” - -“Into the silence or the explanation?” queried the monk softly.--“For -there _is_ an Explanation,--and we are all bound to know it at some -time or other, else Creation would be but a poor and bungling -business.” - -“If _we_ are bound to know,” said El-Râmi, “then every living -creature is bound to know, since every living creature suffers -cruelly, in wretched ignorance of the cause of its suffering. To every -atom, no matter how infinitely minute, must be given this -‘explanation,’--to dogs and birds as well as men--nay, even to flowers -must be declared the meaning of the mystery.” - -“Unless the flowers know already!” suggested the monk with a -smile.--“Which is quite possible!” - -“Oh, everything is ‘possible’ according to your way of thinking,” said -El-Râmi somewhat impatiently. “If one is a visionary, one would -scarcely be surprised to see the legended ‘Jacob’s ladder’ leaning -against that dark midnight sky and the angels descending and ascending -upon it. And so--” here he touched the two rolls of manuscript lying -on the table, “you find no use in these?” - -“I personally have no use for them,” responded his guest, “but, as you -desire it, I will take charge of them and place them in safe keeping -at the monastery. Every little link helps to forge the chain of -discovery, of course. By the way, while on this subject, I must not -forget to speak to you about poor old Kremlin. I had a letter from him -about two months ago. I very much fear that famous disc of his will be -his ruin.” - -“Such an intimation will console him vastly!” observed El-Râmi -sarcastically. - -“Consolation has nothing to do with the matter. If a man rushes -wilfully into danger, danger will not move itself out of the way for -him. I always told Kremlin that his proposed design was an unsafe one, -even before he went out to Africa fifteen years ago in search of the -magnetic spar--a crystalline formation whose extraordinary -reflection-power he learned from me. However, it must be admitted that -he has come marvellously close to the unravelling of the enigma at -which he works. And when you see him next you may tell him from me -that if he can--mind, it is a very big ‘if’--if he can follow the -movements of the Third Ray on his disc he will be following the -signals from Mars. To make out the meaning of those signals is quite -another matter--but he can safely classify them as the -light-vibrations from that particular planet.” - -“How is he to tell which is the Third Ray that falls, among a fleeting -thousand?” asked El-Râmi dubiously. - -“It will be difficult of course, but he can try,” returned the -monk.--“Let him first cover the disc with thick, dark drapery, and -then, when it is face to face with the stars in the zenith, uncover it -quickly, keeping his eyes fixed on its surface. In one minute there -will be three distinct flashes--the third is from Mars. Let him -endeavour to follow that third ray in its course on the disc, and -probably he will arrive at something worth remark. This suggestion I -offer by way of assisting him, for his patient labour is both -wonderful and pathetic,--but,--it would be far better and wiser were -he to resign his task altogether. Yet--who knows!--the ordained end -may be the best!” - -“And do you know this ‘ordained end’?” questioned El-Râmi. - -The monk met his incredulous gaze calmly. - -“I know it as I know yours,” he replied. “As I know my own, and the -end (or beginning) of all those who are, or who have been, in any way -connected with my life and labours.” - -“How _can_ you know!” exclaimed El-Râmi brusquely.--“Who is there to -tell you these things that are surely hidden in the future?” - -“Even as a picture already hangs in an artist’s brain before it is -painted,” said the monk,--“so does every scene of each human unit’s -life hang, embryo-like, in air and space, in light and colour. -Explanations of these things are well-nigh impossible--it is not given -to mortal speech to tell them. One must _see_,--and to see clearly, -one must not become wilfully blind.” He paused,--then added--“For -instance, El-Râmi, I would that you could see this room as I see it.” - -El-Râmi looked about half carelessly, half wonderingly. - -“And do I not?” he asked. - -The monk stretched out his hand. - -“Tell me first,--is there anything visible between this my extended -arm and you?” - -El-Râmi shook his head. - -“Nothing.” - -Whereupon the monk raised his eyes, and in a low thrilling voice said -solemnly-- - -“O God with whom Thought is Creation and Creation Thought, for one -brief moment be pleased to lift material darkness from the sight of -this man Thy subject-creature, and by Thy sovereign-power permit him -to behold with mortal eyes, in mortal life, Thy deathless Messenger!” - -Scarcely had these words been pronounced than El-Râmi was conscious -of a blinding flash of fire as though sudden lightning had struck the -room from end to end. Confused and dazzled, he instinctively covered -his eyes with his hand, then removing it, looked up, stupefied, -speechless, and utterly overwhelmed at what he saw. Clear before him -stood a wondrous Shape, seemingly human, yet unlike humanity,--a -creature apparently composed of radiant colour, from whose -transcendent form great shafts of gold and rose and purple spread -upward and around in glowing lines of glory. This marvellous Being -stood, or rather was poised in a steadfast attitude, between him, -El-Râmi, and the monk,--its luminous hands were stretched out on -either side as though to keep those twain asunder--its starry eyes -expressed an earnest watchfulness--its majestic patience never seemed -to tire. A thing of royal stateliness and power, it stayed there -immovable, parting with its radiant intangible Presence the two men -who gazed upon it, one with fearless, reverent, yet accustomed -eyes--the other with a dazzled and bewildered stare. Another moment -and El-Râmi at all risks would have spoken,--but that the Shining -Figure lifted its light-crowned head and gazed at him. The wondrous -look appalled him,--unnerved him,--the straight, pure brilliancy and -limpid lustre of those unearthly orbs sent shudders through him,--he -gasped for breath--thrust out his hands, and fell on his knees in a -blind, unconscious, swooning act of adoration, mingled with a sense of -awe and something like despair,--when a dense chill darkness as of -death closed over him, and he remembered nothing more. - - - - - XXII. - -When he came to himself, it was full daylight. His head was resting -on some one’s knee,--some one was sprinkling cold water on his face -and talking to him in an incoherent mingling of Arabic and -English,--who was that some one? Féraz? Yes!--surely it was Féraz! -Opening his eyes languidly, he stared about him and attempted to rise. - -“What is the matter?” he asked faintly. “What are you doing to me? I -am quite well, am I not?” - -“Yes, yes!” cried Féraz eagerly, delighted to hear him speak.--“You -are well,--it was a swoon that seized you--nothing more! But I was -anxious,--I found you here insensible----” - -With an effort El-Râmi rose to his feet, steadying himself on his -brother’s arm. - -“Insensible!” he repeated vaguely.--“Insensible!--that is strange!--I -must have been very weak and tired--and overpowered. But,--where is -He?” - -“If you mean the Master,” said Féraz, lowering his voice to an almost -awe-stricken whisper--“He has gone, and left no trace,--save that -sealed paper there upon your table.” - -El-Râmi shook himself free of his brother’s hold and hurried forward -to possess himself of the indicated missive,--seizing it, he tore it -quickly open,--it contained but one line--“_Beware the end! With -Lilith’s love comes Lilith’s freedom._” - -That was all. He read it again and again--then deliberately striking a -match, he set fire to it and burnt it to ashes. A rapid glance round -showed him that the manuscripts concerning Neptune and Sirius were -gone,--the mysterious monk had evidently taken them with him as -desired. Then he turned again to his brother. - -“When could he have gone?” he demanded.--“Did you not hear the -street-door open and shut?--no sound at all of his departure?” - -Féraz shook his head. - -“I slept heavily,” he said apologetically. “But in my dreams it seemed -as though a hand touched me, and I awoke. The sun was shining -brilliantly--some one called ‘Féraz! Féraz!’--I thought it was your -voice, and I hurried into the room to find you, as I thought, -dead,--oh! the horror of that moment of suspense!” - -El-Râmi looked at him kindly, and smiled. - -“Why feel horror, my dear boy?” he inquired.--“Death--or what we call -death,--is the best possible fortune for everybody. Even if there were -no afterwards, it would still be an end--an end of trouble and tedium -and infinite uncertainty. Could anything be happier?--I doubt it!” - -And, sighing, he threw himself into his chair with an air of -exhaustion. Féraz stood a little apart, gazing at him somewhat -wistfully--then he spoke-- - -“I too have thought that, El-Râmi,” he said softly.--“As to whether -this end, which the world and all men dread, might not be the best -thing? And yet my own personal sensations tell me that life means -something good for me if I only learn how best to live it.” - -“Youth, my dear fellow!” said El-Râmi lightly. “Delicious -youth,--which you share in common with the scampering colt who -imagines all the meadows of the world were made for him to race upon. -This is the potent charm which persuades you that life is agreeable. -But unfortunately it will pass,--this rosy morning-glory. And the -older you grow the wiser and the sadder you will be,--I, your brother, -am an excellent example of the truth of this platitude.” - -“You are not old,” replied Féraz quickly. “But certainly you are -often sad. You overwork your brain. For example, last night of course -you did not sleep--will you sleep now?” - -“No--I will breakfast,” said El-Râmi, rousing himself to seem -cheerful.--“A good cup of coffee is one of the boons of existence--and -no one can make it as you do. It will put the finishing touch to my -complete recovery.” - -Féraz took this hint, and hastened off to prepare the desired -beverage,--while El-Râmi, left alone, sat for a few moments wrapped -in a deep reverie. His thoughts reverted to and dwelt upon the strange -and glorious Figure he had seen standing in that very room between him -and the monk,--he wondered doubtfully if such a celestial visitant -were anywhere near him now? Shaking off the fantastic impression, he -got up and walked to and fro. - -“What a fool I am!” he exclaimed half aloud--“As if _my_ eyes could -not be as much deluded for once in a way as the eyes of any one else! -It was a strange shape,--a marvellously divine-looking -apparition;--but _he_ evolved it--he is as great a master in the art -of creating phantasma as Moses himself, and could, if he chose, make -thunder echo at his will on another Mount Sinai. Upon my word, the -things that men _can_ do are as wonderful as the things that they -would fain attempt; and the only miraculous part of this particular -man’s force is that he should have overpowered Me, seeing I am so -strong. And then one other marvel--(if it be true),--he could _see_ -the Soul of Lilith.” - -Here he came to a full stop in his walk, and with his eyes fixed on -vacancy he repeated musingly-- - -“He could _see_ the Soul of Lilith. If that is so--if that is -possible, then I will see it too, if I die in the attempt. To _see_ -the Soul--to look upon it and know its form--to discern the manner of -its organisation, would surely be to prove it. Sight can be deceived, -we know--we look upon a star (or think we look upon it), that may have -disappeared some thirty thousand years ago, as it takes thirty -thousand years for its reflex to reach us--all that is true--but there -are ways of guarding against deception.” - -He had now struck upon a new line of thought,--ideas more daring than -he had ever yet conceived began to flit through his brain,--and when -Féraz came in with the breakfast he partook of that meal with avidity -and relish, his excellent appetite entirely reassuring his brother -with regard to his health. - -“You are right, Féraz,” he said, as he sipped his coffee.--“Life can -be made enjoyable after a fashion, no doubt. But the best way to get -enjoyment out of it is to be always at work--always putting a brick in -to help the universal architecture.” - -Féraz was silent. El-Râmi looked at him inquisitively. - -“Don’t you agree with me?” he asked. - -“No--not entirely”--and Féraz pushed the clustering hair off his brow -with a slightly troubled gesture.--“Work may become as monotonous and -wearisome as anything else if we have too much of it. If we are always -working--that is, if we are always obtruding ourselves into affairs -and thinking they cannot get on without us, we make an obstruction in -the way, I think--we are not a help. Besides, we leave ourselves no -time to absorb suggestions, and I fancy a great deal is learned by -simply keeping the brain quiet and absorbing light.” - -“‘Absorbing light’?” queried his brother perplexedly--“What do you -mean?” - -“Well, it is difficult to explain my meaning,” said Féraz with -hesitation--“but yet I feel there is truth in what I try to express. -You see, everything absorbs something, and you will assuredly admit -that the brain absorbs certain impressions?” - -“Of course,--but impressions are not ‘light’?” - -“Are they not? Not even the effects of light? Then what is the art of -photography? However, I do not speak of the impressions received from -our merely external surroundings. If you can relieve the brain from -_conscious_ thought,--if you have the power to shake off outward -suggestions and be willing to think of nothing personal, your brain -will receive impressions which are to some extent new, and with which -you actually have very little connection. It is strange,--but it is -so;--you become obediently receptive, and perhaps wonder where your -ideas come from. I say they are the result of light. Light can use up -immense periods of time in travelling from a far distant star into our -area of vision, and yet at last we see it,--shall not God’s -inspiration travel at a far swifter pace than star-beams, and reach -the human brain as surely? This thought has often startled me,--it has -filled me with an almost apprehensive awe,--the capabilities it opens -up are so immense and wonderful. Even a man can suggest ideas to his -fellow-man and cause them to germinate in the mind and blossom into -action,--how can we deny to God the power to do the same? And -so,--imagine it!--the first strain of the glorious _Tannhäuser_ may -have been played on the harps of Heaven, and rolling sweetly through -infinite space may have touched in fine far echoes the brain of the -musician who afterwards gave it form and utterance--ah yes!--I would -love to think it were so!--I would love to think that -nothing,--nothing is truly ours; but that all the marvels of poetry, -of song, of art, of colour, of beauty, were only the echoes and -distant impressions of that eternal grandeur which comes hereafter!” - -His eyes flashed with all a poet’s enthusiasm,--he rose from the table -and paced the room excitedly, while his brother, sitting silent, -watched him meditatively. - -“El-Râmi, you have no idea,” he continued--“of the wonders and -delights of the land I call my Star! You think it is a dream--an -unexplained portion of a splendid trance,--and I am now fully aware of -what I owe to your magnetic influence,--your forceful spell that rests -upon my life;--but see you!--when I am alone--quite, quite alone, when -you are absent from me, when you are not influencing me, it is then I -see the landscapes best,--it is then I hear my people sing! I let my -brain rest;--as far as it is possible, I think of nothing,--then -suddenly upon me falls the ravishment and ecstasy,--this world rolls -up as it were in a whirling cloud and vanishes, and lo! I find myself -at home. There is a stretch of forest-land in this Star of mine,--a -place all dusky green with shadows, and musical with the fall of -silvery waters,--that is my favourite haunt when I am there, for it -leads me on and on through grasses and tangles of wild flowers to what -I know and feel must be my own abode, where I should rest and sleep if -sleep were needful; but this abode I never reach; I am debarred from -entering in, and I do not know the reason why. The other day, when -wandering there, I met two maidens bearing flowers,--they stopped, -regarding me with pleased yet doubting eyes, and one said--‘Look you, -our lord is now returned!’ And the other sighed and answered--‘Nay! he -is still an exile and may not stay with us.’ Whereupon they bent their -heads, and, shrinking past me, disappeared. When I would have called -them back I woke!--to find that this dull earth was once again my -house of bondage.” - -El-Râmi heard him with patient interest. - -“I do not deny, Féraz,” he said slowly, “that your impressions are -very strange----” - -“Very strange? Yes!” cried Féraz. “But very true!” - -He paused--then on a sudden impulse came close up to his brother, and -laid a hand on his shoulder. - -“And do you mean to tell me,” he asked, “that you who have studied so -much, and have mastered so much, yet receive _no_ such impressions as -those I speak of?” - -A faint flush coloured El-Râmi’s olive skin. - -“Certain impressions come to me at times, of course,” he answered -slowly.--“And there have been certain seasons in my life when I have -had visions of the impossible. But I have a coldly-tempered -organisation, Féraz,--I am able to reason these things away.” - -“Oh, you can reason the whole world away if you choose,” said -Féraz.--“For it is nothing after all but a pinch of star-dust.” - -“If you can reason a thing away it does not exist,” observed El-Râmi -drily.--“Reduce the world, as you say, to a pinch of star-dust, still -the pinch of star-dust is _there_--it Exists.” - -“Some people doubt even that!” said Féraz, smiling. - -“Well, everything can be over-done,” replied his brother,--“even the -process of reasoning. We can, if we choose, ‘reason’ ourselves into -madness. There is a boundary-line to every science which the human -intellect dare not overstep.” - -“I wonder what and where is _your_ boundary-line?” questioned Féraz -lightly.--“Have you laid one down for yourself at all? Surely -not!--for you are too ambitious.” - -El-Râmi made no answer to this observation, but betook himself to his -books and papers. Féraz meanwhile set the room in order and cleared -away the breakfast,--and, these duties done, he quietly withdrew. Left -to himself, El-Râmi took from the centre drawer of his writing-table -a medium-sized manuscript book which was locked, and which he opened -by means of a small key that was attached to his watch-chain, and -bending over the title-page he critically examined it. Its heading ran -thus-- - - The New Religion - _A Reasonable Theory of Worship conformable to the Eternal and - Unalterable Laws of Nature._ - -“The title does not cover all the ground,” he murmured as he -read.--“And yet how am I to designate it? It is a vast subject, and -presents different branches of treatment, and, after all said and -done, I may have wasted my time in planning it. Most likely I -have,--but there is no scientist living who would refuse to accept it. -The question is, shall I ever finish it?--shall I ever know positively -that there IS, without doubt, a conscious, personal Something or Some -one after death who enters at once upon another existence? My new -experiment will decide all--if I _see_ the Soul of Lilith, all -hesitation will be at an end--I shall be sure of everything which now -seems uncertain. And then the triumph!--then the victory!” - -His eyes sparkled, and, dipping his pen in the ink, he prepared to -write, but ere he did so the message which the monk had left for him -to read recurred with a chill warning to his memory,-- - -“Beware the end! With Lilith’s love comes Lilith’s freedom.” - -He considered the words for a moment apprehensively,--and then a proud -smile played round his mouth. - -“For a Master who has attained to some degree of wisdom, his intuition -is strangely erroneous this time,” he muttered. “For if there be any -dream of love in Lilith, that dream, that love is mine! And being -mine, who shall dispute possession,--who shall take her from me? No -one,--not even God,--for He does not break through the laws of Nature. -And by those laws I have kept Lilith--and even so I will keep her -still.” - -Satisfied with his own conclusions, he began to write, taking up the -thread of his theory of religion where he had left it on the previous -day. He had a brilliant and convincing style, and was soon deep in an -elaborate and eloquent disquisition on the superior scientific -reasoning contained in the ancient Eastern faiths, as compared with -the modern scheme of Christianity, which limits God’s power to this -world only, and takes no consideration of the fate of other visible -and far more splendid spheres. - - - - - XXIII. - -The few days immediately following the visit of the mysterious monk -from Cyprus were quiet and uneventful enough. El-Râmi led the life of -a student and recluse; Féraz, too, occupied himself with books and -music, thinking much, but saying little. He had solemnly sworn never -again to make allusion to the forbidden subject of his brother’s great -experiment, and he meant to keep his vow. For, though he had in very -truth absolutely forgotten the name “Lilith,” he had not forgotten the -face of her whose beauty had surprised his senses and dazzled his -brain. She had become to him a nameless Wonder,--and from the sweet -remembrance of her loveliness he gained a certain consolation and -pleasure which he jealously and religiously kept to himself. He -thought of her as a poet may think of an ideal goddess seen in a -mystic dream,--but he never ventured to ask a question concerning her. -And even if he had wished to do so,--even if he had indulged the idea -of encouraging Zaroba to follow up the work she had begun by telling -him all she could concerning the beautiful tranced girl, that course -was now impossible. For Zaroba seemed stricken dumb as well as -deaf,--what had chanced to her he could not tell,--but a mysterious -silence possessed her; and, though her large black eyes were -sorrowfully eloquent, she never uttered a word. She came and went on -various household errands, always silently and with bent head,--she -looked older, feebler, wearier and sadder, but not so much as a -gesture escaped her that could be construed into a complaint. Once -Féraz made signs to her of inquiry after her health and -well-being--she smiled mournfully, but gave no other response, and, -turning away, left him hurriedly. He mused long and deeply upon all -this,--and, though he felt sure that Zaroba’s strange but resolute -speechlessness was his brother’s work, he dared not speculate too far -or inquire too deeply. For he fully recognised El-Râmi’s power,--a -power so scientifically balanced, and used with such terrible and -unerring precision, that there could be no opposition possible unless -one were of equal strength and knowledge. Féraz knew he could no more -compete with such a force than a mouse can wield a thunderbolt,--he -therefore deemed it best to resign himself to his destiny and wait the -course of events. - -“For,” he said within himself, “it is not likely one man should be -permitted to use such strange authority over natural forces long,--it -may be that God is trying him,--putting him to the proof, as it were, -to find out how far he will dare to go,--and then--ah then!--_what_ -then? If his heart were dedicated to the service of God I should not -fear,--but--as it is, I dread the end!” - -His instinct was correct in this,--for in spite of his poetic and -fanciful temperament he had plenty of quick perception and he saw -plainly what El-Râmi himself was not very willing to -recognise,--namely, that in all the labour of his life, so far as it -had gone, he, El-Râmi, had rather opposed himself to the unseen -divine, than striven to incorporate himself with it. He preferred to -believe in natural Force only; his inclination was to deny the -possibility of anything behind that. He accepted the idea of -Immortality to a certain extent, because natural Force was for ever -giving him proofs of the perpetual regeneration of life--but that -there was a primal source of this generating influence,--One, great -and eternal, who would demand an account of all lives, and an accurate -summing-up of all words and actions,--in this, though he might assume -the virtue of faith, Féraz very well knew he had it not. Like the -greater majority of scientists and natural philosophers generally, -what Self could comprehend, he accepted,--but all that extended beyond -Self,--all that made of Self but a grain of dust in a vast -infinitude,--all that forced the creature to prostrate himself humbly -before the Creator and cry out “Lord, be merciful to me a sinner!” -this he tacitly and proudly rejected. For which reasons the gentle, -dreamy Féraz had good cause to fear,--and a foreboding voice for ever -whispered in his mind that man without God was as a world without -light,--a black chaos of blank unfruitfulness. - -With the ensuing week the grand “reception” to which El-Râmi and his -brother had been invited by Lord Melthorpe came off with great -_éclat_. Lady Melthorpe’s “crushes” were among the most brilliant of -the season, and this one was particularly so, as it was a special -function held for the entertainment of the distinguished Crown Prince -of a great nation. True, the distinguished Crown Prince was only -“timed” to look in a little after midnight for about ten minutes, but -the exceeding brevity of his stay was immaterial to the fashionable -throng. All that was needed was just the piquant flavour,--the -“passing” of a Royal Presence,--to make the gathering socially -complete. The rooms were crowded--so much so indeed that it was -difficult to take note of any one person in particular, yet, in spite -of this fact, there was a very general movement of interest and -admiration when El-Râmi entered with his young and handsome brother -beside him. Both had a look and manner too distinctly striking to -escape observation:--their olive complexions, black melancholy eyes, -and slim yet stately figures, were set off to perfection by the -richness of the Oriental dresses they wore; and the grave composure -and perfect dignity of their bearing offered a pleasing contrast to -the excited pushing, waddling, and scrambling indulged in by the -greater part of the aristocratic assemblage. Lady Melthorpe herself, a -rather pretty woman attired in a very æsthetic gown, and wearing her -brown hair all towzled and arranged _à la Grecque_, in diamond -bandeaux, caught sight of them at once, and was delighted. Such -picturesque-looking creatures were really ornaments to a room, she -thought with much interior satisfaction; and, wreathing her face with -smiles, she glided up to them. - -“I am so charmed, my dear El-Râmi!” she said, holding out her -jewelled hand.--“So charmed to see _you_--you so very seldom will come -to me! _And_ your brother! So glad! Why did you never tell me you had -a brother? Naughty man! What is your brother’s name? Féraz? -Delightful!--it makes one think of Hafiz and Sadi and all those very -charming Eastern people. I must find some one interesting to introduce -to you. Will you wait here a minute--the crowd is so thick in the -centre of the room that really I’m afraid you will not be able to get -through it--_do_ wait here, and I’ll bring the Baroness to you--don’t -you know the Baroness? Oh, she’s such a delightful creature--so clever -at palmistry! Yes--just stay where you are,--I’ll come back directly!” - -And with sundry good-humoured nods her ladyship swept away, while -Féraz glanced at his brother with an expression of amused inquiry. - -“That is Lady Melthorpe?” he asked. - -“That is Lady Melthorpe,” returned El-Râmi--“our hostess, and Lord -Melthorpe’s wife; his, ‘to have and to hold, for better for worse, for -richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honour, and -cherish till death do them part,’” and he smiled somewhat -satirically.--“It seems odd, doesn’t it?--I mean, such solemn words -sound out of place sometimes. Do you like her?” - -Féraz made a slight sign in the negative. - -“She does not speak sincerely,” he said in a low tone. - -El-Râmi laughed. - -“My dear boy, you mustn’t expect any one to be ‘sincere’ in society. -You said you wanted to ‘see life’--very well, but it will never do to -begin by viewing it in that way. An outburst of actual sincerity in -this human _mêlée_”--and he glanced comprehensively over the -brilliant throng--“would be like a match to a gunpowder magazine--the -whole thing would blow up into fragments and be dispersed to the four -winds of heaven, leaving nothing behind but an evil odour.” - -“Better so,” said Féraz dreamily, “than that false hearts should be -mistaken for true.” - -El-Râmi looked at him wistfully;--what a beautiful youth he really -was, with all that glow of thought and feeling in his dark eyes! How -different was his aspect from that of the jaded, cynical, vice-worn -young men of fashion, some of whom were pushing their way past at that -moment,--men in the twenties who had the air of being well on in the -forties, and badly preserved at that--wretched, pallid, languid, -exhausted creatures who had thrown away the splendid jewel of their -youth in a couple of years’ stupid dissipation and folly. At that -moment Lord Melthorpe, smiling and cordial, came up to them and shook -hands warmly, and then introduced with a few pleasant words a -gentleman who had accompanied him as,--“Roy Ainsworth, the famous -artist, you know!” - -“Oh, not at all!” drawled the individual thus described, with a -searching glance at the two brothers from under his drowsy -eyelids.--“Not famous by any means--not yet. Only trying to be. You’ve -got to paint something startling and shocking nowadays before you are -considered ‘famous’;--and even then, when you’ve outraged all the -proprieties, you must give a banquet, or take a big house and hold -receptions, or have an electrically-lit-up skeleton in your studio, or -something of that sort, to keep the public attention fixed upon you. -It’s such a restless age.” - -El-Râmi smiled gravely. - -“The feverish outburst of an unnatural vitality immediately preceding -dissolution,” he observed. - -“Ah!--you think that? Well--it may be,--I’m sure I hope it is. I, -personally, should be charmed to believe in the rapidly-approaching -end of the world. We really need a change of planet as much as certain -invalids require a change of air. Your brother, however”--and here he -flashed a keen glance at Féraz--“seems already to belong to quite a -different sphere.” - -Féraz looked up with a pleased yet startled expression. - -“Yes,--but how did you know it?” he asked. - -It was now the artist’s turn to be embarrassed. He had used the words -“different sphere” merely as a figure of speech, whereas this -intelligent-looking young fellow evidently took the phrase in a -literal sense. It was very odd!--and he hesitated what to answer, so -El-Râmi came to the rescue. - -“Mr. Ainsworth only means that you do not look quite like other -people, Féraz, that’s all. Poets and musicians often carry their own -distinctive mark.” - -“Is he a poet?” inquired Lord Melthorpe with interest.--“And has he -published anything?” - -El-Râmi laughed good-humouredly. - -“Not he! My dear Lord Melthorpe, we are not all called upon to give -the world our blood and brain and nerve and spirit. Some few reserve -their strength for higher latitudes. To give greedy humanity -everything of one’s self is rather too prodigal an expenditure.” - -“I agree with you,” said a chill yet sweet voice close to them.--“It -was Christ’s way of work,--and quite too unwise an example for any of -us to follow.” - -Lord Melthorpe and Mr. Ainsworth turned quickly to make way for the -speaker,--a slight fair woman, with a delicate thoughtful face full of -light, languor, and scorn, who, clad in snowy draperies adorned here -and there with the cold sparkle of diamonds, drew near them at the -moment. El-Râmi and his brother both noted her with interest,--she -was so different from the other women present. - -“I am delighted to see you!” said Lord Melthorpe as he held out his -hand in greeting.--“It is so seldom we have the honour! Mr. Ainsworth -you already know,--let me introduce my Oriental friends -here,--El-Râmi Zarânos and his brother Féraz Zarânos,--Madame -Irene Vassilius--you must have heard of her very often.” - -El-Râmi had indeed heard of her,--she was an authoress of high -repute, noted for her brilliant satirical pen, her contempt of press -criticism, and her influence over, and utter indifference to, all men. -Therefore he regarded her now with a certain pardonable curiosity as -he made her his profoundest salutation, while she returned his look -with equal interest. - -“It is you who said that we must not give ourselves wholly away to the -needs of humanity, is it not?” she said, letting her calm eyes dwell -upon him with a dreamy yet searching scrutiny. - -“I certainly did say so, Madame,” replied El-Râmi.--“It is a waste of -life,--and humanity is always ungrateful.” - -“You have proved it? But perhaps you have not tried to deserve its -gratitude.” - -This was rather a home-thrust, and El-Râmi was surprised and vaguely -annoyed at its truth. Irene Vassilius still stood quietly observing -him,--then she turned to Roy Ainsworth. - -“There is the type you want for your picture,” she said, indicating -Féraz by a slight gesture.--“That boy, depicted in the clutches of -your Phryne, would make angels weep.” - -“If I could make _you_ weep I should have achieved something like -success,” replied the painter, his sleepy eyes dilating with a passion -he could not wholly conceal.--“But icebergs neither smile nor shed -tears,--and intellectual women are impervious to emotion.” - -“That is a mistaken idea,--one of the narrow notions common to men,” -she answered, waving her fan idly to and fro.--“You remind me of the -querulous Edward Fitzgerald, who wrote that he was glad Mrs. Barrett -Browning was dead, because there would be no more _Aurora Leighs_. He -condescended to say she was a ‘woman of Genius,’ but what was the use -of it? ‘She and her Sex,’ he said, ‘would be better minding the -Kitchen and their Children.’ He and _his_ Sex always consider the -terrible possibilities to themselves of a badly-cooked dinner and a -baby’s screams. His notion about the limitation of woman’s sphere is -man’s notion generally.” - -“It is not mine,” said Lord Melthorpe.--“I think women are cleverer -than men.” - -“Ah, you are not a reviewer!” laughed Madame Vassilius--“so you can -afford to be generous. But as a rule men detest clever women, simply -because they are jealous of them.” - -“They have cause to be jealous of _you_,” said Roy Ainsworth.--“You -succeed in everything you touch.” - -“Success is easy,” she replied indifferently,--“Resolve upon it, and -carry out that resolve--and the thing is done.” - -El-Râmi looked at her with new interest. - -“Madame, you have a strong will!” he observed.--“But permit me to say -that all your sex are not like yourself, beautiful, gifted, and -resolute at one and the same time. The majority of women are -deplorably unintelligent and uninteresting.” - -“That is precisely how I find the majority of men!” declared Irene -Vassilius, with that little soft laugh of hers which was so sweet, yet -so full of irony.--“You see, we view things from different -standpoints. Moreover, the deplorably unintelligent and uninteresting -women are the very ones you men elect to marry, and make the mothers -of the nation. It is the way of masculine wisdom,--so full of careful -forethought and admirable calculation!” She laughed again, and -continued--“Lord Melthorpe tells me you are a seer,--an Eastern -prophet arisen in these dull modern days--now will you solve me a -riddle that I am unable to guess,--myself?--and tell me if you can, -who am I and what am I?” - -“Madame,” replied El-Râmi bowing profoundly, “I cannot in one moment -unravel so complex an enigma.” - -She smiled, not ill pleased, and met his dark, fiery, penetrating -glance unreservedly,--then, drawing off her long loose glove, she held -out her small beautifully-shaped white hand. - -“Try me,” she said lightly, “for if there is any truth in -‘brain-waves’ or reflexes of the mind the touch of my fingers ought to -send electric meanings through you. I am generally judged as of a -frivolous disposition because I am small in stature, slight in build, -and have curly hair--all proofs positive, according to the majority, -of latent foolishness. Colossal women, however, are always -astonishingly stupid, and fat women lethargic--but a mountain of good -flesh is always more attractive to man than any amount of intellectual -perception. Oh, I am not posing as one of the ‘misunderstood’; not at -all--I simply wish you to look well at me first and take in my -‘frivolous’ appearance thoroughly, before being misled by the messages -of my hand.” - -El-Râmi obeyed her in so far that he fixed his eyes upon her more -searchingly than before,--a little knot of fashionable loungers had -stopped to listen, and now watched her face with equal curiosity. No -rush of embarrassed colour tinged the cool fairness of her cheeks--her -expression was one of quiet, half-smiling indifference--her attitude -full of perfect self-possession. - -“No one who looks at your eyes can call you frivolous Madame,” said -El-Râmi at last.--“And no one who observes the lines of your mouth -and chin could suspect you of latent foolishness. Your physiognomy -must have been judged by the merest surface-observers. As for stature, -we are aware that goes for naught,--most of the heroes and heroines of -history have been small and slight in build. I will now, if you permit -me, take your hand.” - -She laid it at once in his extended palm,--and he slowly closed his -own fingers tightly over it. In a couple of minutes, his face -expressed nothing but astonishment. - -“Is it possible?” he muttered--“can I believe----” he broke off -hurriedly, interrupted by a chorus of voices exclaiming--“Oh, what is -it?--_do_ tell us!” and so forth. - -“May I speak, Madame?” he inquired, bending towards Irene, with -something of reverence. - -She smiled assent. - -“If I am surprised,” he then said slowly, “it is scarcely to be -wondered at, for it is the first time I have ever chanced across the -path of a woman whose life was so perfectly ideal. Madame, to you I -must address the words of Hamlet--‘pure as ice, chaste as snow, thou -shalt not escape calumny.’ Such an existence as yours, stainless, -lofty, active, hopeful, patient, and independent, is a reproach to -men, and few will love you for being so superior. Those who do love -you, will probably love in vain,--for the completion of your existence -is not here--but elsewhere.” - -Her soft eyes dilated wonderingly,--the people immediately around her -stared vaguely at El-Râmi’s dark impenetrable face. - -“Then shall I be alone all my life as I am now?” she asked, as he -released her hand. - -“Are you sure you are alone?” he said with a grave smile.--“Are there -not more companions in the poet’s so-called solitude than in the -crowded haunts of men?” - -She met his earnest glance, and her own face grew radiant with a -certain sweet animation that made it very lovely. - -“You are right,” she replied simply--“I see you understand.” - -Then, with a graceful salutation, she prepared to move away--Roy -Ainsworth pressed up close to her. - -“Are you satisfied with your fortune, Madame Vassilius?” he asked -rather querulously. - -“Indeed I am,” she answered. “Why should I not be?” - -“If loneliness is a part of it,” he said audaciously, “I suppose you -will never marry?” - -“I suppose not,” she said with a ripple of laughter in her voice.--“I -fear I should never be able to acknowledge a man my superior!” - -She left him then, and he stood for a moment looking after her with a -vexed air,--then he turned anew towards El-Râmi, who was just -exchanging greetings with Sir Frederick Vaughan. This latter young man -appeared highly embarrassed and nervous, and seemed anxious to -unburden himself of something which apparently was difficult to utter. -He stared at Féraz, pulled the ends of his long moustache, and made -scrappy remarks on nothing in particular, while El-Râmi observed him -with amused intentness. - -“I say, do you remember the night we saw the new Hamlet?” he blurted -out at last.--“You know--I haven’t seen you since----” - -“I remember most perfectly,” said El-Râmi composedly--“‘To be or not -to be’ was the question then with you, as well as with Hamlet--but I -suppose it is all happily decided now as ‘to be.’” - -“What is decided?” stammered Sir Frederick--“I mean, how do you know -everything is decided, eh?” - -“When is your marriage to take place?” asked El-Râmi. - -Vaughan almost jumped. - -“By Jove!--you are an uncanny fellow!” he exclaimed.--“However, as it -happens, you are right. I’m engaged to Miss Chester.” - -“It is no surprise to me, but pray allow me to congratulate you!” and -El-Râmi smiled.--“You have lost no time about it, I must say! It is -only a fortnight since you first saw the lady at the theatre. -Well!--confess me a true prophet!” - -Sir Frederick looked uncomfortable, and was about to enter into an -argument concerning the _pros_ and _cons_ of prophetic insight, when -Lady Melthorpe suddenly emerged from the circling whirlpool of her -fashionable guests and sailed towards them with a swan-like grace and -languor. - -“I cannot find the dear Baroness,” she said plaintively. “She is so -much in demand! Do you know, my dear El-Râmi, she is really almost as -wonderful as you are! Not quite--oh, not quite, but nearly! She can -tell you all your past and future by the lines of your hand, in the -most astonishing manner! Can you do that also?” - -El-Râmi laughed. - -“It is a gipsy’s trick,” he said,--“and the _bonâ-fide_ gipsies who -practise it in country lanes for the satisfaction of servant girls get -arrested by the police for ‘fortune-telling.’ The gipsies of the -London drawing-rooms escape scot-free.” - -“Oh, you are severe!” said Lady Melthorpe, shaking her finger at him -with an attempt at archness--“You are really very severe! You must not -be hard on our little amusements,--you know, in this age, we are all -so very much interested in the supernatural!” - -El-Râmi grew paler, and a slight shudder shook his frame. The -supernatural! How lightly people talked of that awful Something, that -like a formless Shadow waits behind the portals of the grave!--that -Something that evinced itself, suggested itself, nay, almost declared -itself, in spite of his own doubts, in the momentary contact of a hand -with his own, as in the case of Irene Vassilius. For in that contact -he had received a faint, yet decided thrill through his nerves--a -peculiar sensation which he recognised as a warning of something -spiritually above himself,--and this had compelled him to speak of an -“elsewhere” for her, though for himself he persisted in nourishing the -doubt that an “elsewhere” existed. Roy Ainsworth, the artist, -observing him closely, noted how stern and almost melancholy was the -expression of his handsome dark face,--then glancing from him to his -brother, was surprised at the marked difference between the two. The -frank, open, beautiful features of Féraz seemed to invite confidence, -and, acting on the suggestion made to him by Madame Vassilius, he -spoke abruptly. - -“I wish you would sit to me,” he said. - -“Sit to you? For a picture, do you mean?” and Féraz looked delighted -yet amazed. - -“Yes. You have just the face I want. Are you in town?--can you spare -the time?” - -“I am always with my brother”--began Féraz hesitatingly. - -El-Râmi heard him, and smiled rather sadly. - -“Féraz is his own master,” he said gently, “and his time is quite at -his own disposal.” - -“Then come and let us talk it over,” said Ainsworth, taking Féraz by -the arm. “I’ll pilot you through this crowd, and we’ll make for some -quiet corner where we can sit down. Come along!” - -Out of old habit Féraz glanced at his brother for permission, but -El-Râmi’s head was turned away; he was talking to Lord Melthorpe. So -through the brilliant throng of fashionable men and women, many of -whom turned to stare at him as he passed, Féraz went, half eager, -half reluctant, his large fawn-like eyes flashing an innocent -wonderment on the scene around him,--a scene different from everything -to which he had been accustomed. He was uncomfortably conscious that -there was something false and even deadly beneath all this glitter and -show,--but his senses were dazzled for the moment, though the -poet-soul of him instinctively recoiled from the noise and glare and -restless movement of the crowd. It was his first entry into so-called -“society”;--and, though attracted and interested, he was also somewhat -startled and abashed--for he felt instinctively that he was thrown -upon his own resources,--that, for the present at any rate, his -brother’s will no longer influenced him, and with the sudden sense of -liberty came the sudden sense of fear. - - - - - XXIV. - -Towards midnight the expected Royal Personage came and went; -fatigued but always amiable, he shed the sunshine of his stereotyped -smile on Lady Melthorpe’s “crush”--shook hands with his host and -hostess, nodded blandly to a few stray acquaintances, and went through -all the dreary duties of social boredom heroically, though he was -pining for his bed more wearily than any work-worn digger of the soil. -He made his way out more quickly than he came in, and with his -departure a great many of the more “snobbish” among the fashionable -set disappeared also, leaving the rooms freer and cooler for their -absence. People talked less loudly and assertively,--little groups -began to gather in corners and exchange friendly chit-chat,--men who -had been standing all the evening found space to sit down beside their -favoured fair ones, and indulge themselves in talking a little -pleasant nonsense,--even the hostess herself was at last permitted to -occupy an arm-chair and take a few moments’ rest. Some of the guests -had wandered into the music-saloon, a quaintly-decorated oak-panelled -apartment which opened out from the largest drawing-room. A string -band had played there till Royalty had come and gone, but now “sweet -harmony” no longer “wagged her silver tongue,” for the musicians were -at supper. The grand piano was open, and Madame Vassilius stood near -it, idly touching the ivory keys now and then with her small white, -sensitive-looking fingers. Close beside her, comfortably ensconced in -a round deep chair, sat a very stout old lady with a curiously large -hairy face and a beaming expression of eye, who appeared to have got -into her pink silk gown by some cruelly unnatural means, so tightly -was she laced, and so much did she seem in danger of bursting. She -perspired profusely and smiled perpetually, and frequently stroked the -end of her very pronounced moustache with quite a mannish air. This -was the individual for whom Lady Melthorpe had been searching,--the -Baroness von Denkwald, noted for her skill in palmistry. - -“Ach! it is warm!” she said in her strong German accent, giving an -observant and approving glance at Irene’s white-draped form.--“You are -ze one womans zat is goot to look at. A peach mit ice-cream,--dot is -yourself.” - -Irene smiled pensively, but made no answer. - -The Baroness looked at her again, and fanned herself rapidly. - -“It is sometings bad mit you?” she asked at last.--“You look -sorrowful? Zat Eastern mans--he say tings disagreeable? You should -pelieve _me_,--I have told you of your hand--ach! what a -fortune!--splendid!--fame,--money, title,--a grand marriage----” - -Irene lifted her little hand from the keyboard of the piano, and -looked curiously at the lines in her pretty palm. - -“Dear Baroness, there must be some mistake,” she said slowly.--“I was -a lonely child,--and some people say that as you begin, so will you -end. I shall never marry--I am a lonely woman, and it will always be -so.” - -“Always, always--not at all!” and the Baroness shook her large head -obstinately. “You will marry; and Gott in Himmel save you from a -husband such as mine! He is dead--oh yes--a goot ting;--he is petter -off--and so am I. Moch petter!” - -And she laughed, the rise and fall of her ample neck causing quite a -cracking sound in the silk of her bodice. - -Madame Vassilius smiled again,--and then again grew serious. She was -thinking of the “elsewhere” that El-Râmi had spoken of,--she had -noticed that all he said had seemed to be uttered involuntarily,--and -that he had hesitated strangely before using the word “elsewhere.” She -longed to ask him one or two more questions,--and scarcely had the -wish formed itself in her mind, than she saw him advancing from the -drawing-room, in company with Lord Melthorpe, Sir Frederick Vaughan, -and the pretty frivolous Idina Chester, who, regardless of all that -poets write concerning the unadorned simplicity of youth, had decked -herself, American fashion, with diamonds enough for a dowager. - -“It’s too lovely!” the young lady was saying as she entered.--“I -think, Mr. El-Râmi, you have made me out a most charming creature! -“Unemotional, harmless, and innocently worldly”--that was it, wasn’t -it? Well now, I think that’s splendid! I had an idea you were going to -find out something horrid about me;--I’m so glad I’m harmless! You’re -sure I’m harmless?” - -“Quite sure!” said El-Râmi with a slight smile. “And there you -possess a great superiority over most women.” - -And he stepped forward in obedience to Lady Melthorpe’s signal, to be -introduced to the “dear” Baroness, whose shrewd little eyes dwelt upon -him curiously. - -“Do you believe in palmistry?” she asked him, after the ordinary -greetings were exchanged. - -“I’m afraid not,” he answered politely--“though I am acquainted with -the rules of the art as practised in the East, and I know that many -odd coincidences do occur. But,--as an example--take _my_ hand--I am -sure you can make nothing of it.” - -He held out his open palm for her inspection--she bent over it, and -uttered an exclamation of surprise. There were none of the usual -innumerable little criss-cross lines upon it--nothing, in fact, but -two deep dents from left to right, and one well-marked line running -from the wrist to the centre. - -“It is unnatural!” cried the Baroness in amazement.--“It is a -malformation! There is no hand like it!” - -“I believe not,” answered El-Râmi composedly.--“As I told you, you -can learn nothing from it--and yet my life has not been without its -adventures. This hand of mine is my excuse for not accepting palmistry -as an absolutely proved science.” - -“Must everything be ‘proved’ for you?” asked Irene Vassilius suddenly. - -“Assuredly, Madame!” - -“Then have you ‘proved’ the elsewhere of which you spoke to me?” - -El-Râmi flushed a little,--then paled again. - -“Madame, the message of your inner spirit, as conveyed first through -the electric medium of your brain, and then through the magnetism of -your touch, told me of an ‘elsewhere.’ I may not personally or -positively know of any ‘elsewhere,’ than this present state of -being,--but your interior Self expects an ‘elsewhere,’--apparently -knows of it better than I do, and conveys that impression and -knowledge to me, apart from any consideration as to whether I may be -fitted to understand or receive it.” - -These words were heard with evident astonishment by the little group -of people who stood by, listening. - -“Dear me! How _ve--ry_ curious!” murmured Lady Melthorpe.--“And we -have always looked upon dear Madame Vassilius as quite a -free-thinker,”--here she smiled apologetically, as Irene lifted her -serious eyes and looked at her steadily--“I mean, as regards the next -world and all those interesting subjects. In some of her books, for -instance, she is terribly severe on the clergy.” - -“Not more so than many of them deserve, I am sure,” said El-Râmi with -sudden heat and asperity.--“It was not Christ’s intention, I believe, -that the preachers of His Gospel should drink and hunt, and make love -to their neighbours’ wives _ad libitum_, which is what a great many of -them do. The lives of the clergy nowadays offer very few worthy -examples to the laity.” - -Lady Melthorpe coughed delicately and warningly. She did not like -plain speaking,--she had a “pet clergyman” of her own,--moreover, she -had been bred up in the provinces among “county” folk, some of whom -still believe that at one period of the world’s history “God” was -always wanting the blood of bulls and goats to smell “as a sweet -savour in His nostrils.” She herself preferred to believe in the -possibility of the Deity’s having “nostrils,” rather than take the -trouble to consider the effect of His majestic Thought as evinced in -the supremely perfect order of the planets and solar systems. - -El-Râmi, however, went on regardlessly. - -“Free-thinkers,” he said, “are for the most part truth-seekers. If -everybody gave way to the foolish credulity attained to by the -believers in the ‘Mahatmas’ for instance, what an idiotic condition -the world would be in! We want free-thinkers,--as many as we can -get,--to help us to distinguish between the false and the true. We -want to separate the Actual from the Seeming in our lives,--and there -is so much Seeming and so little Actual that the process is -difficult.” - -“Why, dat is nonsense!” said the Baroness von Denkwald. “Mit a Fact, -zere is no mistake--you prove him. See!” and she took up a silver -penholder from the table near her.--“Here is a pen,--mit ink it is -used to write--zere is what you call ze Actual.” - -El-Râmi smiled. - -“Believe me, my dear Madame, it is only a pen so long as you elect to -view it in that light. Allow me!”--and he took it from her hand, -fixing his eyes upon her the while. “Will you place the tips of your -fingers--the fingers of the left hand--yes--so! on my wrist? Thank -you!”--this, as she obeyed with a rather vague smile on her big fat -face.--“Now you will let me have the satisfaction of offering you this -spray of lilies--the first of the season,” and he gravely extended the -silver penholder.--“Is not the odour delicious?” - -“Ach! it is heavenly!” and the Baroness smelt at the penholder with an -inimitable expression of delight. Everybody began to laugh--El-Râmi -silenced them by a look. - -“Madame you are under some delusion,” he said quietly.--“You have no -lilies in your hand, only a penholder.” - -She laughed. - -“You are very funny!” she said--“but I shall not be deceived. I shall -wear my lilies.” - -And she endeavoured to fasten the penholder in the front of her -bodice,--when suddenly El-Râmi drew his hand away from hers. A -startled expression passed over her face, but in a minute or two she -recovered her equanimity and twirled the penholder placidly between -her fingers. - -“Zere is what you call ze Actual,” she said, taking up the -conversation where it had previously been interrupted.--“A penholder -is always a penholder--you can make nothing more of it.” - -But here she was surrounded by the excited onlookers--a flood of -explanations poured upon her, as to how she had taken that same -penholder for a spray of lilies, and so forth, till the old lady grew -quite hot and angry. - -“I shall not pelieve you!” she said indignantly.--“It is impossible. -You haf a joke--but I do not see it. Irene”--and she looked -appealingly to Madame Vassilius, who had witnessed the whole -scene--“it is not true, is it?” - -“Yes, dear Baroness, it is true,” said Irene soothingly.--“But it is a -nothing after all. Your eyes were deceived for the moment--and Mr. -El-Râmi has shown us very cleverly, by scientific exposition, how the -human sight can be deluded--he conveyed an impression of lilies to -your brain, and you saw lilies accordingly. I quite understand,--it is -only through the brain that we receive any sense of sight. The thing -is easy of comprehension, though it seems wonderful.” - -“It is devilry!” said the Baroness solemnly, getting up and shaking -out her voluminous pink train with a wrathful gesture. - -“No, Madame,” said El-Râmi earnestly, with a glance at her which -somehow had the effect of quieting her ruffled feelings. “It is merely -science. Science was looked upon as ‘devilry’ in ancient times,--but -we in our generation are more liberal-minded.” - -“But what shall it lead to, all zis science?” demanded the Baroness, -still with some irritation.--“I see not any use in it. If one deceive -ze eye so quickly, it is only to make peoples angry to find demselves -such fools!” - -“Ah, my dear lady, if we could all know to what extent exactly we -could be fooled,--not only as regards our sight, but our other senses -and passions, we should be wiser and more capable of self-government -than we are. Every step that helps us to the attainment of such -knowledge is worth the taking.” - -“And you have taken so many of those steps,” said Irene Vassilius, -“that I suppose it would be difficult to deceive _you_?” - -“I am only human, Madame,” returned El-Râmi, with a faint touch of -bitterness in his tone, “and therefore I am capable of being led -astray by my own emotions as others are.” - -“Are we not getting too analytical?” asked Lord Melthorpe cheerily. -“Here is Miss Chester wanting to know where your brother Féraz is. -She only caught a glimpse of him in the distance,--and she would like -to make his closer acquaintance.” - -“He went with Mr. Ainsworth,” began El-Râmi. - -“Yes--I saw them together in the conservatory,” said Lady Melthorpe. -“They were deep in conversation--but it is time they gave us a little -of their company--I’ll go and fetch them here.” - -She went, but almost immediately returned, followed by the two -individuals in question. Féraz looked a little flushed and -excited,--Roy Ainsworth calm and nonchalant as usual. - -“I’ve asked your brother to come and sit to me to-morrow,” the latter -said, addressing himself at once to El-Râmi. “He is quite willing to -oblige me,--and I presume you have no objection?” - -“Not the least in the world!” responded El-Râmi with apparent -readiness, though the keen observer might have detected a slight ring -of satirical coldness in his tone. - -“He is a curious fellow,” continued Roy, looking at Féraz where he -stood, going through the formality of an introduction to Miss Chester, -whose bold bright eyes rested upon him in frank and undisguised -admiration. “He seems to know nothing of life.” - -“What do you call ‘life’?” demanded El-Râmi, with harsh abruptness. - -“Why, life as we men live it, of course,” answered Roy, complacently. - -“‘Life, as we men live it!’” echoed El-Râmi. “By Heaven, there is -nothing viler under the sun than life lived so! The very beasts have a -more decent and self-respecting mode of behaviour,--and the everyday -existence of an ordinary ‘man about town’ is low and contemptible as -compared with that of an honest-hearted dog!” - -Ainsworth lifted his languid eyes with a stare of amazement;--Irene -Vassilius smiled. - -“I agree with you!” she said softly. - -“Oh, of course!” murmured Roy sarcastically--“Madame Vassilius agrees -with everything that points to, or suggests, the utter worthlessness -of Man!” - -Her eyes flashed. - -“Believe me,” she said, with some passion, “I would give worlds to be -able to honour and revere men,--and there are some whom I sincerely -respect and admire,--but I frankly admit that the majority of them -awaken nothing in me but the sentiment of contempt. I regret it, but I -cannot help it.” - -“You want men to be gods,” said Ainsworth, regarding her with an -indulgent smile; “and when they can’t succeed, poor wretches, you are -hard on them. You are a born goddess, and to you it comes quite -naturally to occupy a throne on Mount Olympus, and gaze with placid -indifference on all below,--but to others the process is difficult. -For example, I am a groveller. I grovel round the base of the mountain -and rather like it. A valley is warmer than a summit, always.” - -A faint sea-shell pink flush crept over Irene’s cheeks, but she made -no reply. She was watching Féraz, round whom a bevy of pretty women -were congregated, like nineteenth-century nymphs round a new Eastern -Apollo. He looked a little embarrassed, yet his very diffidence had an -indefinable grace and attraction about it which was quite novel and -charming to the jaded fashionable fair ones who for the moment made -him their chief object of attention. They were pressing him to give -them some music, and he hesitated, not out of any shyness to perform, -but simply from a sense of wonder as to how such a spiritual, -impersonal, and divine thing as Music could be made to assert itself -in the midst of so much evident frivolity. He looked appealingly at -his brother,--but El-Râmi regarded him not. He understood this mute -avoidance of his eyes,--he was thrown upon himself to do exactly as he -chose,--and his sense of pride stimulated him to action. Breaking from -the ring of his fair admirers, he advanced towards the piano. - -“I will play a simple prelude,” he said, “and, if you like it, you -shall hear more.” - -There was an immediate silence. Irene Vassilius moved a little apart -and sat on a low divan, her hands clasped idly in her lap;--near her -stood Lord Melthorpe, Roy Ainsworth, and El-Râmi;--Sir Frederick -Vaughan and his _fiancée_, Idina Chester, occupied what is known as a -“flirtation chair” together; several guests flocked in from the -drawing-rooms, so that the _salon_ was comparatively well filled. -Féraz poised his delicate and supple hands on the keyboard,--and -then--why, what then? Nothing!--only music!--music divinely pure and -sweet as a lark’s song,--music that spoke of things as yet undeclared -in mortal language,--of the mystery of an angel’s tears--of the joy of -a rose in bloom,--of the midsummer dreams of a lily enfolded within -its green leaf-pavilion,--of the love-messages carried by silver beams -from bridegroom-stars to bride-satellites,--of a hundred delicate and -wordless marvels the music talked eloquently in rounded and mystic -tone. And gradually, but invincibly, upon all those who listened, -there fell the dreamy nameless spell of perfect harmony,--they did not -understand, they could not grasp the far-off heavenly meanings which -the sounds conveyed, but they knew and felt such music was not -earthly. The quest of gold, or thirst of fame, had nothing to do with -such composition--it was above and beyond all that. When the delicious -melody ceased, it seemed to leave an emptiness in the air,--an aching -regret in the minds of the audience; it had fallen like dew on arid -soil, and there were tears in many eyes, and passionate emotions -stirring many hearts, as Féraz pressed his finger-tips with a -velvet-like softness on the closing chord. Then came a burst of -excited applause which rather startled him from his dreams. He looked -round with a faint smile of wonderment, and this time chanced to meet -his brother’s gaze earnestly fixed upon him. Then an idea seemed to -occur to him, and, playing a few soft notes by way of introduction, he -said aloud, almost as though he were talking to himself-- - -“There are in the world’s history a few old legends and stories, -which, whether they are related in prose or rhyme, seem to set -themselves involuntarily to music. I will tell you one now, if you -care to hear it,--the Story of the Priest Philemon.” - -There was a murmur of delight and expectation, followed by profound -silence as before. - -Féraz lifted his eyes,--bright stag-like eyes, now flashing with -warmth and inspiration,--and, pressing the piano pedals, he played a -few slow solemn chords like the opening bars of a church chant; then, -in a soft, rich, perfectly modulated voice, he began. - - - - - XXV. - -“Long, long ago, in a far-away province of the Eastern world, there -was once a priest named Philemon. Early and late he toiled to acquire -wisdom--early and late he prayed and meditated on things divine and -unattainable. To the Great Unknown his aspirations turned; with all -the ardour of his soul he sought to penetrate behind the mystic veil -of the supreme centre of creation; and the joys and sorrows, hopes and -labours of mortal existence seemed to him but worthless and -contemptible trifles when compared with the eternal marvels of the -incomprehensible Hereafter, on which, in solitude, he loved to dream -and ponder.” - -Here Féraz paused,--and, touching the keys of the piano with a -caressing lightness, played a soft minor melody, which, like a silver -thread of sound, accompanied his next words. - -“And so, by gradual and almost imperceptible degrees, the wise priest -Philemon forgot the world;--forgot men, and women, and little -children,--forgot the blueness of the skies, the verdure of the -fields,--forgot the grace of daisies growing in the grass,--forgot the -music of sweet birds singing in the boughs,--forgot indeed everything, -except--himself!--and his prayers, and his wisdom, and his burning -desire to approach more closely every hour to that wondrous goal of -the Divine from whence all life doth come, and to which all life must, -in due time, return.” - -Here the musical accompaniment changed to a plaintive tenderness. - -“But, by and by, news of the wise priest Philemon began to spread in -the town near where he had his habitation,--and people spoke of his -fastings and his watchings with awe and wonder, with hope and -fear,--until at last there came a day when a great crowd of the sick -and sorrowful and oppressed surrounded his abode, and called upon him -to pray for them, and give them comfort. - -“‘Bestow upon _us_ some of the Divine consolation!’ they cried, -kneeling in the dust and weeping as they spoke--‘for we are weary and -worn with labour,--we suffer with harsh wounds of the heart and -spirit,--many of us have lost all that makes life dear. Pity us, O -thou wise servant of the Supreme--and tell us out of thy stores of -heavenly wisdom whether we shall ever regain the loves that we have -lost!’ - -“Then the priest Philemon rose up in haste and wrath, and going out -before them said-- - -“‘Depart from me, ye accursed crew of wicked worldlings! Why have ye -sought me out, and what have I to do with your petty miseries? Lo, ye -have brought the evils of which ye complain upon yourselves, and -justice demands that ye should suffer. Ask not from me one word of -pity--seek not from me any sympathy for sin. I have severed myself -from ye all, to escape pollution,--my life belongs to God, not to -Humanity!’ - -“And the people hearing him were wroth, and went their way homewards, -sore at heart, and all uncomforted. And Philemon the priest, fearing -lest they might seek him out again, departed from that place for ever, -and made for himself a hut in the deep thickness of the forest where -never a human foot was found to wander save his own. Here in the -silence and deep solitude he resolved to work and pray, keeping his -heart and spirit sanctified from every soiling touch of nature that -could separate his thoughts from the Divine.” - -Again the music changed, this time to a dulcet rippling passage of -notes like the flowing of a mountain stream,--and Féraz continued,-- - -“One morning, as, lost in a rapture of holy meditation, he prayed his -daily prayer, a small bird perched upon his window-sill, and began to -sing. Not a loud song, but a sweet song--full of the utmost tenderness -and playful warbling,--a song born out of the leaves and grasses and -gentle winds of heaven,--as delicate a tune as ever small bird sang. -The priest Philemon listened, and his mind wandered. The bird’s -singing was sweet; oh, so sweet, that it recalled to him many things -he had imagined long ago forgotten,--almost he heard his mother’s -voice again,--and the blithe and gracious days of his early youth -suggested themselves to his memory like the lovely fragments of a poem -once familiar, but now scarce remembered. Presently the bird flew -away, and the priest Philemon awoke as from a dream,--his prayer had -been interrupted; his thoughts had been drawn down to earth from -heaven, all through the twittering of a foolish feathered thing not -worth a farthing! Angry with himself, he spent the day in -penitence,--and on the following morning betook himself to his -devotions with more than his usual ardour. Stretched on his prayer-mat -he lay entranced; when suddenly a low sweet trill of sound broke -gently through the silence,--the innocent twittering voice of the -little bird once more aroused him,--first to a sense of wonder, then -of wrath. Starting up impatiently he looked about him, and saw the -bird quite close, within his reach,--it had flown inside his hut, and -now hopped lightly over the floor towards him, its bright eyes full of -fearless confidence, its pretty wings still quivering with the fervour -of its song. Then the priest Philemon seized a heavy oaken staff, and -slew it where it stood with one remorseless blow, and flung the little -heap of ruffled feathers out into the woodland, saying fiercely-- - -“‘Thou, at least, shalt never more disturb my prayers!’ - -“And, even as he thus spoke, a great light shone forth suddenly, more -dazzling than the brightness of the day, and lo! an Angel stood within -the hut, just where the dead bird’s blood had stained the floor. And -the priest Philemon fell upon his face and trembled greatly, for the -Vision was more glorious than the grandest of his dreams. And a Voice -called aloud, saying-- - -“‘Philemon, why hast thou slain My messenger?’ - -“And Philemon looked up in fear and wonderment, answering-- - -“‘Dread Lord, what messenger? I have slain nothing but a bird.’ - -“And the voice spake again, saying-- - -“‘O thou remorseless priest!--Knowest thou not that every bird in the -forest is Mine,--every leaf on the trees is Mine,--every blade of -grass and every flower is Mine, and is a part of Me! The song of that -slain bird was sweeter than thy many prayers;--and when thou didst -listen to its voice thou wert nearer Heaven than thou hast ever been! -Thou hast rebelled against My law;--in rejecting Love, thou hast -rejected Me,--and when thou didst turn the poor and needy from thy -doors, refusing them all comfort, even so did I turn My Face from thee -and refuse thy petitions. Wherefore hear now thy punishment. For the -space of a thousand years thou shalt live within this forest;--no -human eye shall ever find thee,--no human foot shall ever track -thee--no human voice shall ever sound upon thy ears. No companions -shalt thou have but birds and beasts and flowers,--from these shalt -thou learn wisdom, and through thy love of these alone shalt thou make -thy peace with Heaven! Pray no more,--fast no more,--for such things -count but little in the eternal reckonings,--but _love_!--and learn to -make thyself beloved, even by the least and lowest, and by this shalt -thou penetrate at last the mystery of the Divine!’ - -“The voice ceased--the glory vanished, and when the priest Philemon -raised his eyes he was alone.” - -Here, altering by a few delicate modulations the dreamy character of -the music he had been improvising, Féraz reverted again to the -quaint, simple, and solemn chords with which he had opened the -recitation. - -“Humbled in spirit, stricken at heart, conscious of the justice of his -doom, yet working as one not without hope, Philemon began his -heaven-appointed task. And to this day travellers’ legends tell of a -vast impenetrable solitude, a forest of giant trees, where never a -human step has trod, but where, it is said, strange colonies of birds -and beasts do congregate,--where rare and marvellous plants and -flowers flourish in their fairest hues,--where golden bees and -dazzling butterflies gather by thousands,--where all the songsters of -the air make the woods musical,--where birds of passage, outward or -homeward bound, rest on their way, sure of a pleasant haven,--and -where all the beautiful, wild, and timid inhabitants of field, forest, -and mountain are at peace together, mutually content in an Eden of -their own. There is a guardian of the place,--so say the country -people,--a Spirit, thin and white, and silver-haired, who understands -the language of the birds, and knows the secrets of the flowers, and -in whom all the creatures of the woods confide--a mystic being whose -strange life has lasted nearly a thousand years. Generations have -passed--cities and empires have crumbled to decay,--and none remember -him who was once called Philemon,--the ‘wise’ priest, grown wise -indeed at last, with the only wisdom God ever sanctifies--the Wisdom -of Love.” - -With a soft impressive chord the music ceased,--the story was -ended,--and Féraz rose from the piano to be surrounded at once by a -crowd of admirers, all vying with each other in flattering expressions -of applause and delight; but, though he received these compliments -with unaffected and courteous grace enough, his eyes perpetually -wandered to his brother’s face,--that dark, absorbed beloved -face,--yes, beloved!--for, rebel as he might against El-Râmi’s -inflexible will and despotic power, Féraz knew he could never wrench -from out his heart the deep affection and reverence for him which were -the natural result of years of tender and sympathetic intercourse. If -his brother had commanded him, he had also loved him,--there could be -no doubt of that. Was he displeased or unhappy now, that he looked so -sad and absorbed in gloomy and perplexed thought? A strange pained -emotion stirred Féraz’s sensitive soul,--some intangible vague sense -of separation seemed to have arisen between himself and El-Râmi, and -he grew impatient with this brilliant assembly of well-dressed -chattering folk, whose presence prevented him from giving vent to the -full expression of his feelings. Lady Melthorpe talked to him in -dulcet languid tones, fanning herself the while, and telling him -sweetly what a “wonderful touch” he had,--what an “exquisite speaking -voice”--and so forth, all which elegantly turned phrases he heard as -in a dream. As soon as he could escape from her and those of her -friends who were immediately round him, he made his way to El-Râmi -and touched his arm. - -“Let me stay beside you!” he said in a low tone in which there was a -slight accent of entreaty. - -El-Râmi turned, and looked at him kindly. - -“Dear boy, you had better make new friends while you can, lest the old -be taken from you.” - -“Friends!” echoed Féraz--“Friends--_here_?” He gave a gesture more -eloquent than speech, of doubt and disdain,--then continued, “Might we -not go now? Is it not time to return home and sleep?” - -El-Râmi smiled. - -“Nay, are we not seeing life? Here we are among pretty women, -well-bred men--the rooms are elegant,--and the conversation is as -delightfully vague and nearly as noisy as the chattering of -monkeys--yet, with all these advantages, you talk of sleep!” - -Féraz laughed a little. - -“Yes, I am tired,” he said. “It does not seem to me real, all -this--there is something shadowy and unsubstantial about it. I think -sleep is better.” - -At that moment Irene Vassilius came up to them. - -“I am just going,” she said, letting her soft serious eyes dwell on -Féraz with interest, “but I feel I must thank you for your story of -the ‘Priest Philemon.’ Is it your own idea?--or does such a legend -exist?” - -“Nothing is really new,” replied Féraz--“but, such as it is, it is my -own invention.” - -“Then you are a poet and musician at one and the same time,” said -Irene. “It seems a natural combination of gifts, yet the two do not -always go together. I hope”--she now addressed herself to El-Râmi--“I -hope very much you will come and see me, though I’m afraid I’m not a -very popular person. My friends are few, so I cannot promise you much -entertainment. Indeed, as a rule, people do not like me.” - -“_I_ like you!” said Féraz, quickly and impulsively. - -She smiled. - -“Yes? That is good of you. And I believe you, for you are too -unworldly to deal in flatteries. But I assure you that, generally -speaking, literary women are never social favourites.” - -“Not even when they are lovely like you?” questioned Féraz, with -simple frankness. - -She coloured at the evident sincerity of his admiration and the boyish -openness with which it was thus expressed. Then she laughed a little. - -“Loveliness is not acknowledged as at all existent in literary -females,” she replied lightly, yet with a touch of scorn,--“even if -they do possess any personal charm, it only serves as a peg for the -malicious to hang a slander on. And, of the two sexes, men are most -cruel to a woman who dares to think for herself.” - -“Are you sure of that, Madame?” asked El-Râmi gently. “May not this -be an error of your judgment?” - -“I would that it were!” she said with intense expression--“Heaven -knows how sincerely I should rejoice to be proved wrong! But I am not -wrong. Men always judge women as their inferiors, not only physically -(which they are) but mentally (which they are not), and always deny -them an independent soul and independent emotions,--the majority of -men, indeed, treat them pretty much as a sort of superior -cattle;--but, nevertheless, there is a something in what the French -call ‘L’Éternel Féminin.’ Women are distinctly the greatest -sufferers in all suffering creation,--and I have often thought that -for so much pain and so much misjudgment, endured often with such -heroic silence and uncomplaining fortitude, the compensation will be -sweeter and more glorious than we, half drowned in our own tears, can -as yet hope for, or imagine!” - -She paused--her eyes were dark with thought and full of a dreamy -sorrow,--then, smiling gently, she held out her hand. - -“I talk too much, you will say--women always do! Come and see me if -you feel disposed--not otherwise; I will send you my card through Lady -Melthorpe--meantime, good-night!” - -El-Râmi took her hand, and, as he pressed it in his own, felt again -that curious thrill which had before communicated itself to his nerves -through the same contact. - -“Surely you must be a visionary, Madame!” he said, abruptly and with a -vague sense of surprise--“and you see things not at all of this -world!” - -Her faint roseate colour deepened, giving singular beauty to her face. - -“What a tell-tale hand mine is!” she replied, withdrawing it slowly -from his clasp. “Yes--you are right,--if I could not see things higher -than this world, I could not endure my existence for an hour. It is -because I feel the future so close about me that I have courage for, -and indifference to, the present.” - -With that, she left them, and both El-Râmi and Féraz followed her -graceful movements with interested eyes, as she glided through the -rooms in her snowy trailing robes, with the frosty flash of diamonds -in her hair, till she had altogether disappeared; then the languid -voice of Lady Melthorpe addressed them. - -“Isn’t she an odd creature, that Irene Vassilius? So quaint and -peculiar in her ideas! People detest her, you know--she is so -dreadfully clever!” - -“There could not be a better reason for hatred!” said El-Râmi. - -“You see, she says such unpleasant things,” went on Lady Melthorpe, -complacently fanning herself,--“she has such decided opinions, and -will not accommodate herself to people’s ways. I must confess I always -find her _de trop_ myself.” - -“She was your guest to-night,” said Féraz suddenly, and with such a -sternness in his accent as caused her ladyship to look at him in blank -surprise. - -“Certainly! One must always ask a celebrity.” - -“If one must always ask, then one is bound always to respect,” said -Féraz coldly. “In our _code d’honneur_, we never speak ill of those -who have partaken of our hospitality.” - -So saying, he turned on his heel and walked away with so much -haughtiness of demeanour that Lady Melthorpe stood as though rooted to -the spot, staring speechlessly after him. Then rousing herself, she -looked at El-Râmi and shrugged her shoulders. - -“Really,” she began,--“really, Mr. El-Râmi, your brother’s manner is -very strange----” - -“It is,” returned El-Râmi quickly--“I admit it. His behaviour is -altogether unpolished--and he is quite unaccustomed to society. I told -Lord Melthorpe so,--and I was against his being invited here. He says -exactly what he thinks, without fear or favour, and in this regard is -really a mere barbarian. Allow me to apologise for him!” - -Lady Melthorpe bowed stiffly,--she saw, or fancied she saw, a faint -ironical smile playing on El-Râmi’s lips beneath his dark moustache. -She was much annoyed,--the idea of a “boy,” like Féraz, presuming to -talk to her, a leader of London fashion, about a _code d’honneur_! The -thing was monstrous,--absurd! And as for Irene Vassilius, why should -not she be talked about?--she was a public person; a writer of books -which Mrs. Grundy in her church-going moods had voted as “dangerous.” -Truly Lady Melthorpe considered she had just cause to be ruffled, and -she began to regret having invited these “Eastern men,” as she termed -them, to her house at all. El-Râmi perceived her irritation, but he -made no further remark; and, as soon as he could conveniently do so, -he took his formal leave of her. Quickly threading his way through the -now rapidly thinning throng, he sought out Féraz, whom he found in -the hall talking to Roy Ainsworth and making final arrangements for -the sitting he was to give the artist next day. - -“I should like to make a study of your head too,” said Roy, with a -keen glance at El-Râmi as he approached--“but I suppose you have no -time.” - -“No time--and still less inclination!” responded El-Râmi laughingly; -“for I have sworn that no ‘counterfeit presentment’ of my bodily form -shall ever exist. It would always be a false picture--it would never -be me, because it would only represent the perishable, whilst I am the -imperishable.” - -“Singular man!” said Roy Ainsworth. “What do you mean?” - -“What should I mean,” replied El-Râmi quickly, “save what all your -religions and churches mean, if in truth they have any meaning. Is -there not something else besides this fleshly covering? If you can -paint the imagined Soul of a man looking out of his eyes, you are a -great artist,--but if you could paint the Soul itself, stripped of its -mortal disguise, radiant, ethereal, brilliant as lightning, beautiful -as dawn, you would be greater still. And the soul is the Me,--these -features of mine, this Appearance, is mere covering,--we want a -Portrait, not a Costume.” - -“Your argument applies to your brother as well as yourself,” said -Ainsworth, wondering at the eloquent wildness of this strange -El-Râmi’s language, and fascinated by it in spite of himself. - -“Just so! Only the earth-garment of Féraz is charming and -becoming--mine is not. It is a case of ‘my hair is white but not with -years’--the ‘Prisoner of Chillon’ sort of thing. Good-night!” - -“Good-night!” and the artist shook hands warmly with both brothers, -saying to Féraz as he parted from him--“I may expect you then -to-morrow? You will not fail?” - -“You may rely upon me!” and Féraz nodded lightly in adieu, and -followed El-Râmi out of the house into the street, where they began -to walk homeward together at a rapid rate. As they went, by some -mutual involuntary instinct they lifted their eyes to the dense blue -heavens, where multitudes of stars were brilliantly visible. Féraz -drew a long deep breath. - -“There,” he said, “is the Infinite and Real,--what we have seen of -life to-night is finite and unreal.” - -El-Râmi made no reply. - -“Do you not think so?” persisted Féraz earnestly. - -“I cannot say definitely what is Real and what is Unreal,” said -El-Râmi slowly--“both are so near akin. Féraz, are you aware you -offended Lady Melthorpe to-night?” - -“Why should she be offended? I only said just what I thought.” - -“Good heavens, my dear boy, if you always go about saying just what -you think, you will find the world too hot to hold you. To say the -least of it, you will never be fit for society.” - -“I don’t want to be fit for it,” said Féraz disdainfully, “if Lady -Melthorpe’s ‘at home’ is a picture of it. I want to forget it,--the -most of it, I mean. I shall remember Madame Vassilius because she is -sympathetic and interesting. But for the rest!--my dearest brother, I -am far happier with you.” - -El-Râmi took his arm gently. - -“Yet you leave me to-morrow to gratify an artist’s whim!” he said. -“Have you thought of that?” - -“Oh, but that is nothing--only an hour or two’s sitting. He was so -very anxious that I could not refuse. Does it displease you?” - -“My dear Féraz, I am displeased at nothing. You complained of my -authority over you once--and I have determined you shall not complain -again. Consider yourself free.” - -“I do not want my liberty,” said Féraz almost petulantly. - -“Try it!” responded El-Râmi with a smile and half a sigh. “Liberty is -sweet,--but, like other things, it brings its own responsibilities.” - -They walked on till they had almost reached their own door. - -“Your story of the priest Philemon was very quaint and pretty,” said -El-Râmi then abruptly. “You meant it as a sort of allegory for me, -did you not?” - -Féraz looked wistfully at him, but hesitated to reply. - -“It does not quite fit me,” went on El-Râmi gently. “I am not -impervious to love--for I love _you_. Perhaps the angels will take -that fact into consideration when they are settling my thousand or -million years’ punishment.” - -There was a touch of quiet pathos in his voice which moved Féraz -greatly, and he could not trust himself to speak. When they entered -their own abode, El-Râmi said the usual “Good-night” in his usual -kindly manner,--but Féraz reverently stooped and kissed the hand -extended to him,--the potent hand that had enriched his life with -poesy and dowered it with dreams. - - - - - XXVI. - -All the next day El-Râmi was alone. Féraz went out early to fulfil -the appointment made with Roy Ainsworth; no visitors called,--and not -even old Zaroba came near the study, where, shut up with his books and -papers, her master worked assiduously hour after hour, writing as -rapidly as hand and pen would allow, and satisfying his appetite -solely with a few biscuits dipped in wine. Just as the shadows of -evening were beginning to fall, his long solitude was disturbed by the -sharp knock of a telegraph-messenger, who handed him a missive which -ran briefly thus-- - - “Your brother stays to dine with me.--Ainsworth.” - -El-Râmi crushed the paper in his hand, then, flinging it aside, stood -for a moment, lost in meditation, with a sorrowful expression in his -dark eyes. - -“Ay me! the emptiness of the world!” he murmured at last--“I shall be -left alone, I suppose, as my betters are left, according to the rule -of this curiously designed and singularly unsatisfactory system of -human life. What do the young care for the solitude of their elders -who have tended and loved them? New thoughts, new scenes, new -aspirations beckon them, and off they go like birds on the -wing,--never to return to the old nest or the old ways. I despise the -majority of women myself,--and yet I pity from my soul all those who -are mothers,--the miserable dignity and pathos of maternity are, in my -opinion, grotesquely painful. To think of the anguish the poor -delicate wretches endure in bringing children at all into the -world,--then, the tenderness and watchful devotion expended on their -early years,--and then--why then, these same children grow up for the -most part into indifferent (when not entirely callous) men and women, -who make their own lives as it seems best to themselves, and almost -forget to whom they owe their very existence. It is hard--bitterly -hard. There ought to be some reason for such a wild waste of love and -affliction. At present, however, I can see none.” - -He sighed deeply, and stared moodily into the deepening shadows. - -“Loneliness is horrible!” he said aloud, as though addressing some -invisible auditor. “It is the chief terror of death,--for one must -always die alone. No matter how many friends and relatives stand -weeping round the bed, one is absolutely _alone_ at the hour of death, -for the stunned soul wanders blindly - - “_out of sight,_ - _Far off in a place where it is not heard._” - -That solitary pause and shudder on the brink of the Unseen is -fearful,--it unnerves us all to think of it. If Love could help -us,--but even Love grows faint and feeble then.” - -As he mused thus, a strange vague longing came over him,--an impulse -arising out of he knew not what suggestion; and, acting on his -thought, he went suddenly and swiftly upstairs, and straight into the -chamber of Lilith. Zaroba was there, and rose from her accustomed -corner silently, and moved with a somewhat feeble step into the -ante-room while El-Râmi bent over the sleeping girl. Lovelier than -ever she seemed that evening,--and, as he stooped above her, she -stretched out her fair white arms and smiled. His heart beat -quickly,--he had, for the moment, ceased to analyse his own -feelings,--and he permitted himself to gaze upon her beauty and absorb -it, without, as usual, taking any thought of the scientific aspect of -her condition. - - “Tresses twisted by fairy fingers, - In which the light of the morning lingers!” - -he murmured, as he touched a rippling strand of the lovely hair that -lay spread like a fleece of gold floss silk on the pillow near -him,--“Poor Lilith!--Sweet Lilith!” - -As if responsive to his words, she turned slightly towards him, and -felt the air blindly with one wandering white hand. Gently he caught -it and imprisoned it within his own,--then, on a strange impulse, -kissed it. To his utter amazement she answered that touch as though it -had been a call. - -“I am here, ... my Belovëd!” - -He started, and an icy thrill ran through his veins;--that word -“Belovëd” was a sort of electric shock to his system, and sent a -dizzying rush of blood to his brain. What did she mean,--what could -she mean? The last time she had addressed him she had declared that he -was not even her friend--now she called him her “beloved”--as much to -his amazement as his fear. Presently, however, he considered that here -perhaps was some new development of his experiment;--the soul of -Lilith might possibly be in closer communion with him than he had yet -imagined. But, in spite of his attempt to reason away his emotions, he -was nervous, and stood by the couch silently, afraid to speak, and -equally afraid to move. Lilith was silent too. A long pause ensued, in -which the usually subdued tickings of the clock seemed to become -painfully audible. El-Râmi’s breath came and went quickly,--he was -singularly excited,--some subtle warmth from the little hand he held -permeated his veins, and a sense of such utter powerlessness possessed -him as he had never experienced before. What ailed him? He could not -tell. Where was the iron force of his despotic will? He seemed unable -to exert it,--unable even to _think_ coherently while Lilith’s hand -thus rested in his. Had she grown stronger than himself? A tingling -tremor ran through him, as the strange words of the monk’s written -warning suddenly recurred to his memory. - -“Beware the end! With Lilith’s love comes Lilith’s freedom.” - -But Lilith smiled with placid sweetness, and still left her hand -confidingly in his; he held that hand, so warm and soft and white, and -was loath to let it go,--he studied the rapt expression of the -beautiful face, the lovely curve of the sweet shut lips, the -delicately-veined lids of the closed eyes,--and was dimly conscious of -a sense of vague happiness curiously intermingled with terror. By and -by he began to collect his ideas which had been so suddenly scattered -by the one word “Belovëd,”--and he resolved to break the mystic -silence that oppressed and daunted him. - -“Dreaming or waking, is she?” he queried aloud, a little tremulously, -and as though he were talking to himself. “She must be dreaming!” - -“Dreaming of joy!” said Lilith softly, and with quick -responsiveness--“only that Joy is no dream! I hear your voice,--I am -conscious of your touch,--almost I see you! The cloud hangs there -between us still--but God is good,--He will remove that cloud.” - -El-Râmi listened, perplexed and wondering. - -“Lilith,” he said in a voice that strove in vain to assume its wonted -firmness and authority--“What say you of clouds,--you who are in the -full radiance of a light that is quenchless? Have you not told me of a -glory that out-dazzles the sun, in which you move and have your -being,--then what do you know of Shadow?” - -“Yours is the Shadow,” replied Lilith--“not mine! I would that I could -lift it from your eyes, that you might see the wonder and the beauty. -Oh, cruel Shadow, that lies between my love and me!” - -“Lilith! Lilith!” exclaimed El-Râmi in strange agitation, “Why will -you talk of love!” - -“Do you not think of love?” said Lilith--“and must I not respond to -your innermost thought?” - -“Not always do you so respond, Lilith!” said El-Râmi quickly, -recovering himself a little, and glad of an opportunity to bring back -his mind to a more scientific level. “Often you speak of things I know -not,--things that perhaps I shall never know----” - -“Nay, you _must_ know,” said Lilith, with soft persistence. “Every -unit of life in every planet is bound to know its Cause and Final -Intention. All is clear to me, and will be so to you, hereafter. You -ask me of these things--I tell you,--but you do not believe me;--you -will never believe me till--the end.” - -“Beware the end!” The words echoed themselves so distinctly in -El-Râmi’s mind that he could almost have fancied they were spoken -aloud in the room. “What end?” he asked eagerly. - -But to this Lilith answered nothing. - -He looked at the small sensitive hand he held, and, stroking it -gently, was about to lay it back on her bosom, when all at once she -pressed her fingers closely over his palm, and sat upright, her -delicate face expressive of the most intense emotion, notwithstanding -her closed eyes. - -“Write!” she said in a clear penetrating voice that sent silvery -echoes through the room--“write these truths to the world you live in. -Tell the people they all work for Evil, and therefore Evil shall be -upon them. What they sow, even that shall they reap,--with the measure -they have used, it shall be measured to them again. O wild world!--sad -world!--world wherein the pride of wealth, the joy of sin, the cruelty -of avarice, the curse of selfishness, outweigh all pity, all sympathy, -all love! For this God’s law of Compensation makes but one -return--Destruction. Wars shall prevail; plague and famine shall -ravage the nations;--young children shall murder the parents who bore -them; theft and rapine shall devastate the land. For your world is -striving to live without God,--and a world without God is a disease -that must die. Like a burnt-out star this Earth shall fall from its -sphere and vanish utterly--and its sister-planets shall know it no -more. For when it is born again, it will be new.” - -The words came from her lips with a sort of fervid eloquence which -seemed to exhaust her, for she grew paler and paler, and her head -began to sink backward on the pillow. El-Râmi gently put his arm -round her to support her, and, as he did so, a kind of supernatural -light irradiated her features. - -“Believe me, O my belovëd, believe the words of Lilith!” she -murmured. “There is but one law leading to all Wisdom. Evil generates -Evil, and contains within itself its own retribution. Good generates -Good, and holds within itself the germ of eternal reproduction. Love -begets Love, and from Love is born Immortality!” - -Her voice grew fainter,--she sank entirely back on her pillow; yet -once again her lips moved and the word “Immortality!” floated -whisperingly like a sigh. El-Râmi drew his arm away from her, and at -the same instant disengaged his hand from her clasp. She seemed -bewildered at this, and for a minute or two felt in the air as though -searching for some missing treasure,--then her arms fell passively on -each side of her, seemingly inert and lifeless. El-Râmi bent over her -half curiously, half anxiously,--his eyes dwelt on the ruby-like jewel -that heaved gently up and down on her softly rounded bosom,--he -watched the red play of light around it, and on the white satiny skin -beneath,--and then,--all at once his sight grew dazzled and his brain -began to swim. How lovely she was!--how much more than lovely! And how -utterly she was his!--his, body and soul, and in his power! He was -startled at the tenor of his own unbidden thoughts,--whence, in God’s -name, came these new impulses, these wild desires that fired his -blood? ... Furious with himself for what he deemed the weakness of his -own emotions, he strove to regain the mastery over his nerves,--to -settle his mind once more in its usual attitude of cold inflexibility -and indifferent composure,--but all in vain. Some subtle chord in his -mental composition had been touched mysteriously, he knew not how, and -had set all the other chords a-quivering,--and he felt himself all -suddenly to be as subdued and powerless as when his mysterious -visitor, the monk from Cyprus, had summoned up (to daunt him, as he -thought) the strange vision of an Angel in his room. - -Again he looked at Lilith;--again he resisted the temptation that -assailed him to clasp her in his arms, to shower a lover’s kisses on -her lips, and thus waken her to the full bitter-sweet consciousness of -earthly life,--till in the sharp extremity of his struggle, and -loathing himself for his own folly, he suddenly dropped on his knees -by the side of the couch and gazed with a vague wild entreaty at the -tranquil loveliness that lay there so royally enshrined. - -“Have mercy, Lilith!” he prayed half aloud, and scarcely conscious of -his words. “If you are stronger in your weakness than I in my -strength, have mercy! Repel me,--distrust me, disobey me--but do not -love me! Make me not as one of the foolish for whom a woman’s smile, a -woman’s touch, are more than life, and more than wisdom. O let me not -waste the labour of my days on a freak of passion!--let me not lose -everything I have gained by long study and research, for the mere wild -joy of an hour! Lilith, Lilith! Child, woman, angel!--whatever you -are, have pity upon me! I dare not love you! ... I dare not!” - -So murmuring incoherently, he rose, and, walking dizzily like a man -abruptly startled from deep sleep, he went straight out of the room, -never looking back once, else he might have seen how divinely, how -victoriously Lilith smiled! - - - - - XXVII. - -Reaching his study, he shut himself in and locked the door,--and, -then sitting down, buried his head in his hands and fell to thinking. -Such odd thoughts too!--they came unbidden, and chased one another in -and out of his brain like will-o’-the-wisps in a wilderness. It was -growing late, and Féraz had not yet returned,--but he heeded not the -hour, or his brother’s continued absence,--he was occupied in such a -mental battle with his own inward forces as made him utterly -indifferent to external things. The question he chiefly asked himself -was this:--Of what use was all the science he had discovered and -mastered, if he was not exempt,--utterly exempt from the emotions -common to the most ignorant of men? His pride had been that he was -“above” human nature,--that he was able to look down upon its trivial -joys and sorrows with a supreme and satiric scorn,--that he knew its -ways so well as to be able to calculate its various hesitating moves -in all directions, social and political, with very nearly exact -accuracy. Why then was he shaken to the very centre of his being -to-night, by the haunting vision of an angelic face and the echo of a -sweet faint voice softly breathing the words--“My belovëd!” He could -dominate others; why could he not dominate himself? - -“This will never do!” he said aloud at last, starting up from his -brooding attitude--“I must read--I must work,--I must, at all costs, -get out of this absurd frame of mind into which I have unwittingly -fallen. Besides, how often have I not assured myself that for all -practical earthly considerations Lilith is dead--positively dead!” - -And to reinstate himself in this idea he unlocked his desk and took -from it a small parchment volume in which he had carefully chronicled -the whole account of his experiment on Lilith from the beginning. One -page was written in the form of a journal--the opposite leaf being -reserved for “queries,” and the book bore the curious superscription -“In Search of the Soul of Lilith” on its cover. The statement began at -once without preamble, thus: - - “_August_ 8, 18--. 9 P.M.--Lilith, an Arab girl, aged twelve, dies in - my arms. Cause of death, fever and inanition. Heart ceased to beat at - ten minutes past eight this evening. While the blood is still warm in - the corpse I inject the ‘Electro-flamma’ under the veins, close - beneath the heart. No immediate effect visible. - - “11 P.M.--Arab women lay out Lilith’s corpse for burial. Questioned - the people as to her origin. An orphan child, of poor parentage, no - education, and unquiet disposition. Not instructed in religious - matters, but following the religious customs of others by instinct and - imitation. Distinctive features of the girl when in - health--restlessness, temper, animalism, and dislike of restraint. - Troublesome to manage, and not a thinking child by any means. - - “_August_ 9. 5 A.M.--The caravan has just started on its way, leaving - the corpse of Lilith with me. The woman Zaroba remains behind. Féraz - I sent away last night in haste. I tell Zaroba part of my intention; - she is superstitious and afraid of me, but willing to serve me. Lilith - remains inanimate. I again use the ‘Electro-flamma,’ this time close - to all the chief arteries. No sign of life. - - “_August_ 10. Noon.--I begin rather to despair. As a last resource I - have injected carefully a few drops of ‘Flamma’ close to the brain; it - is the mainspring of the whole machine, and if it can be set in - motion---- - - “Midnight.--Victory! The brain has commenced to pulsate feebly, and - the heart with it. Breathing has begun, but slowly and with - difficulty. A faint colour has come into the hitherto waxen face. - Success is possible now. - - “_August_ 15.--During these last five days Lilith has breathed, and, - to a certain extent, lived. She does not open her eyes, nor move a - muscle of her body, and at times still appears dead. She is kept alive - (if it _is_ life) by the vital fluid, and by that only. I must give - her more time. - - “_August_ 20.--I have called her by name, and she has answered--but - how strangely! Where does she learn the things she speaks of? She sees - the Earth, she tells me, like a round ball circling redly in a cloud - of vapours, and she hears music everywhere, and perceives a ‘light - beyond.’ _Where and how does she perceive anything?_” - -Here on the opposite side of the page was written the “query,” which -in this case was headed - - “Problem.” - - “Given, a child’s brain, not wholly developed in its intellectual - capacity, with no impressions save those which are purely material, - and place that brain in a state of perpetual trance, _how does it come - to imagine or comprehend things which science cannot prove?_ Is it the - Soul which conveys these impressions, and, if so, _what_ is the Soul, - and _where_ is it?” - -El-Râmi read the passage over and over again, then, sighing -impatiently, closed the book and put it by. - -“Since I wrote that, what has she not said--what has she not told me!” -he muttered; “and the ‘child’s brain’ is a child’s brain no longer, -but a woman’s, while she has obtained absolutely no knowledge of any -sort by external means. Yet she--she who was described by those who -knew her in her former life as ‘not a thinking child, troublesome and -difficult to manage,’ she it is who describes to me the scenery and -civilisation of Mars, the inhabitants of Sirius, the wonders of a -myriad of worlds; she it is who talks of the ravishing beauty of -things Divine and immortal, of the glory of the heavens, of the -destined fate of the world. God knows it is very strange!--and the -problem I wrote out six years ago is hardly nearer solving than it was -then. If I could _believe_--but then I cannot--I must always doubt, -and shall not doubt lead to discovery?” - -Thus arguing with himself, and scoffing interiorly at the suggestion -which just then came unbidden to his mind--“_Blessed are they which -have not seen and yet believed_”--he turned over some more papers and -sorted them, with the intention and hope of detaching his thoughts -entirely from what had suddenly become the too-enthralling subject of -Lilith’s beauteous personality. Presently he came upon a memorandum, -over which he nodded and smiled with a sort of grim satirical content, -entitled, “The Passions of the Human Animal as Nature made Him;” it -was only a scrap--a hint of some idea which he had intended to make -use of in literary work, but he read it over now with a good deal of -curious satisfaction. It ran thus: - - “Man, as a purely natural creature, fairly educated, but wholly - unspiritualised, is a mental composition of: Hunger, Curiosity, - Self-Esteem, Avarice, Cowardice, Lust, Cruelty, Personal Ambition; and - on these vile qualities alone our ‘society’ hangs together; the - virtues have no place anywhere, and do not count at all, save as - conveniently pious metaphors.” - -“It is true!” he said aloud--“as true as the very light of the skies! -Now am I, or have I ever been, guilty of these common vices of -ordinary nature? No, no; I have examined my own conscience too often -and too carefully. I have been accused of personal ambition, but even -that is a false accusation, for I do not seek vulgar rewards, or the -noise of notoriety ringing about my name. All that I am seeking to -discover is meant for the benefit of the world; that Humanity,--poor, -wretched, vicious Humanity--may know positively and finally that there -_is_ a Future. For till they _do_ know it, beyond all manner of doubt, -why should they strive to be better? Why should they seek to quell -their animalism? Why should they need to be any better than they are? -And why, above all things, should they be exhorted by their preachers -and teachers to fasten their faith to a Myth, and anchor their hopes -on a Dream?” - -At that moment a loud and prolonged rat-tat-tatting at the street door -startled him,--he hastily thrust all his loose manuscripts into a -drawer, and went to answer the summons, glancing at the clock as he -passed it with an air of complete bewilderment,--for it was close upon -two A.M., and he could not imagine how the time had flown. He had -scarcely set foot across the hall before another furious knocking -began, and he stopped abruptly to listen to the imperative clatter -with a curious wondering expression on his dark handsome face. When -the noise ceased again, he began slowly to undo the door. - -“Patience, my dear boy,” he said as he flung it open--“is a virtue, as -you must have seen it set forth in copy-books. I provided you with a -latch-key--where is it?--there could not be a more timely hour for its -usage.” - -But while he spoke, Féraz, for it was he, had sprung in swiftly like -some wild animal pursued by hunters, and he now stood in the hall, -nearly breathless, staring confusedly at his brother with big, -feverishly-bright bewildered eyes. - -“Then I have escaped!” he said in a half-whisper--“I am at -home,--really at home again!” - -El-Râmi looked at him steadily,--then, turning away quietly, -carefully shut and bolted the door. - -“Have you spent a happy day, Féraz?” he gently inquired. - -“Happy!” echoed Féraz--“Happy? Yes. No! Good God!--what do you mean -by happiness?” - -El-Râmi looked at him again, and, making no reply to this adjuration, -simply turned about and went into his study. Féraz followed. - -“I know what you think,” he said in pained accents--“You think I’ve -been drinking--so I have. But I’m not drunk, for all that. They gave -me wine--bad burgundy--detestable champagne--the sun never shone on -the grapes that made it,--and I took very little of it. It is not that -which has filled me with a terror too real to deserve your scorn,--it -is not that which has driven me home here to you for help and -shelter----” - -“It is somewhat late to be ‘driven’ home,” remarked El-Râmi with a -slightly sarcastic smile--“Two in the morning, and--bad champagne or -good,--you are talking, my dear Féraz, to say the least of it, rather -wildly.” - -“For God’s sake do not sneer at me!” cried Féraz passionately--“I -shall go mad if you do! Is it as late as you say?--I never knew it. I -fled from them at midnight;--I have wandered about alone under the -stars since then.” - -At these words, El-Râmi’s expression changed from satire to -compassion. His fine eyes softened, and their lustrous light grew -deeper and more tender. - -“Alone--and under the stars?” he repeated softly--“Are not the two -things incompatible--to _you_? Have you not made the stars your -companions--almost your friends?” - -“No, no!” said Féraz, with a swift gesture of utter hopelessness. -“Not now--not now! for all is changed. I see life as it is--hideous, -foul, corruptible, cruel! and the once bright planets look pitiless; -the heavens I thought so gloriously designed are but an impenetrable -vault arched over an ever-filling grave. There is no light, no hope -anywhere; how can there be in the face of so much sin? El-Râmi, why -did you not tell me? why did you not warn me of the accursed evil of -this pulsating movement men call Life? For it seems _I_ have not -lived, I have only dreamed!” - -And with a heavy sigh, that seemed wrung from his very heart, he threw -himself wearily into a chair, and buried his head between his hands in -an attitude of utter dejection. - -El-Râmi looked at him as he sat thus, with a certain shadow of -melancholy on his own fine features, then he spoke gently: - -“Who told you, Féraz, that you have not lived?” he asked. - -“Zaroba did, first of all,” returned Féraz reluctantly; “and now he, -the artist Ainsworth, says the same thing. It seems that to men of the -world I look a fool. I know nothing; I am as ignorant as a -barbarian----” - -“Of what?” queried his brother. “Of wine, loose women, the race-course -and the gaming-table? Yes, I grant you, you are ignorant of these, and -you may thank God for your ignorance. And these wise ‘men of the -world’ who are so superior to you--in what does their wisdom consist?” - -Féraz sat silent, wrapt in meditation. Presently he looked up; his -lashes were wet, and his lips trembled. - -“I wish,” he murmured, “I wish I had never gone there,--I wish I had -been content to stay with you.” - -El-Râmi laughed a little, but it was to hide a very different -emotion. - -“My dear fellow,” he said lightly, “I am not an old woman that I -should wish you to be tied to my apron-strings. Come, make a clean -breast of it; if not the champagne, what is it that has so seriously -disagreed with you?” - -“Everything!” replied Féraz emphatically. “The whole day has been one -of discord--what wonder then that I myself am out of tune! When I -first started off from the house this morning, I was full of curious -anticipation--I looked upon this invitation to an artist’s studio as a -sort of break in what I chose to call the even monotony of my -existence,--I fancied I should imbibe new ideas, and be able to -understand something of the artistic world of London if I spent the -day with a man truly distinguished in his profession. When I arrived -at the studio, Mr. Ainsworth was already at work--he was painting--a -woman.” - -“Well?” said El-Râmi, seeing that Féraz paused, and stammered -hesitatingly. - -“She was nude,--this woman,” he went on in a low shamed voice, a hot -flush creeping over his delicate boyish face,--“A creature without any -modesty or self-respect. A model, Mr. Ainsworth called her,--and it -seems that she took his money for showing herself thus. Her body was -beautiful; like a statue flushed with life,--but she was a devil, -El-Râmi!--the foulness of her spirit was reflected in her bold -eyes--the coarseness of her mind found echo in her voice,--and I--I -sickened at the sight of her; I had never believed in the existence of -fiends,--but _she_ was one!” - -El-Râmi was silent, and Féraz resumed-- - -“As I tell you, Ainsworth was painting her, and he asked me to sit -beside him and watch his work. His request surprised me,--I said to -him in a whisper, ‘Surely she will resent the presence of a stranger?’ -He stared at me. ‘She? Whom do you mean?’ he inquired. ‘The woman -there,’ I answered. He burst out laughing, called me ‘an innocent,’ -and said she was perfectly accustomed to ‘pose’ before twenty men at a -time, so that I need have no scruples on that score. So I sat down as -he bade me, and watched in silence, and thought----” - -“Ah, what did you think?” asked El-Râmi. - -“I thought evil things,” answered Féraz deliberately. “And, while -thinking them, I knew they were evil. And I put my own nature under a -sort of analysis, and came to the conclusion that, when a man does -wrong, he is perfectly aware that it _is_ wrong, and that, therefore, -doing wrong deliberately and consciously, he has no right to seek -forgiveness, either through Christ or any other intermediary. He -should be willing to bear the brunt of it, and his prayers should be -for punishment, not for pardon.” - -“A severe doctrine,” observed El-Râmi. “Strangely so, for a young man -who has not ‘lived,’ but only ‘dreamed.’” - -“In my dreams I see nothing evil,” said Féraz, “and I think nothing -evil. All is harmonious; all works in sweet accordance with a Divine -and Infinite plan, of whose ultimate perfection I am sure. I would -rather dream so, than live as I have lived to-day.” - -El-Râmi forbore to press him with any questions, and, after a little -pause, he went on: - -“When that woman--the model--went away from the studio, I was as -thankful as one might be for the removal of a plague. She dropped a -curtain over her bare limbs and disappeared like some vanishing evil -spirit. Then Ainsworth asked me to sit to him. I obeyed willingly. He -placed me in a half-sitting, half-recumbent attitude, and began to -sketch. Suddenly, after about half an hour, it occurred to me that he -perhaps wanted to put me in the same picture with that fiend who had -gone, and I asked him the question point-blank. ‘Why, certainly!’ he -said. ‘You will appear as the infatuated lover of that lady, in my -great Academy work.’ Then, El-Râmi, some suppressed rage in me broke -loose. I sprang up and confronted him angrily. ‘Never!’ I cried. ‘You -shall never picture me thus! If you dared to do it, I would rip your -canvas to shreds on the very walls of the Academy itself! I am no -“model,” to sell my personality to you for gold!’ He laughed in that -lazy, unmirthful way of his. ‘No,’ he said, ‘you are certainly not a -model, you are a tiger--a young tiger--quite furious and untamed. I -wish you _would_ go and rip up my picture on the Academy walls, as you -say; it would make my fortune; I should have so many orders for -duplicates. My dear fellow, if you won’t let me put you into my -canvas, you are no use to me. I want your meditative face for the face -of a poet destroyed by a passion for Phryne. I really think you might -oblige me.’ ‘Never!’ I said; ‘the thing would be a libel and a lie. My -face is not the face you want. You want a weak face, a round foolish -brow, and a receding chin. Why, as God made me, and as I am, every one -of my features would falsify your picture’s story! The man who -voluntarily sacrifices his genius and his hopes of heaven to vulgar -vice and passion must have weakness in him somewhere, and as a true -artist you are bound to show that weakness in the features you -portray.’ ‘And have you no weakness, you young savage?’ he asked. ‘Not -that weakness!’ I said. ‘The wretched incapacity of will that brings -the whole soul down to a grovelling depth of materialism--that is not -in me!’ I spoke angrily, El-Râmi, perhaps violently; but I could not -help myself. He stared at me curiously, and began drawing lines on his -palette with his brush dipped in colour. ‘You are a very singular -young fellow,’ he said at last. ‘But I must tell you that it was the -fair Irene Vassilius who suggested to me that your face would be -suitable for that of the poet in my picture. I wanted to please -her----’ ‘You will please her more by telling her what I say,’ I -interrupted him abruptly. ‘Tell her----’ ‘That you are a new -Parsifal,’ he said mockingly. ‘Ah, she will never believe it! All men -in her opinion are either brutes or cowards.’ Then he took up a fresh -square of canvas, and added: ‘Well, I promise you I will not put you -in my picture, as you have such a rooted objection to figuring in -public as a slave of Phryne, though, I assure you, most young fellows -would be proud of such a distinction; for one is hardly considered a -“man” nowadays unless one professes to be “in love”--God save the -mark!--with some female beast of the stage or the music-hall. Such is -life, my boy! There! now sit still with that look of supreme scorn on -your countenance, and that will do excellently.’ ‘On your word of -honour, you will not place me in your picture?’ I said. ‘On my word of -honour,’ he replied. So, of course, I could not doubt him. And he drew -my features on his canvas quickly, and with much more than ordinary -skill; and, when he had finished his sketch, he took me out to lunch -with him at a noisy, crowded place, called the ‘Criterion.’ There were -numbers of men and women there, eating and drinking, all of a low -type, I thought, and some of them of a most vulgar and insolent -bearing, more like dressed-up monkeys than human beings, I told -Ainsworth; but he laughed, and said they were very fair specimens of -civilised society. Then, after lunch, we went to a club, where several -men were smoking and throwing cards about. They asked me to play, and -I told them I knew nothing of the game. Whereupon they explained it; -and I said it seemed to me to be quite an imbecile method of losing -money. Then they laughed uproariously. One said I was ‘very fresh,’ -whatever that might mean. Another asked Ainsworth what he had brought -me there for, and Ainsworth answered: ‘To show you one of the greatest -wonders of the century--a really _young_ man in his youth,’ and then -they laughed again. Later on he took me into the Park. There I saw -Madame Vassilius in her carriage. She looked fair and cold, and proud -and weary all at once. Her horses came to a standstill under the -trees, and Ainsworth went up and spoke to her. She looked at me very -earnestly as she gave me her hand, and only said one thing: ‘What a -pity you are not with your brother!’ I longed to ask her why, but she -seemed unwilling to converse, and soon gave the signal to her coachman -to drive on--in fact, she went at once out of the Park. Then Ainsworth -got angry and sullen, and said: ‘I hate intellectual women! That -pretty scribbler has made so much money that she is perfectly -independent of man’s help--and, being independent, she is insolent.’ I -was surprised at his tone. I said I could not see where he perceived -the insolence. ‘Can you not?’ he asked. ‘She studies men instead of -loving them; that is where she is insolent--and--insufferable!’ He was -so irritated that I did not pursue the subject, and he then pressed me -to stay and dine with him. I accepted--and I am sorry I did.” - -“Why?” asked El-Râmi in purposely indifferent tones. “At present, so -far as you have told me, your day seems to have passed in a very -harmless manner. A peep at a model, a lunch at the Criterion, a glance -at a gaming-club, a stroll in the Park--what could be more ordinary? -There is no tragedy in it, such as you seem inclined to imagine; it is -all the merest bathos.” - -Féraz looked up indignantly, his eyes sparkling. - -“Is there nothing tragic in the horrible, stifling, strangling -consciousness of evil surrounding one like a plague?” he demanded -passionately. “To know and to feel that God is far off, instead of -near; that one is shut up in a prison of one’s own making, where sweet -air and pure light cannot penetrate; to be perfectly conscious that -one is moving and speaking with difficulty and agitation in a thick, -choking atmosphere of lies--lies--all lies! Is that not tragic? Is -that all bathos?” - -“My dear fellow, it is life!” said El-Râmi sedately. “It is what you -wanted to see, to know, and to understand.” - -“It is _not_ life!” declared Féraz hotly. “The people who accept it -as such are fools, and delude themselves. Life, as God gave it to us, -is beautiful and noble--grandly suggestive of the Future beyond; but -you will not tell me there is anything beautiful or noble or -suggestive in the life led by such men and women as I saw to-day. With -the exception of Madame Vassilius--and she, I am told, is considered -eccentric and a ‘visionary’--I have seen no one who would be worth -talking to for an hour. At Ainsworth’s dinner, for instance, there -were some men who called themselves artists, and they talked, not of -art, but of money; how much they could get, and how much they _would_ -get from certain patrons of theirs whom they called ‘full-pursed -fools.’ Well, and that woman--that model I told you of--actually came -to dine at Ainsworth’s table, and other coarse women like her. Surely, -El-Râmi, you can imagine what their conversation was like? And as the -time went on things became worse. There was no restraint, and at last -I could stand it no longer. I rose up from the table, and left the -room without a word. Ainsworth followed me; he was flushed with wine, -and he looked foolish. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘Mamie -Dillon,’ that was the name of his model, ‘wants to talk to you.’ I -made him no answer. ‘Where are you going?’ he repeated angrily. ‘Home, -of course,’ I replied, ‘I have stayed here too long as it is. Let me -pass.’ He was excited; he had taken too much wine, I know, and he -scarcely knew what he was saying. ‘Oh, I understand you!’ he -exclaimed. ‘You and Irene Vassilius are of a piece--all purity, eh! -all disgust at the manners and customs of the “lower animals.” Well, I -tell you we are no worse than any one else in modern days. My lord the -duke’s conversation differs very little from that of his groom; and -the latest imported American heiress in search of a title rattles on -to the full as volubly and ruthlessly as Mamie Dillon. Go home, if go -you must; and take my advice, if you don’t like what you have seen in -the world to-day, _stay_ home for good. Stay in your shell, and dream -your dreams; I dare say they will profit you quite as much as our -realities!’ He laughed, and as I left him I said, ‘You mistake! it is -you who are “dreaming,” as you call it; dreaming a bad dream, too; it -is I who _live_.’ Then I went out of the house, as I tell you, and -wandered alone, under the stars, and thought bitter things.” - -“Why ‘bitter’?” asked El-Râmi. - -“I do not know,” returned Féraz moodily, “except that all the world -seemed wrong. I wondered how God could endure so much degradation on -the face of one of His planets, without some grand, divine protest.” - -“The protest is always there,” said El-Râmi quickly. “Silent, but -eternal, in the existence of Good in the midst of Evil.” - -Féraz lifted his eyes and rested their gaze on his brother with an -expression of unutterable affection. - -“El-Râmi, keep me with you!” he entreated; “never let me leave you -again! I think I must be crazed if the world is what it _seems_, and -my life is so entirely opposed to it; but, if so, I would rather be -crazed than sane. In my wanderings to-night, on my way home hither, I -met young girls and women who must have been devils in disguise, so -utterly were they lost to every sense of womanhood and decency. I saw -men, evil-looking and wretched, who seemed waiting but the chance to -murder, or commit any other barbarous crime for gold. I saw little -children, starving and in rags; old and feeble creatures, too, in the -last stage of destitution, without a passer-by to wish them well; all -things seemed foul and dark and hopeless, and when I entered here I -felt--ah, God knows what I felt!--that you were my Providence, that -this was my home, and that surely some Angel dwelt within and hallowed -it with safety and pure blessing!” - -A sudden remorse softened his voice, his beautiful eyes were dim with -tears. - -“He remembers and thinks of Lilith!” thought El-Râmi quickly, with a -singular jealous tightening emotion at his heart; but aloud he said -gently: - -“If one day in the ‘world’ has taught you to love this simple abode of -ours, my dear Féraz, more than you did before, you have had a most -valuable lesson. But do not be too sure of yourself. Remember, you -resented my authority, and you wished to escape from my influence. -Well, now----” - -“Now I voluntarily place myself under both,” said Féraz rising and -standing before him with bent head. “El-Râmi, my brother and my -friend, do with me as you will! If from you come my dreams, in God’s -name let me dream! If from your potent will, exerted on my spirit, -springs the fountain of the music which haunts my life, let me ever be -a servant of that will! With you I have had happiness, health, peace, -and mysterious joy, such as the world could never comprehend; away -from you, though only for a day, I have been miserable. Take my -complete obedience, El-Râmi, for what it is worth; you give me more -than my life’s submission can ever repay.” - -El-Râmi stepped up more closely to him, and, laying both hands on his -shoulders, looked him seriously in the eyes. - -“My dear boy, consider for a moment how you involve yourself,” he said -earnestly, yet with great kindliness. “Remember the old Arabic volume -you chanced upon, and what it said concerning the mystic powers of -‘influence.’ Did you quite realise it, and all that it implies?” - -Féraz met his searching gaze steadily. - -“Quite,” he replied. “So much and so plainly do I realise it that I -even attribute everything done in the world to ‘influence.’ Each one -of us is ‘influenced’ by something or some one. Even you, my dearest -brother, share the common lot, though I dare say you do not quite -perceive where your ruling force is generated, your own powers being -so extraordinary. Ainsworth, for example, is ‘influenced’ in very -opposite directions by very opposite forces--Irene Vassilius, and--his -Mamie Dillon! Now I would rather have _your_ spell laid upon my life -than that of the speculator, the gambler, the drinker, or the vile -woman, for none of these can possibly give satisfaction, at least not -to me; while your wizard wand invokes nothing but beauty, harmony, and -peace of conscience. So I repeat it, El-Râmi, I submit to you utterly -and finally--must I entreat you to accept my submission?” - -He smiled, and the old happy look that he was wont to wear began to -radiate over his face, which had till then seemed worn and wearied. -El-Râmi’s dark features appeared to reflect the smile, as he gently -touched his brother’s clustering curls, and said playfully: - -“In spite of Zaroba?” - -“In spite of Zaroba,” echoed Féraz mirthfully. “Poor Zaroba! she does -not seem well, or happy. I fear she has offended you?” - -“No, no,” said El-Râmi meditatively, “she has not offended me; she is -too old to offend me. I cannot be angry with sorrowful and helpless -age. And, if she is not well, we will make her well, and if she is not -happy we will make her happy, ... and be happy ourselves--shall it not -be so?” His voice was very soft, and he seemed to talk at random, and -to be conscious of it, for he roused himself with a slight start, and -said in firmer tones: “Good-night, Féraz; good-night, dear lad. Rest, -and dream!” - -He smiled as Féraz impulsively caught his hand and kissed it, and -after the young man had left the room he still stood, lost in a -reverie, murmuring under his breath: “And be happy ourselves! Is that -possible--could that be possible--in _this_ world?” - - - - - XXVIII. - -Next day towards noon, while Féraz, tired with his brief “worldly” -experiences, was still sleeping. El-Râmi sought out Zaroba. She -received him in the ante-room of the chamber of Lilith with more than -her customary humility; her face was dark and weary, and her whole -aspect one of resigned and settled melancholy. El-Râmi looked at her -kindly, and with compassion. - -“The sustaining of wrath is an injury to the spirit,” he wrote on the -slate which served for that purpose in his usual way of communication -with her; “I no longer mistrust you. Once more I say, be faithful and -obedient. I ask no more. The spell of silence shall be lifted from -your lips to-day.” - -She read swiftly, and with apparent incredulity, and a tremor passed -over her tall, gaunt frame. She looked at him wonderingly and -wistfully, while he, standing before her, returned the look -steadfastly, and seemed to be concentrating all his thoughts upon her -with some fixed intention. After a minute or two he turned aside, and -again wrote on the slate; this time the words ran thus: - - “Speak; you are at liberty.” - -With a deep shuddering sigh, she extended her hands appealingly. - -“Master!” she exclaimed; and, before he could prevent her, she had -dropped on her knees. “Forgive--forgive!” she muttered. “Terrible is -thy power, O El-Râmi, ruler of spirits! terrible, mystic, and -wonderful! God must have given thee thy force, and I am but the -meanest of slaves to rebel against thy command. Yet out of wisdom -comes not happiness, but great grief and pain; and as I live, -El-Râmi, in my rebellion I but dreamed of a love that should bring -thee joy! Pardon the excess of my zeal, for lo, again and yet again I -swear fidelity! and may all the curses of heaven fall on me if this -time I break my vow!” - -She bent her head--she would have kissed the floor at his feet, but -that he quickly raised her up and prevented her. - -“There is nothing more to pardon,” he wrote. “Your wisdom is possibly -greater than mine. I know there is nothing stronger than Love, nothing -better perhaps; but Love is my foe whom I must vanquish,--lest he -should vanquish me!” - -And while Zaroba yet pored over these words, her black eyes dilating -with amazement at the half confession of weakness implied in them, he -turned away and left the room. - -That afternoon a pleasant sense of peace and restfulness seemed to -settle upon the little household; delicious strains of melody filled -the air; Féraz, refreshed in mind and body by a sound sleep, was -seated at the piano, improvising strange melodies in his own -exquisitely wild and tender fashion; while El-Râmi, seated at his -writing-table, indited a long letter to Dr. Kremlin at Ilfracombe, -giving in full the message left for him by the mysterious monk from -Cyprus respecting the “Third Ray” or signal from Mars. - -“Do not weary yourself too much with watching this phenomenon,” he -wrote to his friend. “From all accounts, it will be a difficult matter -to track so rapid a flash on the Disc as the one indicated, and I have -fears for your safety. I cannot give any satisfactory cause for my -premonition of danger to you in the attempt, because, if we do not -admit an end to anything, then there can be no danger even in death -itself, which we are accustomed to look upon as an ‘end,’ when it may -be _proved_ to be only a beginning. But, putting aside the idea of -‘danger’ or ‘death,’ the premonition remains in my mind as one of -‘change’ for you; and perhaps you are not ready or willing even to -accept a different sphere of action from your present one, therefore I -would say, take heed to yourself when you follow the track of the -‘Third Ray.’” - -Here his pen stopped abruptly; Féraz was singing in a soft -mezza-voce, and he listened: - - O Sweet, if love obtained must slay desire, - And quench the light and heat of passion’s fire; - If you are weary of the ways of love, - And fain would end the many cares thereof, - I prithee tell me so that I may seek - Some place to die in ere I grow too weak - To look my last on your belovèd face. - Yea, tell me all! The gods may yet have grace - And pity enough to let me quickly die - Some brief while after we have said ‘Good-bye!’ - - Nay, I have known it well for many days - You have grown tired of all tender ways; - Love’s kisses weary you, love’s eager words, - Old as the hills and sweet as singing-birds, - Are fetters hard to bear! O love, be free! - You will lose little joy in losing me; - Let me depart, remembering only this, - That once you loved me, and that once your kiss - Crown’d me with joy supreme enough to last - Through all my life till that brief life be past. - - Forget me, Sweetest-heart, and nevermore - Turn to look back on what has gone before, - Or say, ‘Such love was brief, but wondrous fair; - The past is past for ever; have no care - Or thought for me at all, no tear or sigh, - Or faint regret; for, Dearest, I shall die - And dream of you i’ the dark, beneath the grass; - And o’er my head perchance your feet may pass, - Lulling me faster into sleep profound - Among the fairies of the fruitful ground. - Love, wearied out by love, hath need of rest. - And, when all love is ended, Death is best. - -The song ceased; but, though the singer’s voice no longer charmed the -silence, his fingers still wandered over the keys of the piano, -devising intricate passages of melody as delicate and devious as the -warbling of nightingales. El-Râmi, unconsciously to himself, heaved a -deep sigh, and Féraz, hearing it, looked round. - -“Am I disturbing you?” he asked. - -“No. I love to hear you; but, like many youthful poets, you sing of -what you scarcely understand--love, for instance; you know nothing of -love.” - -“I imagine I do,” replied Féraz meditatively. “I can picture my ideal -woman; she is----” - -“Fair, of course!” said El-Râmi, with an indulgent smile. - -“Yes, fair; her hair must be golden, but not uniformly so--full of -lights and shadows, suggestive of some halo woven round her brows by -the sunlight, or the caressing touch of an angel. She must have deep, -sweet eyes in which no actual colour is predominant; for a pronounced -blue or black does away with warmth of expression. She must not be -tall, for one cannot caress tall women without a sense of the -ludicrous spoiling sentiment----” - -“Have you tried it?” asked El-Râmi, laughing. - -Féraz laughed too. - -“You know I have not; I only imagine the situation. To explain more -fully what I mean, I would say one could more readily draw into one’s -arms the Venus of Medicis than that of Milo--one could venture to -caress a Psyche, but scarcely a Juno. I have never liked the idea of -tall women; they are like big handsome birds--useful, no doubt, but -not half so sweet as the little fluttering singing ones.” - -“Well, and what other attributes must this imagined lady of yours -possess?” asked El-Râmi, vaguely amused at his brother’s earnestness. - -“Oh, many more charms than I could enumerate,” replied Féraz. “And of -one thing I am certain, she is not to be found on this earth. But I am -quite satisfied to wait; I shall find her, even as she will find me -some day. Meanwhile I ‘imagine’ love, and in imagination I almost feel -it.” - -He went on playing, and El-Râmi resumed the writing of his letter to -Kremlin, which he soon finished and addressed ready for post. A gentle -knock at the street door made itself heard just then through the ebb -and flow of Féraz’s music, and Féraz left off his improvisation -abruptly and went to answer the summons. He returned, and announced -with some little excitement: - -“Madame Irene Vassilius.” - -El-Râmi rose and advanced to meet his fair visitor, bowing -courteously. - -“This is an unexpected pleasure, Madame,” he said, the sincerity of -his welcome showing itself in the expression of his face, “and an -unmerited honour for which I am grateful.” - -She smiled, allowing her hand to rest in his for a moment; then, -accepting the low chair which Féraz placed for her near his brother’s -writing-table, she seated herself, and lifted her eyes to El-Râmi’s -countenance--eyes which, like those of Féraz’s “ideal ladye-love,” -were “deep and sweet, and of no pronounced colour.” - -“I felt you would not resent my coming here as an intrusion,” she -began; “but my visit is not one of curiosity. I do not want to probe -you as to your knowledge of my past, or to ask you anything as to my -future. I am a lonely creature, disliked by many people, and in the -literary career I have adopted I fight a desperately hard battle, and -often crave for a little--just a little sympathetic comprehension. One -or two questions puzzle me which you might answer if you would. They -are on almost general subjects; but I should like to have your -opinion.” - -“Madame, if you, with your exceptional gifts of insight and instinct, -are baffled in these ‘general’ questions,” said El-Râmi, “shall not I -be baffled also?” - -“That does not follow,” replied Irene, returning his glance steadily, -“for you men always claim to be wiser than women. I do not agree with -this fiat, so absolutely set forth by the lords of creation; yet I am -not what is termed ‘strong-minded,’ I simply seek justice. Pray stay -with us,” she added, turning to Féraz, who was about to retire, as he -usually did whenever El-Râmi held an interview with any visitor; -“there is no occasion for you to go away.” - -Féraz hesitated, glancing at his brother. - -“Yes, by all means remain here, Féraz,” said El-Râmi gently, “since -Madame Vassilius desires it.” - -Delighted with the permission, Féraz ensconced himself in a corner -with a book, pretending to read, but in reality listening to every -word of the conversation. He liked to hear Irene’s voice--it was -singularly sweet and ringing, and at times had a peculiar thrill of -pathos in it that went straight to the heart. - -“You know,” she went on, “that I am, or am supposed to be, what the -world calls ‘famous.’ That is, I write books which the public clamour -for and read, and for which I receive large sums of money. I am able -to live well, dress well, and look well, and I am known as one of -society’s ‘celebrities.’ Well, now, can you tell me why, for such poor -honours as these, men, supposed to be our wiser and stronger -superiors, are so spitefully jealous of a woman’s fame?” - -“Jealous?” echoed El-Râmi dubiously, and with something of -hesitation. “You mean----” - -“I mean what I say,” continued Madame Vassilius calmly; “neither more -nor less. Spitefully jealous is the term I used. Explain to me this -riddle: Why do men encourage women to every sort of base folly and -vanity that may lead them at length to become the slaves of man’s lust -and cruelty, and yet take every possible means to oppose and hinder -them in their attempts to escape from sensuality and animalism into -intellectual progress and pre-eminence? In looking back on the history -of all famous women, from Sappho downwards to the present time, it is -amazing to consider what men have said of them. Always a sneer at -‘women’s work.’ And, if praise is at any time given, how grudging and -half-hearted it is! Men will enter no protest against women who -uncover their bare limbs to the public gaze and dance lewdly in -music-halls and theatres for the masculine delectation; they will -defend the street prostitute; they will pledge themselves and their -family estates in order to provide jewels for the newest ‘ballerina’; -but for the woman of intellect they have nothing but a shrug of -contempt. If she produces a great work of art in literature, it is -never thoroughly acknowledged; and the hard blows delivered on -Charlotte Bronté, George Eliot, Georges Sand, and others of their -calibre, far outweighed their laurels. George Eliot and Georges Sand -took men’s names in order to shelter themselves a little from the -pitiless storm that assails literary work known to emanate from a -woman’s brain; but let a man write the veriest trash that ever was -printed, he will still be accredited by his own sex with something -better than ever the cleverest woman could compass. How is it that the -‘superior’ sex are cowardly enough to throw stones at those among the -‘inferior,’ who surpass their so-called lords and masters both in -chastity and intellect?” - -She spoke earnestly, her eyes shining with emotion; she looked lovely, -thus inspired by the strength of her inward feelings. El-Râmi was -taken aback. Like most Orientals, he had to a certain extent despised -women and their work. But, then, what of Lilith? Without her aid would -his discoveries in spiritual science have progressed so far? Had he or -any man a right to call woman the “inferior” sex? - -“Madame,” he said slowly and with a vague embarrassment, “you bring an -accusation against our sex which it is impossible to refute, because -it is simply and undeniably true. Men do not love either chastity or -intellect in women.” - -He paused, looking at her, then went on: - -“A chaste woman is an embodied defiance and reproach to man; an -intellectual woman is always a source of irritation, because she is -invariably his superior. By this I mean that when a woman is -thoroughly gifted she is gifted all round; an intellectual man is -generally only gifted in one direction. For example, a great poet, -painter, or musician, may be admirable in his own line, but he -generally lacks in something; he is stupid, perhaps, in conversation, -or he blunders in some way by want of tact; but a truly brilliant -woman has all the charms of mental superiority, generally combined -with delicate touches of satire, humour, and wit,--points which she -uses to perfection against the lumbering animal Man, with the result -that she succeeds in pricking him in all his most vulnerable parts. He -detests her accordingly, and flies for consolation to the empty-headed -dolls of the music-hall, who flatter him to the top of his bent, in -order to get as much champagne and as many diamonds as they can out of -him. Man must be adored; he insists upon it, even if he pays for it!” - -“It is a pity he does not make himself a little more worthy of -adoration,” said Irene, with a slight scornful smile. - -“It is,” agreed El-Râmi; “but most men, even the ugliest and -stupidest, consider themselves perfect.” - -“Do you?” she asked suddenly. - -“Do I consider myself perfect?” El-Râmi smiled and reflected on this -point. “Madame, if I am frank with you, and with myself, I must answer -‘Yes!’ I am made of the same clay as all my sex, and consider myself -worthy to be the conqueror of any woman under the sun! Ask any -loathsome, crooked-backed dwarf that sweeps a crossing for his -livelihood, and his idea of his own personal charm will be the same.” - -Féraz laughed outright; Madame Vassilius looked amused and -interested. - -“You can never eradicate from the masculine nature,” proceeded -El-Râmi, “the idea that our attentions, no matter how uncouth, are, -and always must be, agreeable to the feminine temperament. Here you -have the whole secret of the battle carried on by men against women -who have won the prize of a world-wide fame. An intellectual woman -sets a barrier between herself and the beasts; the beasts howl, but -cannot leap it; hence their rage. You, Madame, are not only -intellectual, but lovely to look at; you stand apart, a crowned queen, -seeking no assistance from men; by your very manner you imply your -scorn of their low and base desires. They _must_ detest you in -self-defence; most of your adverse critics are the poorly-paid hacks -of the daily journals, who envy you your house, your horses, your good -fortune, and your popularity with the public; if you want them to -admire you, go in for a big scandal. Run away with some blackguard; -have several husbands; do something to tarnish your woman’s -reputation; be a vulture or a worm, not a star; men do not care for -stars, they are too distant, too cold, too pure!” - -“Are you speaking satirically,” asked Madame Vassilius, “or in grim -earnest?” - -“In grim earnest, fair lady,” and El-Râmi rose from his chair and -confronted her with a half-smile. “In grim earnest, men are brutes! -The statement is one which is frequently made by what is called the -‘Shrieking Sisterhood’; but I, a man, agree to it in cold blood, -without conditions. We are stupid brutes; we work well in gangs, but -not so well singly. As soldiers, sailors, builders, engineers, -labourers, all on the gang method, we are admirable. The finest -paintings of the world were produced by bodies of men working under -one head, called ‘schools,’ but differing from our modern ‘schools’ in -this grand exception, that, whereas _now_ each pupil tries his hand at -something of his own, _then_ all the pupils worked at the one design -of the Master. Thus were painted the frescoes of Michael Angelo, and -the chief works of Raphael. Now the rule is ‘every man for himself and -the devil take the hindmost.’ And very poorly does ‘each man for -himself’ succeed. Men must always be helped along, either by each -other--or ... by ... a woman! Many of them owe all their success in -life to the delicate management and patient tact of woman, and yet -never have the grace to own it. Herein we are thankless brutes as well -as stupid. But, as far as I personally am concerned, I am willing to -admit that all my best discoveries, such as they are, are due to the -far-reaching intelligence and pure insight of a woman.” - -This remark utterly amazed Féraz; Madame Vassilius looked surprised. - -“Then,” she said, smiling slightly, “of course you love some one?” - -A shadow swept over El-Râmi’s features. - -“No, Madame; I am not capable of love, as this world understands -loving. Love has existence, no doubt, but surely not as Humanity -accepts it. For example, a man loves a woman; she dies; he gradually -forgets her, and loves another, and so on. That is not love, but it is -what society is satisfied with, as such. You are quite right to -despise such a fleeting emotion for yourself; it is not sufficient for -the demands of your nature; you seek something more lasting.” - -“Which I shall never find,” said Irene quietly. - -“Which you will find, and which you must find,” declared El-Râmi. -“All longings, however vague, whether evil or good, are bound to be -fulfilled, there being no waste in the economy of the universe. This -is why it is so necessary to weigh well the results of desire before -encouraging it. I quite understand your present humour, Madame--it is -one of restlessness and discontent. You find your crown of fame has -thorns; never mind! wear it royally, though the blood flows from the -torn brows. You are solitary at times, and find the solitude irksome; -Art serves her children thus--she will accept no half-love, but takes -all. Were I asked to name one of the most fortunate of women, I think -I should name you, for, notwithstanding the progress of your -intellectual capacity, you have kept your faith.” - -“I have kept my religion, if you mean that,” said Irene, impressed by -his earnestness; “but it is not the religion of the churches.” - -He gave an impatient gesture. - -“The religion of the churches is a mere Show-Sunday,” he returned. “We -all know that. When I say you have kept your faith, I mean that you -can believe in God without positive proofs of Him. That is a grand -capability in this age. I wish I had it!” - -Irene Vassilius looked at him wonderingly. - -“Surely you believe in God?” - -“Not till I can _prove_ Him!” and El-Râmi’s eyes flashed defiantly. -“Vice triumphant, and Virtue vanquished, do not explain Him to me. -Torture and death do not manifest to my spirit His much-talked-of -‘love and goodness.’ I must unriddle His secret; I must pierce into -the heart of His plan, before I join the enforced laudations of the -multitude; I must know and feel that it is the truth I am proclaiming, -before I stand up in the sight of my fellows and say, ‘O God, Thou art -the Fountain of Goodness, and all Thy works are wise and wonderful!’” - -He spoke with remarkable power and emphasis; his attitude was full of -dignity. Madame Vassilius gazed at him in involuntary admiration. - -“It is a bold spirit that undertakes to catechise the Creator and -examine into the value of His creation,” she said. - -“If there is a Creator,” said El-Râmi, “and if from Him all things do -come, then from Him also comes my spirit of inquiry. I have no belief -in a devil, but, if there were one, the Creator is answerable for him, -too. And to revert again to your questions, Madame, shall we not in a -way make God somewhat responsible for the universal prostitution of -woman? It is a world-wide crime, and only very slight attempts as yet -have been made to remedy it, because the making of the laws is in the -hands of men--the criminals. The Englishman, the European generally, -is as great a destroyer of woman’s life and happiness as any Turk or -other barbarian. The life of the average woman is purely animal; in -her girlhood she is made to look attractive, and her days pass into -the consideration of dress, appearance, manner, and conversation; when -she has secured her mate, her next business is to bear him children. -The children reared, and sent out into the world, she settles down -into old age, wrinkled, fat, toothless, and frequently quarrelsome; -the whole of her existence is not a grade higher than that of a -leopardess or other forest creature, and sometimes not so exciting. -When a woman rises above all this, she is voted by the men -‘unwomanly’; she is no longer the slave or the toy of their passions; -and that is why, my dear Madame, they give the music-hall dancer their -diamonds, and heap upon _you_ their sneers.” - -Irene sat silent for some minutes, and a sigh escaped her. - -“Then it is no use trying to be a little different from the rest,” she -said wearily; “a little higher, a little less prone to vulgarity? If -one must be hated for striving to be worthy of one’s vocation----” - -“My dear lady, you do not see that men will never admit that -literature _is_ your vocation! No, not even if you wrote as grand a -tragedy as ‘Macbeth.’ Your vocation, according to them, is to adore -their sex, to look fascinating, to wear pretty clothes, and purr -softly like a pleased cat when they make you a compliment; not to -write books that set everybody talking. They would rather see you -dragged and worn to death under the burden of half a dozen children, -than they would see you stepping disdainfully past them, in all the -glory of fame. Yet be content,--you have, like Mary in the Gospel, -‘chosen the better part;’ of that I feel sure, though I am unable to -tell you why or how I feel it.” - -“If you feel sure of certain things without being able to explain how -or why you feel them,” put in Féraz suddenly, “is it not equally easy -to feel sure of God without being able to explain how or why He -exists?” - -“Admirably suggested, my dear Féraz,” observed El-Râmi, with a -slight smile. “But please recollect that, though it may be easy to you -and a fair romancist like Madame Vassilius to feel sure of God, it is -not at all easy to me. I am not sure of Him; I have not seen Him, and -I am not conscious of Him. Moreover, if an average majority of people -taken at random could be persuaded to speak the truth for once in -their lives, they would all say the same thing--that they are not -conscious of Him. Because if they were--if the world were--the emotion -of fear would be altogether annihilated; there would never be any -‘panic’ about anything; people would not shriek and wail at the -terrors of an earthquake, or be seized with pallor and trembling at -the crash and horror of an unexpected storm. Being sure of God would -mean being sure of Good; and I’m afraid none of us are convinced in -that direction. But I think and believe that, if we indeed felt sure -of God, evil would be annihilated as well as fear. And the mystery is, -why does He not _make_ us sure of Him? It must be in His power to do -so, and would save both Him and us an infinite deal of trouble.” - -Féraz grew restless and left his place, laying down the volume he had -been pretending to read. - -“I wish you would not be so horribly, cruelly _definite_ in your -suggestions,” he said rather vexedly. “What is the good of it? It -unsettles one’s mind.” - -“Surely your mind is not unsettled by a merely reasonable idea -reasonably suggested?” returned El-Râmi calmly. “Madame Vassilius -here is not ‘unsettled,’ as you call it.” - -“No,” said Irene slowly; “but I had thought you more of a spiritual -believer----” - -“Madame,” said El-Râmi impressively, “I am a spiritual believer, but -in this way: I believe that this world and all worlds are composed of -Spirit and Matter, and not only do I believe it, but I _know_ it! The -atmosphere around us and all planets is composed of Spirit and Matter; -and every living creature that breathes is made of the same dual -mixture. Of the Spirit that forms part of Matter and dominates it, I, -even _I_ have some control; and others who come after me, treading in -the same lines of thought, will have more than I. I can influence the -spirit of man; I can influence the spirit of the air; I can draw an -essence from the earth upwards that shall seem to you like the wraith -of some one dead; but if you ask me whether these provable, -practicable scientific tests or experiments on the spirit, that is -part of Nature’s very existence, are manifestations of God or the -Divine, I say--No. God would not permit Man to play at will with His -eternal Fires; whereas, with the spirit essence that can be chemically -drawn from earth and fire and water, I, a mere studious and -considering biped, can do whatsoever I choose. I know how the legends -of phantoms and fairies arose in the world’s history, because at one -time, one particular period of the prehistoric ages, the peculiar, yet -natural combination of the elements and the atmosphere _formed_ -‘fantasma’ which men saw and believed in. The last trace of these now -existing is the familiar ‘mirage’ of cities with their domes and -steeples seen during certain states of the atmosphere in mid-ocean. -Only give me the conditions, and I will summon up a ghostly city too. -I can form numberless phantasmal figures now, and more than this, I -can evoke for your ears, from the very bosom of the air, music such as -long ago sounded for the pleasure of men and women dead. For the air -is a better phonograph than Edison’s, and has the advantage of being -eternal.” - -“But such powers are marvellous!” exclaimed Irene. “I cannot -understand how you have attained to them.” - -“Neither can others less gifted understand how you Madame, have -attained your literary skill,” said El-Râmi “All art, all science, -all discovery, is the result of a concentrated Will, an indomitable -Perseverance. My ‘powers,’ as you term them, are really very slight, -and, as I said before, those who follow my track will obtain far -greater supremacy. The secret of phantasmal splendour or ‘vision,’ as -also the clue to what is called ‘unearthly music’--anything and -everything that is or pretends to be of a supernatural character in -this world--can be traced to natural causes, and the one key to it all -is the great fact that nothing in the Universe is lost. Bear that -statement well in mind. Light preserves all scenes; Air preserves all -sounds. Therefore, it follows that if the scenes are there, and the -sounds are there, they can be evoked again, and yet again, by him who -has the skill to understand the fluctuations of the atmospheric waves, -and the incessantly recurring vibrations of light. Do not imagine that -even a thought, which you very naturally consider your own, actually -remains a fixture in your brain from whence it was germinated. It -escapes while you are in the very act of thinking it; its subtle -essence evaporates into the air you breathe and the light you absorb. -If it presents itself to you again, it will probably be in quite a -different form, and perhaps you will hardly recognise it. All thought -escapes thus; you cannot keep it to yourself any more than you can -have breath without breathing.” - -“You mean that a thought belongs to all, and not to one individual?” -said Irene. - -“Yes, I mean that,” replied El-Râmi; “and thought, I may say, is the -only reflex I can admit of possible Deity, because thought is free, -absolute, all-embracing, creative, perpetual, and unwearied. Limitless -too--great Heaven, how limitless! To what heights does it not soar? In -what depths does it not burrow? How daring, how calm, how indifferent -to the ocean-swell of approaching and receding ages! Your modern -Theosophist, calmly counting his gains from the blind incredulity and -stupidity of the unthinking masses, is only copying, in a very -Liliputian manner, the grand sagacity and cunning of the ancient -Egyptian ‘magi,’ who, by scientific trickery, ruled the ignorant -multitude; it is the same thought, only dressed in modern aspect. -Thought, and the proper condensation, controlling and usage of -thought, is Power,--Divinity, if you will. And it is the only existing -Force that can make gods of men.” - -Irene Vassilius sat silent, fascinated by his words, and still more -fascinated by his manner. After a few minutes she spoke-- - -“I am glad you admit,” she said gently, “that this all-potent Thought -may be a reflex of the Divine,--for we can have no reflections of -light without the Light itself. I came to you in a somewhat -discontented humour,--I am happier now. I suppose I ought to be -satisfied with my lot,--I am certainly more fortunately situated than -most women.” - -“You are, Madame”--said El-Râmi, smiling pensively and fixing his -dark eyes upon her with a kind expression,--“And your native good -sense and wit will prevent you, I hope, from marring the good which -the gods have provided for you. Do not marry yet,--it would be too -great a disillusion for you. The smallest touch of prose is sufficient -to destroy the delicacy of love’s finer sentiments; and marriage, as -the married will tell you, is all prose,--very prosy prose too. Avoid -it!--prosy prose is tiresome reading.” - -She laughed, and rose to take her leave. - -“I saw your brother with Mr. Ainsworth yesterday,” she observed--“And -I could not understand how two such opposite natures could possibly -agree.” - -“Oh, we did not agree,--we have not agreed,” said Féraz hastily, -speaking for himself--“It is not likely we shall see much of each -other.” - -“I am glad to hear it”--and she extended her hand to him, “You are -very young, and Roy Ainsworth is very old, not in years, but in heart. -It would be a pity for you to catch the contagion of our modern -pessimism.” - -“But----” Féraz hesitated and stammered, “it was you, was it not, -Madame, who suggested to Mr. Ainsworth that he should take me as the -model for one of the figures in his picture?” - -“Yes, it was I,” replied Irene with a slight smile--“But I never -thought you would consent,--and I felt sure that, even if you did, he -would never succeed in rendering your expression, for he is a mere -surface-painter of flesh, not soul--still, all the same, it amused me -to make the suggestion.” - -“Yes,--woman-like,” said El-Râmi--“You took pleasure in offering him -a task he could not fulfil. There you have another reason why -intellectual women are frequently detested--they ask so much and give -so little.” - -“You wrong us,” answered Irene swiftly. “When we love, we give all!” - -“And so you give too much!” said El-Râmi gravely--“It is the common -fault of women. You should never give ‘all’--you should always hold -back something. To be fascinating, you should be enigmatical. When -once man is allowed to understand your riddle thoroughly, the spell is -broken. The placid, changeless, monotonously amiable woman has no -power whatever over the masculine temperament. It is Cleopatra that -makes a slave of Antony, not blameless and simple Octavia.” - -Irene Vassilius smiled. - -“According to such a theory, the angels must be very tame and -uninteresting individuals,” she said. - -El-Râmi’s eyes grew lustrous with the intensity of his thought. - -“Ah, Madame, our conception of angels is a very poor and false one, -founded on the flabby imaginations of ignorant priests. An Angel, -according to my idea, should be wild and bright and restless as -lightning, speeding from star to star in search of new lives and new -loves, with lips full of music and eyes full of fire, with every fibre -of its immortal being palpitating with pure yet passionate desires for -everything that can perfect and equalise its existence. The pallid, -goose-winged object represented to us as inhabiting a country of -No-Where without landscape or colour, playing on an unsatisfactory -harp and singing ‘Holy, holy’ for ever and ever, is no Angel, but -rather a libel on the whole systematic creative plan of the Universe. -Beauty, brilliancy, activity, glory and infinite variety of thought -and disposition--if these be not in the composition of an Angel, then -the Creator is but poorly served!” - -“You speak as if you had seen one of these immortals?” said Irene, -surprised. - -A shadow darkened his features. - -“Not I, Madame--except once--in a dream! You are going!--then -farewell! Be happy,--and encourage the angelic qualities in -yourself--for, if there be a Paradise anywhere, you are on the path -that leads to it.” - -“You think so?” and she sighed--“I hope you may be right,--but -sometimes I fear, and sometimes I doubt. Thank you for all you have -said,--it is the first time I have met with so much gentleness, -courtesy and patience from one of your sex. Good-bye!” - -She passed out, Féraz escorting her to her carriage, which waited at -the door; then he returned to his brother with a slow step and -meditative air. - -“Do men really wrong women so much as she seems to think?” he asked. - -El-Râmi paused a moment,--then answered slowly: - -“Yes, Féraz, they do; and, as long as this world wags, they will! Let -God look to it!--for the law of feminine oppression is His--not ours!” - - - - - XXIX. - -That same week was chronicled one of the worst gales that had ever -been known to rage on the English coast. From all parts of the country -came accounts of the havoc wrought on the budding fruit-trees by the -pitiless wind and rain,--harrowing stories of floods and shipwrecks -came with every fresh despatch of news,--great Atlantic steamers were -reported “missing,” and many a fishing-smack went down in sight of -land, with all the shrieking, struggling souls on board. For four days -and four nights the terrific hurricane revelled in destruction, its -wrath only giving way to occasional pauses of heavy silence more awful -than its uproar; and, by the rocky shores of Ilfracombe, the scene of -nature’s riot, confusion and terror attained to a height of -indescribable grandeur. The sea rose in precipitous mountain-masses, -and anon wallowed in black abysmal chasms,--the clouds flew in a -fierce rack overhead like the forms of huge witches astride on -eagle-shaped monsters,--and with it all there was a close heat in the -air, notwithstanding the tearing wind,--a heat and a sulphureous -smell, suggestive of some pent-up hellish fire that but waited its -opportunity to break forth and consume the land. On the third day of -the gale, particularly, this curious sense of suffocation was almost -unbearable, and Dr. Kremlin, looking out of his high tower window in -the morning at the unquiet sky and savage sea, wondered, as the wind -scudded past, why it brought no freshness with it, but only an -increased heat, like the “simoom” of the desert. - -“It is one of those days on which it would seem that God is really -angry,” mused Kremlin--“angry with Himself, and still more angry with -His creature.” - -The wind whistled and shrieked in his ears as though it strove to -utter some wild response to his thought,--the sullen roaring and -battling of the waves on the beach below sounded like the clashing -armour of contesting foes,--and the great Disc in the tower revolved, -or appeared to revolve, more rapidly than its wont, its incessant -whirr-whirring being always distinctly heard above the fury of the -storm. To this, his great work, the chief labour of his life, Dr. -Kremlin’s eyes turned wistfully, as, after a brief observation of the -turbulent weather, he shut his window fast against the sheeting rain. -Its shining surface, polished as steel, reflected the lights and -shadows of the flying storm-clouds, in strange and beautiful groups -like moving landscapes--now and then it flashed with a curious -lightning glare of brilliancy as it swung round to its appointed -measure, even as a planet swings in its orbit. A new feature had been -added to the generally weird effect of Kremlin’s strange studio or -workshop,--this was a heavy black curtain made of three thicknesses of -cloth sewn closely together, and weighted at the end with -bullet-shaped balls of lead. It was hung on a thick iron pole, and ran -easily on indiarubber rings,--when drawn forward it covered the Disc -completely from the light without interfering with any portion of its -mechanism. Three days since, Kremlin had received El-Râmi’s letter -telling him what the monk from Cyprus had said concerning the “Third -Ray” or the messages from Mars, and, eagerly grasping at the smallest -chance of any clue to the labyrinth of the Light-vibrations, he had -lost no time in making all the preparations necessary for this grand -effort, this attempt to follow the track of the flashing signal whose -meaning, though apparently unintelligible, might yet with patience be -discovered. So, following the suggestions received, he had arranged -the sable drapery in such a manner that it could be drawn close across -the Disc, or, in a second, be flung back to expose the whole surface -of the crystal to the light,--all was ready for the trial, when the -great storm came and interfered. Dense clouds covered the -firmament,--and not for one single moment since he received the monk’s -message had Kremlin seen the stars. However, he was neither -discouraged nor impatient,--he had not worked amid perplexities so -long to be disheartened now by a mere tempest, which in the ordinary -course of nature would wear itself out, and leave the heavens all the -clearer both for reflection and observation. Yet he, as a -meteorologist, was bound to confess that the fury of the gale was of -an exceptional character, and that the height to which the sea lifted -itself before stooping savagely towards the land and breaking itself -in hissing spouts of spray was stupendous, and in a manner appalling. -Karl, his servant, was entirely horrified at the scene,--he hated the -noise of the wind and waves, and more than all he hated the incessant -melancholy scream of the sea-birds that wheeled in flocks round and -round the tower. - -“It is for all the world like the shrieks of drowning men”--he said, -and shivered, thinking of the pleasantly devious ways of the Rhine and -its placid flowing,--placid even in flood, as compared with the -howling ocean, all madness and movement and terror. Twice during that -turbulent day Karl had asked his master whether the tower “shook.” - -“Of course!” answered Dr. Kremlin with a smile in his mild eyes--“Of -course it shakes,--it can hardly do otherwise in such a gale. Even a -cottage shakes in a fierce wind.” - -“Oh yes, a cottage shakes,” said Karl meditatively--“but then if a -cottage blows away altogether it doesn’t so much matter. Cottages are -frequently blown away in America, so they say, with all the family -sitting inside. That’s not a bad way of travelling. But when a tower -flies through the air it seldom carries the family with it except in -bits.” - -Kremlin laughed, but did not pursue the conversation, and Karl went -about his duties in a gloomy humour, not common to his cheerful -temperament. He really had enough to put him out, all things -considered. Soot fell down the kitchen chimney--a huge brick also -landed itself with a crash in the fender,--there were crevices in the -doors and windows through which the wind played wailing sounds like a -“coronach” on the bagpipes;--and then, when he went out into the -courtyard to empty the pail of soot he had taken from the grate, he -came suddenly face to face with an ugly bird, whose repulsive aspect -quite transfixed him for the moment and held him motionless, staring -at it. It was a cormorant, and it stood huddled on the pavement, -blinking its disagreeable eyes at Karl,--its floppy wings were -drenched with the rain, and all over the yard was the wet trail of its -feathers and feet. - -“Shoo!” cried Karl, waving his arms and the pail of soot all -together--“Shoo! Beast!” - -But the cormorant appeared not to mind--it merely set about preening -its dirty wing. - -Karl grew savage, and, running back to the kitchen, brought shovel, -tongs and a broom, all of which implements he flung in turn at the -horrid-looking creature, which, finally startled, rose in air uttering -dismal cries as it circled higher and higher, the while Karl watched -its flight,--higher and higher it soared, till at last he ran out of -the courtyard to see where it went. Round and round the house it flew, -seeming to be literally tossed to and fro by the wind, its unpleasant -shriek still echoing distinctly above the deep boom of the sea, till -suddenly it made a short sweep downwards, and sat on the top of the -tower like a squat black phantom of the storm. - -“Nasty brute!” said Karl, shaking his clenched fist at it--“If the -Herr Doctor were like any other man, which he is not, he would have a -gun in the house, and I’d shoot that vile screamer. Now it will sit -cackling and yelling there all day and all night perhaps. Pleasant, -certainly!” - -And he went indoors, grumbling more than ever. Everything seemed to go -wrong that day,--the fire wouldn’t burn,--the kettle wouldn’t -boil,--and he felt inwardly vexed that his master was not as morose -and irritable as himself. But, as it happened, Dr. Kremlin was in a -singularly sweet and placid frame of mind,--the noise of the gale -seemed to soothe rather than agitate his nerves. For one thing, he was -much better in health, and looked years younger than when El-Râmi -visited him, bringing the golden flask whose contents were guaranteed -to give him a new lease of life. So far indeed the elixir had done its -work,--and to all appearances he might have been a well-preserved man -of about fifty, rather than what he actually was, close upon his -seventy-fourth year. As he could take no particularly interesting or -useful observations from his Disc during the progress of the tempest, -he amused himself with the task of perfecting one or two of his -“Light-Maps” as he called them, and he kept at this work with the -greatest assiduity and devotion all the morning. These maps were -wonderfully interesting, if only for the extreme beauty, intricacy and -regularity of the patterns,--one set of “vibrations” as copied from -the reflections on the Disc formed the exact shape of a branch of -coral,--another gave the delicate outline of a frond of fern. All the -lines ran in waves,--none of them were straight. Most of them were in -small ripples,--others were larger--some again curved broadly, and -turned round in a double twist, forming the figure 8 at long intervals -of distance, but all resolved themselves into a definite pattern of -some sort. - -“Pictures in the sky!” he mused, as he patiently measured and -re-touched the lines. “And all different!--not two of them alike! What -do they all mean?--for they must mean something. Nothing--not the -lowest atom that exists is without a meaning and a purpose. Shall I -ever discover the solution to the Light-mystery, or is it so much -God’s secret that it will never become Man’s?” - -So he wondered, puzzling himself, with a good deal of pleasure in the -puzzle. He was happy in his work, despite its strange and difficult -character,--El-Râmi’s elixir had so calmed and equalised his physical -temperament that he was no longer conscious of worry or perplexity. -Satisfied that he had years of life before him in which to work, he -was content to let things take their course, and he laboured on in the -spirit that all labour claims, “without haste, without rest.” Feverish -hurry in work,--eagerness to get the rewards of it before -conscientiously deserving them,--this disposition is a curse of the -age we live in and the ruin of true art,--and it was this delirium of -haste that had seized Kremlin when he had summoned El-Râmi to his -aid. Now, haste seemed unnecessary;--there was plenty of time, -and--possessed of the slight clue to the “Third Ray,”--plenty of hope -as well, or so he thought. - -In the afternoon the gale gradually abated, and sank to a curiously -sudden dead calm. The sea still lifted toppling foam-crowned peaks to -the sky, and still uttered shattering roars of indignation,--but there -was a break in the clouds and a pale suggestion of sunshine. As the -evening closed in, the strange dull quietness of the air -deepened,--the black mists on the horizon flashed into stormy red for -an instant when the sun set,--and then darkened again into an ominous -greenish-gray. Karl, who was busy cooking his master’s dinner, stopped -stirring some sauce he was making, to listen, as it were, to the -silence,--the only sound to be heard was the long roll and swish of -the sea on the beach,--and even the scream of the gulls was stilled. -Spoon in hand he went out in the yard to observe the weather; all -movement in the heavens seemed to have been suddenly checked, and -masses of black cloud rested where they were, apparently motionless. -And while he looked up at the sky he could hardly avoid taking the top -of the tower also into his view;--there, to his intense disgust, still -sate his enemy of the morning, the cormorant. Something that was not -quite choice in the way of language escaped his lips as he saw the -hateful thing;--its presence was detestable to him and filled his mind -with morbid imaginations which no amount of reasoning could chase -away. - -“And yet what is it but a bird!” he argued with himself angrily, as he -went indoors and resumed his cooking operations--“A bird of prey, fond -of carrion--nothing more. Why should I bother myself about it? If I -told the Herr Doctor that it was there, squatting at ease on his -tower, he would very likely open the window, invite the brute in, and -offer it food and shelter for the night. For he is one of those -kind-hearted people who think that all the animal creation are worthy -of consideration and tenderness. Well,--it may be very good and broad -philosophy,--all the same, if I caught a rat sitting in my bed, I -shouldn’t like it,--nor would I care to share my meals with a lively -party of cockroaches. There are limits to Christian feelings. And, as -for that beast of a bird outside, why, it’s better outside than in, so -I’ll say nothing about it.” - -And he devoted himself more intently than ever to the preparation of -the dinner,--for his master had now an excellent appetite, and ate -good things with appreciation and relish, a circumstance which greatly -consoled Karl for many other drawbacks in the service he had -undertaken. For he was a perfect cook, and proud of his art, and that -night he was particularly conscious of the excellence of the little -tasty dishes he had, to use an art-term, “created,” and he watched his -master enjoy their flavour, with a proud, keen sense of his own -consummate skill. - -“When a man relishes his food it is all right with him,” he -thought.--“Starving for the sake of science may be all very well, but -if it kills the scientist what becomes of the science?” - -And he grew quite cheerful in the contemplation of the “Herr Doctor’s” -improved appetite, and by degrees almost forgot the uncanny bird that -was still sitting on the topmost ledge of the tower. - -Among other studious habits engendered by long solitude into which -Kremlin had fallen, was the somewhat unhygienic one of reading at -meals. Most frequently it was a volume of poems with which he beguiled -the loneliness of his dinner, for he was one of those rare few who -accept and believe in what may be called the “Prophecies” of Poesy. -These are in very truth often miraculous, and it can be safely -asserted that if the writers of the Bible had not been poets they -would never have been prophets. A poet,--if he indeed _be_ a poet, and -not a mere manufacturer of elegant verse,--always raves--raves madly, -blindly, incoherently of things he does not really understand. -Moreover, it is not himself that raves--but a Something within -him,--some demoniac or angelic spirit that clamours its wants in wild -music, which by throbbing measure and degree resolves itself, after -some throes of pain on the poet’s part, into a peculiar and -occasionally vague language. The poet, as man, is no more than man; -but that palpitating voice in his mind gives him no rest, tears his -thoughts piecemeal, rends his soul, and consumes him with feverish -trouble and anxiety not his own, till he has given it some sort of -speech, however mystic and strange. If it resolves itself into a -statement which appals or amazes, he, the poet, cannot help it; if it -enunciates a prophecy he is equally incapable of altering or refuting -it. When Shakespeare wrote the three words, “Sermons in stones,” he -had no idea that he was briefly expounding with perfect completeness -the then to him unknown science of geology. The poet is not born of -flesh alone, but of spirit--a spirit which dominates him whether he -will or no, from the very first hour in which his childish eyes look -inquiringly on leaves and flowers and stars--a spirit which catches -him by the hands, kisses him on the lips, whispers mad nothings in his -startled ears, flies restlessly round and about him, brushing his -every sense with downy, warm, hurrying wings,--snatches him up -altogether at times and bids him sing, write, cry out strange oracles, -weep forth wild lamentations, and all this without ever condescending -to explain to him the reason why. It is left to the world to discover -this “Why,” and the discovery is often not made till ages after the -poet’s mortal dust has been transformed to flowers in the grass which -little children gather and wear unknowingly. The poet whose collected -utterances Dr. Kremlin was now reading, as he sipped the one glass of -light burgundy which concluded his meal, was Byron; the fiery singer -whose exquisite music is pooh-poohed by the insipid critics of the -immediate day, who, jealous of his easily-won and world-wide fame, -grudge him the laurel, even though it spring from the grave of a hero -as well as bard. The book was open at “Manfred,” and the lines on -which old Kremlin’s eyes rested were these: - - “How beautiful is all this visible world! - How glorious in its action and itself! - But we who name ourselves its sovereigns, we - Half dust, half deity, alike unfit - To sink or soar, with our mix’d essence make - A conflict of its elements, and breathe - The breath of degradation and of pride, - Contending with low wants and lofty will. - Till our mortality predominates, - And men are,--what they name not to themselves, - And trust not to each other.” - -“Now that passage is every whit as fine as anything in Shakespeare,” -thought Kremlin--“and the whole secret of human trouble is in it;--it -is not the world that is wrong, but we--we ‘who make a conflict of its -elements.’ The question is, if we are really ‘unfit to sink or soar’ -is it our fault?--and may we not ask without irreverence why we were -made so incomplete? Ah, my clever friend El-Râmi Zarânos has set -himself a superhuman task on the subject of this ‘Why,’ and I fancy I -shall find out the riddle of Mars, and many another planet besides, -before he ‘proves,’ as he is trying to do, the conscious and -individual existence of the soul.” - -He turned over the pages of “Manfred” thoughtfully, and then stopped, -his gaze riveted on the splendid lines in which the unhappy hero of -the tragedy flings his last defiance to the accusing demons-- - - “The mind which is immortal makes itself - Requital for its good or evil thoughts-- - Is its own origin of ill and end-- - And its own place and time--its innate sense, - When stripped of this mortality, derives - No colour from the fleeting things without, - But is absorbed in sufferance or in joy, - Born from the knowledge of its own desert. - Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not tempt; - I have not been thy dupe, nor am thy prey-- - But was my own destroyer, and will be - My own hereafter.--Back, ye baffled fiends! - The hand of death is on me,--but not yours!” - -“And yet people will say that Byron was an immoral writer!” murmured -Kremlin--“In spite of the tremendous lesson conveyed in those lines! -There is something positively terrifying in that expression-- - - ‘But was my own destroyer, and will be - My own hereafter.’ - -What a black vista of possibilities----” - -Here he broke off, suddenly startled by a snaky blue glare that -flashed into the room like the swift sweep of a sword-blade. Springing -up from the table he rubbed his dazzled eyes. - -“Why--what was that?” he exclaimed. - -“Lightning!” replied Karl, just entering at the moment--“and a very -nasty specimen of it. ... I’d better put all the knives and steel -things by.” - -And he proceeded to do this, while Kremlin still stood in the centre -of the room, his sight yet a little confused by the rapidity and -brilliancy of that unexpected storm-flash. A long low ominous -muttering of thunder, beginning far off and rolling up nearer and -nearer till it boomed like a volley of cannon in unison with the roar -of the sea, followed,--then came silence. No rain fell, and the wind -only blew moderately enough to sway the shrubs in front of the house -lightly to and fro. - -“It will be a stormy night,” said Dr. Kremlin then, recovering himself -and taking up his Byron--“I am sorry for the sailors! You had better -see well to all the fastenings of the doors and windows.” - -“Trust me!” replied Karl sententiously--“You shall not be carried out -to sea against your will if I can help it--nor have I any desire to -make such a voyage myself. I hope, Herr Doctor”--he added with a touch -of anxiety--“you are not going to spend this evening in the tower?” - -“I certainly am!” answered Kremlin, smiling--“I have work up there, -and I cannot afford to be idle on account of a thunderstorm. Why do -you look so scared? There is no danger.” - -“I didn’t say there was”--and Karl fidgeted uneasily--“but--though -I’ve never been inside it, I should think the tower was lonesome, and -I should fancy there might be too close a view of the lightning to be -quite pleasant.” - -Kremlin looked amused, and, walking to the window, pushed back one of -the curtains. - -“I believe it was a false alarm,” he said, gazing at the sea--“That -flash and thunder-peal were the parting notes of a storm that has -taken place somewhere else. See!--the clouds are clearing.” - -So in truth they were; the evening, though very dark, seemed to give -promise of a calm. One or two stars twinkled faintly in a -blackish-blue breadth of sky, and, perceiving these shining monitors -and problems of his life’s labour, Kremlin wasted no more time in -words, but abruptly left the room and ascended to his solitary studio. -Karl, listening, heard the closing of the heavy door aloft and the -grating of the key as it turned in the lock,--and he also heard that -strange perpetual whirring noise above, which, though he had in a -manner grown accustomed to it, always remained for him a perplexing -mystery. Shaking his head dolefully, and with a somewhat troubled -countenance, he cleared the dining-table, set the room in order, went -down to his kitchen, cleaned, rubbed, and polished everything till his -surroundings were as bright as it was possible for them to be, and -then, pleasantly fatigued, sat down to indite a letter to his mother -in the most elaborate German phraseology he could devise. He was -rather proud of his “learning,” and he knew his letters home were read -by nearly all the people in his native village as well as by his -maternal parent, so that he was particularly careful in his efforts to -impress everybody by the exceeding choiceness of his epistolary -“style.” Absorbed in his task, he at first scarcely noticed the -gradual rising of the wind, which, having rested for a few hours, now -seemed to have awakened in redoubled strength and fury. Whistling -under the kitchen door it came, with a cold and creepy chill,--it -shook the windows angrily, and then, finding the door of the outside -pantry open, shut it to with a tremendous bang, like an irate person -worsted in an argument. Karl paused, pen in hand; and, as he did so, a -dismal cry echoed round the house, the sound seeming to fall from a -height and then sweep over the earth with the wind, towards the sea. - -“It’s that brute of a bird!” said Karl half aloud--“Nice cheerful -voice he has, to be sure!” - -At that moment the kitchen was illuminated from end to end by a wide -blue glare of lightning, followed, after a heavy pause, by a short -loud clap of thunder. The hovering storm had at last gathered together -its scattered forces, and, concentrating itself blackly above the -clamorous sea, now broke forth in deadly earnest. - - - - - XXX. - -Kremlin meanwhile had reached his tower in time to secure a glimpse -of the clearer portion of the sky before it clouded over again. -Opening the great window, he leaned out and anxiously surveyed the -heavens. There was a little glitter of star-groups above his head, and -immediately opposite an almost stirless heavy fleece of blackness, -which he knew by its position hid from his sight the planet Mars, the -brilliant world he now sought to make the chief centre of his -observations. He saw that heavy clouds were slowly rolling up from the -south, and he was quite prepared for a fresh outbreak of storm and -rain, but he was determined to take advantage, if possible, of even a -few moments of temporary calm. And with this intention he fixed his -gaze watchfully on the woolly-looking dark mass of vapour that -concealed the desired star from his view, having first carefully -covered the steadily revolving Disc with its thick sable curtain. -Never surely was there a more weird and solemn-looking place than the -tower-room as it now appeared; no light in it at all save a fitful -side-gleam from the whirling edge of the Disc,--all darkness and -monotonous deep sound, with that patient solitary figure leaning at -the sill of the wide-open window, gazing far upward at the pallid -gleam of those few distant stars that truly did no more than make -“darkness visible.” The aged scientist’s heart beat quickly; the -weight of long years of labour and anxiety seemed to be lifted from -his spirit, and it was with almost all the ardour of his young student -days that he noted the gradual slow untwisting and dividing of those -threads of storm-mist, that like a dark web, woven by the Fates, -veiled the “red planet” whose flashing signal might prove to be the -key to a thousand hitherto unexplored mysteries. It was strange that -just at this particular moment of vague suspense his thoughts should -go wandering in a desultory wilful fashion back to his past,--and that -the history of his bygone life seemed to arrange itself, as it were, -in a pattern as definite as the wavy lines on his “Light-Maps” and -with just as _in_definite a meaning. He, who had lived that life, was -as perplexed concerning its ultimate intention as he was concerning -the ultimate meanings conveyed by the light-vibrations through air. He -tried to keep his ideas centred on the scientific puzzle he was -attempting to unravel,--he strove to think of every small fact that -bore more or less on that one central object,--he repeated to himself -the A B C of his art, concerning the vibrations of light on that first -natural reflector, the human eye,--how, in receiving the impression of -the colour red, for instance, the nerves of the eye are set quivering -_four hundred and eighty-two millions of millions of times_; or, of -the colour violet, seven hundred and seven millions of millions of -times _per second_. How could he hope to catch the rapid flash of the -“Third Ray” under these tremendous conditions? Would it not vanish -from the very face of the Disc before he had time to track its -circuit? But, though he strove to busy his brain with conjectures and -calculations, he was forced, in spite of himself, to go on groping -into the Past; that wonderful Past when he had been really -young--young with a youth not born of El-Râmi’s secret -concoctions,--but youth as it is received fresh and perfect from the -hand of Divinity--the talisman which makes all the world an Eden of -roses without thorns. He saw himself as he used to be, a slim student, -fair-haired and blue-eyed, absorbed in science, trying strange -experiments, testing new chemical combinations, ferreting out the -curious mysteries of atmospheric phenomena, and then being gradually -led to consider the vast amount of _apparently unnecessary_ Light _per -second_, that pours upon us from every radiating object in the -firmament, bearing in mind the fact that our Earth itself radiates -through Space, even though its glimmer be no more than that of a spark -amid many huge fires. He remembered how he had pored over the strange -but incontestable fact that two rays of light starting from the same -point and travelling in the same direction frequently combine to -produce darkness, by that principle which is known in the science of -optics as the _interference_ of the rays of light,--and how, in the -midst of all this, his work had been suddenly interrupted and put a -stop to by a power the stars in their courses cannot gainsay--Love. -Yes--he had loved and been beloved,--this poor, gentle, dreamy -man;--one winter in Russia--one winter when the snows lay deep on the -wild steppes and the wolves were howling for hunger in the gloom of -the forests,--he had dreamed his dream, and wakened from -it--broken-hearted. She whom he loved, a beautiful girl connected with -the Russian nobility, was associated, though he knew it not, with a -secret society of Nihilists, and was all at once arrested with several -others and accused of being party to a plot for the assassination of -the Tsar. Found guilty, she was sentenced to exile in Siberia, but -before the mandate could be carried out she died by her own hand, -poisoned in her prison cell. Kremlin, though not “suspect,” went -almost mad with grief, and fled from Russia never to set his foot on -its accursëd soil again. People said that the excess of his sorrow, -rage and despair had affected his brain, which was possible, as his -manner and mode of living, and the peculiar grooves of study into -which he fell, were undoubtedly strange and eccentric--and -yet--tenderness for his dead love, self-murdered in her youth and -beauty, kept him sensitively alive to human needs and human -suffering,--there was no scorn or bitterness in his nature, and his -faith in the unseen God was as great as El-Râmi’s doubt. But, left as -he was all alone in the world, he plunged into the obscure depths of -science with greater zest than ever, striving to forget the dire agony -of that brief love-drama, the fatal end of which had nearly closed his -own career in madness and death. And so the years drifted on and on in -work that every day grew more abstruse and perplexing, till he had -suddenly, as it were, found himself old,--too old, as he told himself -with nervous trembling, ever to complete what he had begun. Then he -had sent for El-Râmi; El-Râmi whom he had met and wondered at, -during his travels in the East years ago ... and El-Râmi, at his -desire, by strange yet potent skill, had actually turned back time in -its too rapid flight--and a new lease of life was vouchsafed to -him;--he had leisure,--long, peaceful leisure in which to carry out -his problems to perfection, if to carry them out were at all possible. -For had not El-Râmi said--“You cannot die, except by violence”? - -And thus, like the “star-patterns,” all the fragments of his personal -history came into his mind to-night as he waited at his tower-window, -watching the black pavilion under which the world of Mars swung round -in its fiery orbit. - -“Why do I think of all these bygone things just now?” he asked himself -wonderingly--“I who so seldom waste my time in looking back, my work -being all for the Future?” - -As he murmured the words half aloud, a rift showed itself in the cloud -he was observing,--a rift which widened gradually and broke up the -dark mass by swift and ever swifter degrees. Fold after fold of mist -dissolved and dispersed itself along the sky, swept by the wings of -the newly-arisen wind, and Mars, angrily crimson and stormily -brilliant, flashed forth a lurid fire ... In less time than -imagination can depict, Kremlin had noiselessly flung the black -curtain back from his disc, ... and with his eyes riveted upon its -gleaming pearly surface he waited ... scarcely breathing, ... every -nerve in his body seeming to contract and grow rigid with expectation -and something like dread. A pale light glistened on the huge disc ... -it was gone! ... another flash, ... and this remained trembling in -wavy lines and small revolving specks--now ... now ... the Third!--and -Kremlin craned his head forward eagerly ... it came!--like a drop of -human blood it fell, and raced more rapidly than quicksilver round and -round the polished surface of the disc, paling in tint among the other -innumerable silvery lines ... flashed again redly ... and ... -disappeared! A cry of irrepressible disappointment broke from -Kremlin’s lips. - -“Impossible! ... my God! ... impossible!” - -Ay!--impossible surely to track such velocity of motion--impossible to -fix the spot where first its dazzling blood-like hue fell, and where -it at last vanished. And yet Kremlin waited on in feverish -expectancy,--his lips apart, his breath coming and going in quick -uneasy gasps, his straining eyes fixed on that terrible, inscrutable -creation of his own skill, that fearful Mirror of the heavens which -reflected so much and betrayed so little! ... Heedless of the -muttering roar of the wind which now suddenly assailed the tower, he -stood, fascinated by the dazzling play of light that illumined the -disc more brilliantly than usual. A dismal scream,--the cry of the -cormorant perched on the roof above him, echoed faintly in his ears, -but he scarcely heard it, so absorbed was he in his monstrous Enigma; -till--all at once, a blue shaft of lightning glared in at the window, -its brief reflection transforming the disc for a second to an almost -overwhelming splendour of glittering colour. The strong blaze dazzled -Kremlin’s eyes,--and as the answering thunder rattled through the sky -he reluctantly moved from his position and went towards the window to -shut it against the threatening storm. But when he reached it he saw -that the planet Mars was yet distinctly visible; the lightning and -thunder came from that huge bank of clouds in the south he had before -noticed,--clouds which were flying rapidly up, but had not yet -entirely obscured the heavens. In eager and trembling haste he hurried -back to the disc,--it seemed alive with light, and glistened from -point to point like a huge jewel as it whirled and hummed its strange -monotonous music,--and, shading his eyes, he remained close beside it, -determined to watch it still, hoping against hope that another red -flash like the one he had lately seen might crimson the quivering mass -of silvery intersecting lines which he knew were not so much the -light-vibrations of stars now as reflexes of the electricity pent up -in the tempestuous atmosphere. - -“Patience ... patience!” he murmured aloud--“A moment more, and -perhaps I shall see, ... I shall know ... I shall find what I have -sought. ...” - -The last words were yet trembling on his lips when a fearful forkëd -tongue of red flame leaped from the clouds, descending obliquely like -a colossal sword, ... it smote the tower, splitting its arched roof -and rending its walls asunder,--and with the frightful boom and bellow -of thunder that followed, echoing over land and sea for miles and -miles there came another sound, ... a clanging jangle of chains and -wires and ponderous metals, ... the mighty mass of the glittering -Star-Dial swirled round unsteadily once ... twice ... quivered ... -stopped ... and then ... slipping from its wondrous pendulum, hurled -itself forward like a monster shield and fell! ... fell with an -appalling crash and thud, bringing the roof down upon itself in a -blinding shower of stones and dust and mortar. ... And then ... why, -then nothing! Nothing but dense blackness, muttering thunder, and the -roaring of the wind. - - -Outside, frantic with fear, Karl shook and battered at the -firmly-locked and bolted door of the tower. When that forked flash of -lightning had struck the house, it had stretched him senseless in his -kitchen,--he had, however, recovered after a few minutes’ -unconsciousness, dazed and stunned, but otherwise unhurt, and, -becoming gradually alive to the immediate dangers of the situation, he -had, notwithstanding the fury of the gale and the deafening peals of -thunder, rushed out of doors instinctively to look at the tower. One -glance showed him what had happened,--it was split asunder, and showed -dimly against the stormy night like a yawning ruin round which in time -the ivy might twist and cling. Breathless and mad with terror, he had -rushed back to the house and up the stairs, and now stood impatiently -clamouring outside the impenetrable portal whose firm interior -fastenings resisted all his efforts. He called, he knocked, he -kicked,--and then, exhausted with the vain attempt, stopped to listen. -... Nothing! ... not a sound! He made a hollow of his hands and put -his mouth to the keyhole. - -“Herr Doctor! ... Herr Doctor!” - -No answer,--except the stormy whistle of the blast. - -“No help for it!” he thought desperately, tears of excitement and -alarm gathering in his eyes--“I must call for assistance,--rouse the -neighbours and break open the door by force.” - -He ran downstairs and out of the house bareheaded, to be met by a -sudden sweep of rain which fell in a straight unpremeditated way from -the clouds in stinging torrents. Heedless of wind and wet he sped -along, making direct for some fishermen’s cottages whose inhabitants -he knew and whom in a manner he was friendly with, and, having roused -them up by shouts and cries, explained to them as briefly as possible -what had happened. As soon as they understood the situation four stout -fellows got ready to accompany him, and taking pickaxes, crowbars, -boathooks, and any other such implements as were handy, they ran -almost as quickly as Karl himself to the scene of the catastrophe. -Their excitement was to the full as great as his, till they reached -the top of the staircase and stood outside the mysterious door--there -they hung back a moment hesitatingly. - -“Call him again”--one whispered to Karl. “Mebbe he’s in there safe and -sound and did not hear ye at fust.” - -To satisfy the man’s scruples Karl obeyed, and called and called, and -knocked and knocked again and yet again,--with the same result,--no -answer, save the derisive yell of the gale. - -“He be dead an’ gone for sure”--said a second man, with a slight -pallor coming over his sea-tanned face--“Well ... well! ... if so be -as we _must_ break down th’ door----” - -“Here, give me one of those things”--cried Karl impatiently, and -snatching a crowbar he began dealing heavy blows at the massive -nail-studded oaken barrier. Seeing him so much in earnest, his -companions lost the touch of superstitious dread that had made them -hesitate, and also set themselves to work with a will, and in a few -minutes--minutes which to the anxious Karl seemed ages,--the door was -battered in, ... and they all rushed forward, ... but the fierce wind, -tearing wildly around them, caught the flame of the lamp they carried -and extinguished it, so that they were left in total darkness. But -over their heads the split roof yawned, showing the black sky, and -about their feet was a mass of fallen stones and dust and -indistinguishable ruin. As quickly as possible they re-lit the lamp -and, holding it aloft, looked tremblingly, and without speaking a -word, at the havoc and confusion around them. At first little could be -seen but heaped-up stones and bricks and mortar, but Karl’s quick eyes -roving eagerly about caught sight suddenly of something black under a -heap of débris,--and quickly bending down over it he began with his -hands to clear away the rubbish,--the other men, seeing what he was -trying to do, aided him in his task, and in about twenty minutes’ time -they succeeded in uncovering a black mass, huge and inanimate. - -“What is it?” whispered one of the men--“It’s ... it’s not him?” - -Karl said nothing--he felt himself turning sick with dread, ... he -touched that doubtful blackness--it was a thick cloth like a great -pall--it concealed ... what? Recklessly he pulled and tugged at it, -getting his hands lacerated by a tangled mesh of wires and -metals,--till, yielding at last to a strong jerk, it came away in -weighty clinging folds, disclosing what to him seemed an enormous -round stone, which, as the lamp-light flashed upon it, glistened -mysteriously with a thousand curious hues. Karl grasped its edge in an -effort to lift it--his fingers came in contact with something moist -and warm, and, snatching them away in a sort of vague horror, he saw -that they were stained with blood. - -“Oh my God! my God!” he cried--“He is down there,--underneath this -thing! ... help me to lift it, men!--lift it for Heaven’s sake!--lift -it, quick--quick!” - -But, though they all dragged at it with a will, the work was not so -easy--the great Disc had fallen flat, and lay solemnly inert--and that -oozing blood,--the blood of the too daring student of the stars who -had designed its mystic proportions,--trickled from under it with -sickening rapidity. At last, breathless and weary, they were about to -give up the task in despair, when Karl snatched from out the ruins the -iron needle or pendulum on which the Disc had originally swung, and, -all unknowing what it was, thrust it cautiously under the body of the -great stone to aid in getting a firmer hold of it, ... to his -amazement and terror the huge round mass caught and clung to it, like -warm sealing-wax to a piece of paper, and in an instant seemed to have -magically dispensed with all its weight, for as, with his unassisted -strength, he lifted the pendulum, the Disc lifted itself lightly and -easily with it! A cry of fear and wonder broke from all the men,--Karl -himself trembled in every limb, and big drops of cold sweat broke out -on his forehead at what he deemed the devilish horror of this miracle. -But as he, with no more difficulty than he would have experienced in -heaving up a moderate-sized log of wood, raised the Disc and flung it -back and away from him shudderingly, pendulum and all, his eyes fell -on _what_ had lain beneath it, ... a crushed pulp of human flesh and -streaming blood--and reverend silver hairs ... and with a groan that -seemed to rend his very heart Karl gave one upward sick stare at the -reeling sky, and fainted, ... as unconscious for the time being as -that indistinguishable mangled mass of perished mortality that once -had been his master. - - -Gently and with compassionate kindness, the rough fishers who stood by -lifted him up and bore him out of the tower and down the stairs,--and, -after a whispered consultation, carried him away from the house -altogether to one of their own cottages, where they put him under the -care of one of their own women. None of them could sleep any more that -night; they stood in a group close by their humble habitations, -watching the progress of the storm, and ever and anon casting -awe-stricken glances at the shattered tower. - -“The devil was in it”--said one of the men at last, as he lit his pipe -and endeavoured to soothe his nerves by several puffs at that smoky -consoler--“or else how would it rise up like that as light as a -feather at the touch of an iron pole?” - -“It must ’a weighed twenty stun at least”--murmured another man -meditatively. - -“What _was_ it?” demanded a third--“I should ’a took it for a big -grindstone if it hadn’t sparkled up so when the light fell on it.” - -“Well, it may stay where it is for all I care,” said the first -speaker--“I wouldn’t touch it again for a hundred pound!” - -“Nor I.” “Nor I.” - -They were all agreed on that point. - -“Wotever he were a-doin’ on,”--said the fourth man gravely--“whether -it were God’s work or the devil’s, it’s all over now. He’s done for, -poor old chap! It’s an awful end--God rest his soul!” - -The others lifted their caps and murmured “Amen” with simple -reverence. Then they looked out at the dark wallowing trough of the -sea. - -“How the wind roars!” said the last speaker. - -“Ay, it do roar,” replied the man who was his mate in the boat when -they went fishing; “and did ye hear a cormorant scream a while ago?” - -“Ay, ay! I heard it!” They were silent then, and turned in, after -making inquiries concerning Karl at the cottage where they had left -him. He was still unconscious. - - - - - XXXI. - -A couple of days later, El-Râmi was engaged in what was not a very -favourite occupation with him,--he was reading the morning’s -newspaper. He glanced over the cut-and-dry chronicle of “Storms and -Floods”--he noted that a great deal of damage had been wrought by the -gale at Ilfracombe and other places along the Devonshire coast,--but -there was nothing of any specially dreadful import to attract his -attention, and nothing either in politics or science of any pressing -or vital interest. There were two or three reviews of books, one of -these being pressed into a corner next to the advertisement of a -patent pill; there were announcements of the movements of certain -human units favoured with a little extra money and position than -ordinary, as being “in” or “out” of town, and there was a -loftily-patronising paragraph on the “Theosophical Movement,” or, as -it is more frequently termed, the “Theosophical Boom.” From this, -El-Râmi learned that a gentleman connected with the Press, who wrote -excessively commonplace verse, and thereby had got himself and his -name (through the aforesaid press connection) fairly well known, had -been good enough to enunciate the following amazing platitude:--“That, -as a great portion of the globe is composed of elements which cannot -be seen, and as the study of the invisible may be deemed as legitimate -as the study of the visible, he” (the press-connected versifier) “is -inclined to admit that there are great possibilities on the lines of -that study.” - -“Inclined to admit it, is he!” and El-Râmi threw aside the paper and -broke into a laugh of the sincerest enjoyment, “Heavens! what fools -there are in this world, who call themselves wise men! This little -poetaster, full of the conceit common to his imitative craft, is -‘inclined to admit’ that there are great possibilities in the study of -the invisible! Excellent condescension! How the methods of life have -turned topsy-turvy since the ancient days! Then the study of the -Invisible was the first key to the study of the Visible,--the things -which are seen being considered only as the reflexes of the things -which are unseen--the Unseen being accepted as Cause, the Seen as -Effect. Now we all drift the other way,--taking the Visible as -Fact,--the Invisible as Fancy!” - -Féraz, who was writing at a side-table, looked up at him. - -“Surely you are inconsistent?” he said--“You yourself believe in -nothing unless it is _proved_.” - -“But then, my dear fellow, I _can_ prove the Invisible and follow the -grades of it, and the modes by which it makes itself the Visible,--to -a certain extent--but only to a certain extent. Beyond the provable -limit I do not go. You, on the contrary, aided by the wings of -imagination, outsoar that limit, and profess to find angels, -star-kingdoms, and God Himself. I cannot go so far as this. But, -unlike our blown-out frog of a versifier here, who would fain persuade -mankind he is a bull, I am not only ‘inclined’ to admit--I _do_ admit -that there are ‘great possibilities’--only I must test them all before -I can accept them as facts made clear to my comprehension.” - -“Still, you believe in the Invisible?” - -“Naturally. I believe in the millions of suns in the Milky Way, though -they can scarcely be called ‘visible.’ I should be a fool if I did not -believe in the Invisible, under the present conditions of the -Universe. But I cannot be tricked by ‘shams’ of the Invisible. The -Theosophical business is a piece of vulgar imposture, in which the -professors themselves are willing to delude their own imaginations, as -well as the imaginations of others--they are the most wretched -imitators that ever were of the old Eastern sorcerers,--the fellows -who taught Moses and Aaron how to frighten their ignorant cattle-like -herds of followers. None of the modern ‘mediums,’ as they are called, -have the skill over atmospheric phenomena, metals, and light-reflexes -that Apollonius of Tyana had, or Alexander the Paphlagonian. Both -these scientific sorcerers were born about the same time as Christ, -and Apollonius, like Christ, raised a maiden from the dead. Miracles -were the fashion in that period of time,--and, according to the -monotonous manner in which history repeats itself, they are coming -into favour again in this century. All that we know now has been -already known. The ancient Greeks had their ‘penny-in-the-slot’ -machine for the purpose of scattering perfume on their clothes as they -passed along the streets--they had their ‘syphon’ bottles and vases as -we have, and they had their automatically opening and closing doors. -Compare the miserable ‘spiritualistic phenomena’ of the Theosophists -with the marvels wrought by Hakem, known as Mokanna! Mokanna could -cause an orb like the moon to rise from a well at a certain hour and -illumine the country for miles and miles around. How did he do it? By -a knowledge of electric force applied to air and water. The ‘bogies’ -of a modern _séance_ who talk bad grammar and pinch people’s toes and -fingers are very coarse examples of necromancy, compared with the -scientific skill of Mokanna and others of this tribe. However, -superstition is the same in all ages, and there will always be fools -ready to believe in ‘Mahatmas’ or anything else,--and the old -‘incantation of the Mantra’ will, if well done, influence the minds of -the dupes of the nineteenth century quite as effectively as it did -those of the bygone ages before Christ.” - -“What is the incantation of the Mantra?” asked Féraz. - -“A ridiculous trick”--replied El-Râmi--“known to every Eastern -conjurer and old woman who professes to see the future. You take your -dupe, and fling a little water over him, fixing upon him your eyes and -all the force of your will,--then, you take a certain mixture of -chemical substances and perfumes, and set them on fire--the flames and -fumes produce a dazzling and drowsy effect on the senses of your -‘subject,’ who will see whatever you choose him to see, and hear -whatever you intend him to hear. But Will is the chief ingredient of -the spell,--and if I, for example, choose to influence any one, I can -dispense with both water and fire--I can do it alone and without any -show of preparation.” - -“I know you can!” said Féraz meaningly, with a slight smile, and then -was silent. - -“I wonder what the art of criticism is coming to nowadays!” exclaimed -El-Râmi presently, taking up the paper again--“Here is a remark -worthy of Dogberry’s profundity--‘_This is a book that must be read to -be understood._’[3] Why, naturally! Who can understand a book without -reading it?” - -Féraz laughed--then his eyes darkened. - -“I saw an infamous so-called critique of one of Madame Vassilius’s -books the other day”--he said--“I should like to have thrashed the man -who wrote it. It was not criticism at all--it was a mere piece of -scurrilous vulgarity.” - -“Ah, but that sort of thing pays!” retorted El-Râmi satirically. “The -modern journalist attains his extremest height of brilliancy when he -throws the refuse of his inkpot at the name and fame of a woman more -gifted than himself. It’s nineteenth-century chivalry you know,--above -all ... it’s manly!” - -Féraz shrugged his shoulders with a faint gesture of contempt. - -“Then--if there is any truth in old chronicles--men are not what they -were;”--he said. - -“No--they are not what they were, my dear boy--because all things have -changed. Women were once the real slaves and drudges of men,--now, -they are very nearly their equals, or can be so if they choose. And -men have to get accustomed to this--at present they are in the -transition state and don’t like it. Besides, there will always be male -tyrants and female drudges as long as the world lasts. Men are not -what they were,--and, certes, they are not what they might be.” - -“They might be gods;”--said Féraz--“but I suppose they prefer to be -devils.” - -“Precisely!” agreed El-Râmi--“it is easier, and more amusing.” - -Féraz resumed his writing in silence. He was thinking of Irene -Vassilius, whom he admired;--and also of that wondrous Sleeping Beauty -enshrined upstairs whose loveliness he did not dare to speak of. He -had latterly noticed a great change in his brother,--an indefinable -softness seemed to have imperceptibly toned down the habitual cynicism -of his speech and manner,--his very expression of countenance was more -gracious and benign,--he looked handsomer,--his black eyes shot forth -a less fierce fire,--and yet, with all his gentleness and entire lack -of impatience, he was absorbed from morning to night in such close and -secret study as made Féraz sometimes fear for its ultimate result on -his health. - -“Do you really believe in prayer, Féraz?” was the very unexpected -question he now asked, with sudden and startling abruptness; “I mean, -do you think any one in the invisible realms _hears_ us when we pray?” - -Féraz laid down his pen, and gazed at his brother for a moment -without answering. Then he said slowly-- - -“Well, according to your own theories the air is a vast -phonograph,--so it follows naturally that everything is _heard_ and -_kept_. But as to prayer, that depends, I think, altogether on how you -pray. I do not believe in it at all times. And I’m afraid my ideas on -the subject are quite out of keeping with those generally -accepted----” - -“Never mind--let me have them, whatever they are”--interrupted -El-Râmi with visible eagerness--“I want to know when and how you -pray?” - -“Well, the fact is I very seldom pray”--returned Féraz--“I offer up -the best praise I can in mortal language devise, both night and -morning--but I never _ask_ for anything. It would seem so vile to ask -for more, having already so much. And I am sure God knows best--in -which case I have nothing to ask, except one thing.” - -“And that is----?” queried his brother. - -“Punishment!” replied Féraz emphatically; “I pray for that--I crave -for that--I implore that I may be punished at once when I have done -wrong, that I may immediately recognise my error. I would rather be -punished here, than hereafter.” - -El-Râmi paled a little, and his lips trembled. - -“Strange boy!” he murmured--“All the churches are praying God to take -away the punishments incurred for sin,--you, on the contrary, ask for -it as if it were a blessing.” - -“So it is a blessing”--declared Féraz--“It must be a blessing--and it -is absurd of the churches to pray against a Law. For it is a Law. -Nature punishes us, when we physically rebel against the rules of -health, by physical suffering and discomfort,--God punishes us in our -mental rebellions by mental wretchedness. This is as it should be. I -believe we get everything in this world that we deserve--no more and -no less.” - -“And do you never pray”--continued El-Râmi slowly, “for the -accomplished perfection of some cherished aim,--the winning of some -special joy----” - -“Not I”--said Féraz--“because I know that if it be good for me I -shall have it,--if bad, it will be withheld; all my prayers could not -alter the matter.” - -El-Râmi sat silent for a few minutes,--then, rising, he took two or -three turns up and down the room, and gradually a smile, half -scornful, half sweet, illumined his dark features. - -“Then, O young and serene philosopher, I will not pray!” he said, his -eyes flashing a lustrous defiance--“I have a special aim in view--I -mean to grasp a joy!--and whether it be good or bad for me, I will -attempt it unassisted.” - -“If it be good you will succeed;”--said Féraz with a glance -expressive of some fear as well as wonderment. “If it be bad, you will -not. God arranges these things for us.” - -“God--God--always God!” cried El-Râmi with some impatience--“No God -shall interfere with me!” At that moment there came a hesitating knock -at the street door. Féraz went to open it, and admitted a pale -grief-stricken man whose eyes were red and heavy with tears and whose -voice utterly failed him to reply when El-Râmi exclaimed in -astonishment: - -“Karl! ... Karl! You here? Why, what has happened?” - -Poor Karl made a heroic struggle to speak,--but his emotion was too -strong for him--he remained silent, and two great drops rolled down -his cheeks in spite of all his efforts to restrain them. - -“You are ill;”--said Féraz kindly, pushing him by gentle force into a -chair and fetching him a glass of wine--“Here, drink this--it will -restore you.” - -Karl put the glass aside tremblingly, and tried to smile his -gratitude,--and presently gaining a little control over himself he -turned his piteous glances towards El-Râmi whose fine features had -become suddenly grave and fixed in thought. - -“You ... you ... have not heard, sir----” he stammered. - -El-Râmi raised his hand gently, with a solemn and compassionate -gesture. - -“Peace, my good fellow!--no, I have not heard,--but I can -guess;--Kremlin, ... your master ... is dead.” - -And he was silent for many minutes. Fresh tears trickled from Karl’s -eyes, and he made a pretence of tasting the wine that Féraz pressed -upon him--Féraz, who looked as statuesque and serene as a young -Apollo. - -“You must console yourself;”--he said cheerfully to Karl, “Poor Dr. -Kremlin had many troubles and few joys--now he has gone where he has -no trouble and all joy.” - -“Ah!” sighed Karl dolefully--“I wish I could believe that, sir,--I -wish I could believe it! But it was the judgment of God upon him--it -was indeed!--that is what my poor mother would say,--the judgment of -God!” - -El-Râmi moved from his meditative attitude with a faint sense of -irritation. The words he had so lately uttered--“No God shall -interfere with me”--re-echoed in his mind. And now here was this -man,--this servant, weeping and trembling and talking of the “judgment -of God” as if it were really something divinely directed and -inexorable. - -“What do you mean?” he asked, endeavouring to suppress the impatience -in his voice--“Of course, I know he must have had some violent end, or -else he could not”--and he repeated the words impressively--“could not -have died,--but was there anything more than usually strange in the -manner of his death?” - -Karl threw up his hands. - -“More than usually strange! Ach, Gott!” and, with many interpolations -of despair and expressions of horror, he related in broken accents the -whole of the appalling circumstances attending his master’s end. In -spite of himself a faint shudder ran through El-Râmi’s warm blood as -he heard--he could almost see before him the horrible spectacle of the -old man’s mangled form lying crushed under the ponderous Disc his -daring skill had designed; and under his breath he murmured, “Oh -Lilith, oh my too happy Lilith! and yet you tell me there is no -death!” Féraz, however, the young and sensitive Féraz, listened to -the sad recital with quiet interest, unhorrified, apparently -unmoved,--his eyes were bright, his expression placid. - -“He could not have suffered;”--he observed at last, when Karl had -finished speaking--“The flash of lightning must have severed body and -spirit instantly and without pain. I think it was a good end.” - -Karl looked at the beautiful smiling youth in vague horror. What!--to -be flattened out like a board beneath a ponderous weight of fallen -stone--to be so disfigured as to be unrecognisable--to be only a -mangled mass of flesh difficult of decent burial,--and call that “a -good end”! Karl shuddered and groaned;--he was not versed in the -strange philosophies of young Féraz--_he_ had never been out of his -body on an ethereal journey to the star-kingdoms. - -“It was the judgment of God,”--he repeated dully--“Neither more nor -less. My poor master studied too hard, and tried to find out too much, -and I think he made God angry----” - -“My good fellow,” interrupted El-Râmi rather irritably--“do not talk -of what you do not understand. You have been faithful, hard-working -and all the rest of it,--but as for your master trying to find out too -much, or God getting angry with him, that is all nonsense. We were -placed on this earth to find out as much as we can, about it and about -ourselves, and do the best that is possible with our learning,--and -the bare idea of a great God condescending to be ‘angry’ with one out -of millions upon millions of units is absurd----” - -“But even if an unit rebels against the Law the Law crushes -him”--interrupted Féraz softly--“A gnat flies into flame--the flame -consumes it--the Law is fulfilled,--and the Law is God’s Will.” - -El-Râmi bit his lip vexedly. - -“Well, be that as it may, one must needs find out what the Law _is_ -first, before it can either be accepted or opposed,” he said. - -Féraz made no answer. He was thinking of the simplicity of certain -Laws of Spirit and Matter which were accepted and agreed to by the -community of men of whom the monk from Cyprus was the chief master. - -Karl meanwhile stared bewilderedly from Féraz to El-Râmi and from -El-Râmi back to Féraz again. Their remarks were totally beyond his -comprehension; he never could understand, and never wanted to -understand, these subtle philosophies. - -“I came to ask you, sir”--he said after a pause--“whether you would -not, now you know all, manage to take away that devilish thing that -killed my master? I’m afraid to touch it myself, and no one else -will--and there it lies up in the ruined tower shining away like a big -lamp, and sticking like a burr to the iron rod I lifted it with, If -it’s any good to you, I’m sure you’d better have it--and by the bye, I -found this, sir, in my master’s room addressed to you.” - -He held out a sealed envelope, which El-Râmi opened. It contained a -folded paper, on which were scratched these lines-- - - “To El-Râmi Zarânos. - - “Good friend, in the event of my death, I beg you to accept all my - possessions such as they are, and do me the one favour I ask, which is - this--Destroy the Disc, and let my problem die with me.” - -This paper, duly signed, bore the date of two years previously. -El-Râmi read it, and handed it to Karl, who read it also. They were -silent for a few minutes; then El-Râmi crossed the room, and, -unlocking a small cupboard in the wall, took out a sealed flask full -of what looked like red wine. - -“See here, Karl”--he said;--“There is no devil in the great stone you -are so afraid of. It is as perishable as anything else in this best of -all possible worlds. It is nothing but a peculiar and rare growth of -crystal, which, though found in the lowest depths of the earth, has -the quality of absorbing light and emitting it. It clings to the iron -rod in the way you speak of because it is a magnet,--and iron not only -attracts but fastens it. It is impossible for me just now to go to -Ilfracombe--besides there is really no necessity for my presence -there. I can fully trust you to bring me the papers and few -possessions of my poor old friend,--and for the rest, you can destroy -the stone yourself--the Disc, as your master called it. All you have -to do is simply to pour this liquid on it,--it will pulverise--that -is, it will crumble into dust while you watch it, and in ten minutes -will be indistinguishable from the fallen mortar of the shattered -tower. Do you understand?” - -Karl’s mouth opened a little in wonderment, and he nodded feebly,--he -found it quite easy and natural to be afraid of the flask containing a -mixture of such potent quality, and he took it from El-Râmi’s hand -very gingerly and reluctantly. A slight smile crossed El-Râmi’s -features as he said-- - -“No, Karl! there is no danger--no fear of pulverisation for _you_. You -can put the phial safely in your pocket,--and though its contents -would pulverise a mountain if used in sufficient quantities,--the -liquid has no effect on flesh and blood.” - -“Pulverise a mountain!” repeated Karl nervously--“Do you mean that it -could turn a mountain into a dust-heap?” - -“Or a city--or a fortress--or a rock-bound coast--or anything in the -shape of stone that you please”--replied El-Râmi carelessly--“but it -will not harm human beings.” - -“Will it not explode, sir?” and Karl still looked at the flask in -doubt. - -“Oh no--it will do its work with extraordinary silence and no less -extraordinary rapidity. Do not be afraid!” - -Slowly and with evident uneasiness Karl put the terrifying composition -into his pocket, deeply impressed by the idea that he had about him -stuff, which, if used in sufficient quantity, could “pulverise a -mountain.” It was awful! worse than dynamite, he considered, his -thoughts flying off wantonly to the woes of Irishmen and Russians. -El-Râmi seemed not to notice his embarrassment and went on talking -quietly, asking various questions concerning Kremlin’s funeral, and -giving advice as to the final arrangements which were necessary, till -presently he inquired of Karl what he proposed doing with himself in -the future. - -“Oh I shall look out for another situation,”--he said--“I shall not go -back to Germany. I like to think of the ‘Fatherland,’ and I can sing -the ‘Wacht am Rhein’ with as much lung as anybody, but I wouldn’t care -to live there. I think I shall try for a place where there’s a lady to -serve; you know, sir, gentlemen’s ways are apt to be monotonous. -Whether they are clever or foolish they always stick to it, whatever -it is. A gentleman that races is always racing, and always talking and -thinking about racing,--a gentleman that drinks is always on the -drink,--a gentleman that coaches is always coaching, and so on; now a -lady _does_ vary! One day she’s all for flowers, another for pictures, -another for china,--sometimes she’s mad about music, sometimes about -dresses,--or else she takes a fit for study, and gets heaps of books -from the libraries. Now for a man-servant all that is very agreeable -and lively.” - -Féraz laughed at this novel view of domestic service, and Karl, -growing a little more cheerful, went on with his explanation-- - -“You see, supposing I get into a lady’s service, I shall have so much -more to distract me. One afternoon I shall be waiting outside a -picture-gallery with her shawls and wraps; another day I shall be -running backwards and forwards to a library,--and then there’s always -the pleasure of never quite knowing what she will do next. And it’s -excitement I want just now--it really is!” - -The corners of his good-humoured mouth drooped again despondently, and -his thoughts reverted with unpleasant suddenness to the “pulverising” -liquid in his pocket. What a terrible thing it was to get acquainted -with scientists! - -El-Râmi listened to his observations patiently. - -“Well, Karl,” he said at last--“I think I can promise you a situation -such as you would like. There is a very famous and lovely lady in -London, known to the reading-world as Irene Vassilius--she writes -original books; is sweetly capricious, yet nobly kind-hearted. I will -write to her about you, and I have no doubt she will give you a -trial.” - -Karl brightened up immensely at this prospect. - -“Thank you, sir!” he said fervently--“You’ve no idea what a deal of -good it will do me to take in the tea to a sweet-looking lady--a -properly-served tea, you know, all silver and good china. It will be a -sort of tonic to me,--it will indeed, after that terrible place at -Ilfracombe. You can tell her I’m a very handy man,--I can do almost -anything, from cooking a chop, up to stretching my legs all day in a -porter’s chair in the hall and reading the latest ‘special.’ Anything -she wishes, whether for show or economy, she couldn’t have a better -hand at it than me;--will you tell her so, sir?” - -“Certainly!” replied El-Râmi with a smile. “I’ll tell her you are a -domestic Von Moltke, and that under your management her household will -be as well ordered as the German army under the great Field-Marshal.” - -After a little more desultory conversation, Karl took his departure, -and returned by the afternoon train to Ilfracombe. He was living with -one of his fisher-friends, and as it was late when he arrived he made -no attempt to go to the deserted house of his deceased master that -night. But early the next morning he hurried there before breakfast, -and ascended to the shattered tower,--that awful scene of desolation -from whence poor Kremlin’s mangled remains had been taken, and where -only a dark stain of blood on the floor silently testified of the -horror that had there been enacted. The Disc, lying prone, glittered -as he approached it, with, as he thought, a fiendish and supernatural -light--the early sunlight fell upon its surface, and a thousand -prismatic tints and sparkles dazzled his eyes as he drew near and -gazed dubiously at it where it still clung to the iron pendulum. What -could his master have used such a strange object for?--what did it -mean? And that solemn humming noise which he had used to hear when the -nights were still,--had that glistening thing been the cause?--had it -any sound? ... Struck by this idea, and filled with a sudden courage, -he seized a piece of thick wire, part of the many tangled coils that -lay among the ruins of roof and wall, and with it gave the Disc a -smart blow on its edge ... hush! ... hush! ... The wire dropped from -his hand, and he stood, almost paralysed with fear. A deep, solemn, -booming sound, like a great cathedral bell, rang through the -air,--grand, and pure and musical, and ... unearthly!--as might be the -clarion stroke of a clock beating out, not the short pulsations of -Time, but the vast throbs of Eternity. Round and round, in eddying -echoes swept that sweet, sonorous note,--till--growing gradually -fainter and fainter, it died entirely away from human hearing, and -seemed to pass out and upwards into the gathering sun-rays that poured -brightly from the east, there to take its place, perchance, in that -immense diapason of vibrating tone-music that fills the star-strewn -space for ever and ever. It was the last sound struck from the great -Star-Dial:--for Karl, terrified at the solemn din, wasted no more time -in speculative hesitation, but, taking the flask El-Râmi had given -him, he opened it tremblingly and poured all its contents on the -surface of the crystal. The red liquid ran over the stone like blood, -crumbling it as it ran and extinguishing its brilliancy,--eating its -substance away as rapidly as vitriol eats away the human -skin,--blistering it and withering it visibly before Karl’s astonished -eyes,--till, as El-Râmi had said, it was hardly distinguishable from -the dust and mortar around it. One piece lasted just a little longer -than the rest--it curled and writhed like a living thing under the -absolutely noiseless and terribly destructive influence of that -blood-like liquid that seemed to sink into it as water sinks into a -sponge,--Karl watched it, fascinated--till all at once it broke into a -sparkle like flame, gleamed, smouldered, leaped high ... -and--disappeared. The wondrous Dial, with its “perpetual motion” and -its measured rhythm, was as if it had never been,--it had vanished as -utterly as a destroyed Planet,--and the mighty Problem reflected on -its surface remained ... and will most likely still remain ... a -mystery unsolved. - - - - - XXXII. - -For two or three weeks after he had received the news of Kremlin’s -death, El-Râmi’s mind was somewhat troubled and uneasy. He continued -his abstruse studies ardently, yet with less interest than usual,--and -he spent hour after hour in Lilith’s room, sitting beside the couch on -which she reposed, saying nothing, but simply watching her, himself -absorbed in thought. Days went by and he never roused her,--never -asked her to reply to any question concerning the deep things of time -and of eternity with which her aërial spirit seemed conversant. He -was more impressed by the suddenness and terror of Kremlin’s end than -he cared to admit to himself,--and the “Light-Maps” and other papers -belonging to his deceased old friend, all of which had now come into -his possession, were concise enough in many marvellous particulars to -have the effect of leading him almost imperceptibly to believe that -after all there was a God,--an actual Being whose magnificent -attributes baffled the highest efforts of the imagination, and who -indeed, as the Bible grandly hath it--“holds the Universe in the -hollow of His hand.” And he began to go back to the Bible for -information;--for he, like most students versed in Eastern -philosophies, knew that all that was ever said or will be said on the -mysteries of life and death is to be found in that Book, which, though -full of much matter that does not pertain to its actual teaching, -remains the one chief epitome of all the wisdom of the world. When it -is once remembered that the Deity of Moses and Aaron was their own -invented hobgoblin, used for the purpose of terrifying and keeping the -Jews in order, much becomes clear that is otherwise impossible to -accept or comprehend. Historians, priests, lawgivers, prophets and -poets have all contributed to the Bible,--and when we detach class -from class and put each in its proper place, without confounding them -all together in an inextricable jumble as “Divine inspiration,” we -obtain a better view of the final intention of the whole. El-Râmi -considered Moses and Aaron in the light of particularly clever Eastern -conjurers,--and not only conjurers, but tacticians and diplomatists, -who had just the qualities necessary to rule a barbarous, ignorant, -and rebellious people. The thunders of Mount Sinai, the graving of the -commandments on tablets of stone,--the serpent in the wilderness,--the -bringing of water out of a rock,--the parting of the sea to let an -army march through; he, El-Râmi, knew how all these things were done, -and was perfectly cognisant of the means and appliances used to -compass all these seemingly miraculous events. - -“What a career I could make if I chose!” he thought--“What wealth I -could amass,--what position! I who know how to quell the wildest waves -of the sea,--I who, by means of a few drops of liquid, can corrode a -name or a device so deeply on stone that centuries shall not efface -it--I who can do so many things that would astonish the vulgar and -make them my slaves,--why am I content to live as I do, when I could -be greater than a crowned king? Why, because I scorn to trick the -ignorant by scientific skill which I have neither the time nor the -patience to explain to them--and again--because I want to fathom the -Impossible;--I want to prove if indeed there is any Impossible. What -_can_ be done and proved, when once it _is_ done and proved, I regard -as nothing,--and because I know how to smooth the sea, call down the -rain, and evoke phantoms out of the atmosphere, I think such -manifestations of power trifling and inadequate. These things are all -_provable_; and the performance of them is attained through a familiar -knowledge of our own earth elements and atmosphere, but to find out -the subtle Something that is not of earth, and has not yet been made -provable,--that is the aim of my ambition. The Soul! What is it? Of -what ethereal composition? of what likeness? of what feeling? of what -capacity? This, and this alone, is the Supreme Mystery,--when once we -understand it, we shall understand God. The preachers waste their time -in urging men and women to save their souls, so long as we remain in -total ignorance as to what the Soul is. We cannot be expected to -take any trouble to “save” or even regard anything so vague and -dubious as the Soul under its present conditions. What is visible and -provable to our eyes is that our friends die, and, to all intents and -purposes, disappear. We never know them as they were any more, ... -and, ... what is still more horrible to think of, but is nevertheless -true,--our natural tendency is to forget them,--indeed, after three or -four years, perhaps less, we should find it difficult, without the aid -of a photograph or painted picture, to recall their faces to our -memories. And it is curious to think of it, but we really remember -their ways, their conversation, and their notions of life better than -their actual physiognomies. All this is very strange and very -perplexing too,--and it is difficult to imagine the reason for such -perpetual tearing down of affections, and such bitter loss and -harassment, unless there is some great Intention behind it all,--an -Intention of which it is arranged we shall be made duly cognisant. If -we are _not_ to be made cognisant,--if we are _not_ to have a full and -perfect Explanation,--then the very fact of Life being lived at all is -a mere cruelty,--a senseless jest which lacks all point,--and the very -grandeur and immensity of the Universe becomes nothing but the meanest -display of gigantic Force remorselessly put forth to overwhelm -creatures who have no power to offer resistance to its huge tyranny. -If I could but fathom that ultimate purpose of things!--if I could but -seize the subtle clue--for I believe it is something very slight and -delicate which by its very fineness we have missed,--something which -has to do with the Eternal Infinitesimal--that marvellous power which -creates animated and regularly organised beings, many thousands of -whose bodies laid together would not extend _one inch_. It is not to -the Infinitely Great one must look for the secret of creation, but to -the Infinitely Little.” - -So he mused, as he sat by the couch of Lilith and watched her sleeping -that enchanted sleep of death-in-life. Old Zaroba, though now -perfectly passive and obedient, and fulfilling all his commands with -scrupulous exactitude, was not without her own ideas and hopes as she -went about her various duties connected with the care of the beautiful -tranced girl. She seldom spoke to Féraz now except on ordinary -household matters, and he understood and silently respected her -reserve. She would sit in her accustomed corner of Lilith’s regal -apartment, weaving her thread-work mechanically, but ever and anon -lifting her burning eyes to look at El-Râmi’s absorbed face and note -the varied expressions she saw, or fancied she saw there. - -“The feverish trouble has begun”--she muttered to herself on one -occasion, as she heard her master sigh deeply--“The stir in the -blood,--the restlessness--the wonder--the desire. And out of heart’s -pain comes heart’s peace;--and out of desire, accomplishment; and -shall not the old gods of the world rejoice to see love born again of -flames and tears and bitter-sweet as in the ancient days? For there is -no love now such as there used to be--the pale Christ has killed -it,--and the red rose aglow with colour and scent is now but a dull -weed on a tame shore, washed by the salt sea, but never warmed by the -sun. In the days of old, in the nights when Ashtaroth was queen of the -silver hours, the youths and maidens knew what it was to love in the -very breath of Love!--and the magic of all Nature, the music of the -woods and waters, the fire of the stars, the odours of the -flowers--all these were in the dance and beat of the young blood, and -in the touch of the soft red lips as they met and clung together in -kisses sweeter than honey in wine. But now--now the world has grown -old and cold, and dreary and joyless,--it is winter among men and the -summer is past.” - -So she would murmur to herself in her wild half-poetical jargon of -language--her voice never rising above an inarticulate whisper. -El-Râmi never heard her or seemed to regard her--he had no eyes -except for the drowsing Lilith. - -If he had been asked, at this particular time, why he went to that -room day after day, to stare silently at his beautiful “subject” and -ponder on everything connected with her, he could not have answered -the question. He did not himself know why. Something there was in him, -as in every portion of created matter, which remained -inexplicable,--something of his own nature which he neither understood -nor cared to analyse. He who sought to fathom the last depth of -research concerning God and the things divine would have been -compelled to own, had he been cross-examined on the matter, that he -found it impossible to fathom himself. The clue to his own Ego was as -desperately hard to seize, as curiously subtle and elusive, as the -clue to the riddle of Creation. He was wont to pride himself on his -consistency--yet in his heart of hearts he knew that in many things he -was inconsistent,--he justly triumphed in his herculean -Will-force,--yet now he was obliged to admit to himself that there was -something in the silent placid aspect of Lilith as she lay before him, -subservient to his command, that quite unnerved him and scattered his -thoughts. It had not used to be so--but now,--it _was_ so. And he -dated the change, whether rightly or wrongly, from the day on which -the monk from Cyprus had visited him, and this thought made him -restless and irritable, and full of unjust and unreasonable -suspicions. For had not the “Master,” as he was known in the community -to which he belonged, said that he had _seen_ the Soul of Lilith, -while he, El-Râmi, had never attained to so beatific an altitude of -vision? Then was it not possible that, notwithstanding his rectitude -and steadfastness of purpose, the “Master,” great and Christ-like in -self-denial though he was, might influence Lilith in some unforeseen -way? Then there was Féraz--Féraz, whose supplications and -protestations had won a smile from the tranced girl, and who therefore -must assuredly have roused in her some faint pleasure and interest. -Such thoughts as these rankled in his mind and gave him no peace--for -they conveyed to him the unpleasing idea that Lilith was not all his -own as he desired her to be,--others had a share in her thoughts. -Could he have nothing entirely to himself? he would demand angrily of -his own inner consciousness--not even this life which he had, as it -were, robbed from death? And an idea, which had at first been the -merest dim suggestion, now deepened into a passionate resolve--he -would _make_ her his own so thoroughly and indissolubly that neither -gods nor devils should snatch her from him. - -“Her life is mine!” he said--“And she shall live as long as I please. -Her body shall sleep, ... if I still choose, ... or ... it shall -_wake_. But whether awake, or sleeping in the flesh, her spirit shall -obey me always--like the satellite of a planet, that disembodied Soul -shall be mine for ever!” - -When he spoke thus to himself, he was sitting in his usual -contemplative attitude by the couch where Lilith lay;--he rose up -suddenly and paced the room, drawing back the velvet portière and -setting open the door of the ante-chamber as though he craved for -fresh air. Music sounded through the house, ... it was Féraz singing. -His full pure tenor voice came floating up, bearing with it the words -he sang: - - “And neither the angels in heaven above, - Nor the demons down under the sea, - Can ever dissever my soul from the soul - Of the beautiful Annabel Lee! - - “For the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes - Of the beautiful Annabel Lee,-- - And the moon never beams without bringing me dreams - Of the beautiful Annabel Lee-- - And so all the night-tide I lie down by the side - Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride, - In her tomb by the sounding sea!” - -With a shaking hand El-Râmi shut the door more swiftly than he had -opened it, and dragged the heavy portière across it to deaden the -sound of that song!--to keep it out from his ears ... from his heart, -... to stop its passionate vibration from throbbing along his nerves -like creeping fire. ... - - “And so all the night-tide I lie down by the side - Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride.” ... - -“God!--my God!” he muttered incoherently--“What ails me? ... Am I -going mad that I should dream thus?” - -He gazed round the room wildly, his hand still clutching the velvet -portière,--and met the keenly watchful glance of Zaroba. Her hands -were mechanically busy with her thread-work,--but her eyes, black, -piercing and brilliant, were fixed on him steadfastly. Something in -her look compelled his attention,--something in his compelled hers. -They stared across the room at each other, as though a Thought had -sprung between them like an armed soldier with drawn sword, demanding -from each the pass-word to a mystery. In and out, across and across -went the filmy glistening threads in Zaroba’s wrinkled hands, but her -eyes never moved from El-Râmi’s face, and she looked like some weird -sorceress weaving a web of destiny. - -“For you were the days of Ashtaroth!” she said in a low, monotonous, -yet curiously thrilling tone--“You are born too late, El-Râmi,--the -youth of the world has departed and the summer seasons of the heart -are known on earth no more. You are born too late--too late!--the -Christ claims all,--the body, the blood, the nerve and the -spirit,--every muscle of His white limbs on the cross must be atoned -for by the dire penance and torture of centuries of men. So that now -even love is a thorn in the flesh and its prick must be paid with a -price,--these are the hours of woe preceding the end. The blood that -runs in your veins, El-Râmi, has sprung from kings and strong rulers -of men,--and the pale faint spirits of this dull day have naught to do -with its colour and glow. And it rebels, O El-Râmi!--as God liveth, -it rebels!--it burns in your heart--the proud, strong heart,--like -ruddy wine in a ruby cup; it rebels, El-Râmi!--it rises to passion as -rise the waves of the sea to the moon, by a force and an impulse in -Nature stronger than yours! Ay, ay!--for you were the days of -Ashtaroth”--and her voice sank into a wailing murmur--“but -now--now--the Christ claims all.” - -He heard her as one may hear incoherencies in a nightmare -vision;--only a few weeks ago he would have been angry with her for -what he would then have termed her foolish jargon,--but he was not -angry now. Why should he be angry? he wondered dully--had he time to -even think of anger while thus unnerved by that keen tremor that -quivered through his frame--a tremor he strove in vain to calm? His -hand fell from the curtain,--the sweet distracting song of Poe’s -“Annabel Lee” had ceased,--and he advanced into the room again, his -heart beating painfully still, his head a little drooped as though -with a sense of conscious shame. He moved slowly to where the roses in -the Venetian vase exhaled their odours on the air, and breaking one -off its branch toyed with it aimlessly, letting its pale pink leaves -flutter down one by one on the violet carpet at his feet. Suddenly, as -though he had resolved a doubt and made up his mind to something, he -turned towards Zaroba, who watched him fixedly,--and with a mute -signal bade her leave the apartment. She rose instantly, and crossing -her hands upon her breast made her customary obeisance and -waited,--for he looked at her with a meditative expression which -implied that he had not yet completed his instructions. Presently, and -with some hesitation, he made her another sign--a sign which had the -effect of awakening a blaze of astonishment in her dark sunken eyes. - -“No more to-night!” she repeated aloud--“It is your will that I return -here no more to-night?” - -He gave a slow but decided gesture of assent,--there was no mistaking -it. - -Zaroba paused an instant, and then with a swift noiseless step went to -the couch of Lilith and bent yearningly above that exquisite sleeping -form. - -“Star of my heart!” she muttered--“Child whose outward fairness I have -ever loved, unheedful of the soul within,--may there still be strength -enough left in the old gods to bid thee wake!” - -El-Râmi caught her words, and a faint smile, proud yet bitter, curved -his delicate lips. - -“The old gods or the new--does it matter which?” he mused -vaguely.--“And what is their strength compared with the Will of Man by -which the very elements are conquered and made the slaves of his -service? ‘My Will is God’s Will’ should be every strong man’s motto. -But I--am I strong--or the weakest of the weak? ... and ... shall the -Christ claim all?” - -The soft fall of the velvet portière startled him as it dropped -behind the retreating figure of Zaroba--she had left the room, and he -was alone,--alone with Lilith. - - - - - XXXIII. - -He remained quite still, standing near the tall vase that held the -clustered roses,--in his hand he grasped unconsciously the stalk of -the one he had pulled to pieces. He was aware of his own strange -passiveness,--it was a sort of inexplicable inertia which like -temporary paralysis seemed to incapacitate him from any action. It -would have appeared well and natural to him that he should stay there -so, dreamily, with the scented rose-stalk in his hand, for any length -of time. A noise in the outer street roused him a little,--the -whistling, hooting, and laughing of drunken men reeling -homewards,--and, lifting his eyes from their studious observation of -the floor, he sighed deeply. - -“That is the way the great majority of men amuse themselves,”--he -mused. “Drink, stupidity, brutality, sensuality--all blatant proofs of -miserable unresisted weakness,--can it be possible that God can care -for such? Could even the pity of Christ pardon such wilful workers of -their own ruin? The pity of Christ, said I?--nay, at times even He was -pitiless. Did He not curse a fig-tree because it was barren?--though -truly we are not told the cause of its barrenness. Of course the -lesson is that Life--the fig-tree--has no right to be barren of -results,--but why curse it, if it is? What is the use of a curse at -any time? And what, may equally be asked, is the use of a blessing? -Neither are heard; the curse is seldom, if ever, wreaked,--and the -blessing, so the sorrowful say, is never granted.” - -The noise and the laughter outside died away,--and a deep silence -ensued. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, and noted his own -reflective attitude,--his brooding visage; and studied himself -critically as he would have studied a picture. - -“You are no Antinous, my friend”--he said aloud, addressing his own -reflection with some bitterness--“A mere suntanned Oriental with a -pair of eyes in which the light is more of hell than heaven. What -should you do with yourself, frowning at Fate? You are a superb -egoist,--no more.” - -As he spoke, the roses in the vase beside him swayed lightly to and -fro, as though a faint wind had fanned them, and their perfume stole -upon the air like the delicate breath of summer wafted from some -distant garden. - -There was no window open--and El-Râmi had not stirred, so that no -movement on his part could have shaken the vase,--and yet the roses -quivered on their stalks as if brushed by a bird’s wing. He watched -them with a faint sense of curiosity--but with no desire to discover -why they thus nodded their fair heads to an apparently causeless -vibration. He was struggling with an emotion that threatened to -overwhelm him,--he knew that he was not master of himself,--and -instinctively he kept his face turned away from the tranced Lilith. - -“I must not look upon her--I dare not;” he whispered to the -silence--“Not yet--not yet.” - -There was a low chair close by, and he dropped into it wearily, -covering his eyes with one hand. He tried to control his thoughts--but -they were rebellious, and ran riot in spite of him. The words of -Zaroba rang in his ears--“For you were the days of Ashtaroth.” The -days of Ashtaroth!--for what had they been renowned? For Jove and the -feasts of love,--for mirth and song and dance--for crowns of flowers, -for shouting of choruses and tinkling of cymbals, for exquisite luxury -and voluptuous pleasures,--for men and women who were not ashamed of -love and took delight in loving;--were there not better, warmer ways -of life in those old times than now--now when cautious and timid souls -make schemes for marriage as they scheme for wealth,--when they -snigger at “love” as though it were some ludicrous defect in mortal -composition, and when real passion of any kind is deemed downright -improper, and not to be spoken of before cold and punctilious society? - -“Ay, but the passion is there all the same;”--thought El-Râmi--“Under -the ice burns the fire,--all the fiercer and the more dangerous for -its repression.” - -And he still kept his hand over his eyes, thinking. - -“The Christ claims all”--had said Zaroba. Nay, what has Christ done -that He should claim all? “He died for us!” cry the preachers. -Well,--others can die also. “He was Divine!” proclaim the churches. We -are all Divine, if we will but let the Divinity in us have way. And -moved by these ideas, El-Râmi rose up and crossed to a niche in the -purple-pavilioned walls of the room, before which hung a loose breadth -of velvet fringed with gold,--this he drew aside, and disclosed a -picture very finely painted, of Christ standing near the sea, -surrounded by His disciples--underneath it were inscribed the -words--“Whom say ye that I am?” - -The dignity and beauty of the face and figure were truly marvellous, -the expression of the eyes had something of pride as well as -sweetness, and El-Râmi confronted it as he had confronted it many -times before, with a restless inquisitiveness. - -“Whom say ye that I am?” - -The painted Christ seemed to audibly ask the question. - -“O noble Mystery of a Man, I cannot tell!” exclaimed El-Râmi suddenly -and aloud--“I cannot say who you are, or who you were. A riddle for -all the world to wonder at,--a white Sphinx with a smile -inscrutable,--all the secrets of Egypt are as nothing to your secret, -O simple, pure-souled Nazarene! You, born in miserable plight in -miserable Bethlehem, changed the aspect of the world, altered and -purified the modes of civilisation, and thrilled all life with higher -motives for work than it had ever been dowered with before. All this -in three years’ work, ending in a criminal’s death! Truly, if there -was not something Divine in you, then God Himself is an error!” - -The grand face seemed to smile upon him with a deep and solemn pity, -and “Whom say ye that I am?” sounded in his ears as though it were -spoken by some one in the room. - -“I must be getting nervous;”--he muttered, drawing the curtain softly -over the picture again, and looking uneasily round about him, “I think -I cannot be much more than the weakest of men,--after all.” - -A faint tremor seized him as he turned slowly but resolutely round -towards the couch of Lilith, and let his eyes rest on her enchanting -loveliness. Step by step he drew nearer and nearer till he bent -closely over her, but he did not call her by name. A loose mass of her -hair lay close to his arm,--with an impetuous suddenness he gathered -it in his hands and kissed it. - -“A sheaf of sunbeams!”--he whispered, his lips burning as they -caressed the shining wealth of silken curls--“A golden web in which -kisses might be caught and killed! Ah Heaven, have pity on me!” and he -sank by the couch, stifling his words beneath his breath--“If I love -this girl--if all this mad tumult in my soul is Love--let her never -know it, O merciful Fates!--or she is lost, and so am I. Let me be -bound,--let her be free,--let me fight down my weakness, but let her -never know that I am weak, or I shall lose her long obedience. No, no! -I will not summon her to me now--it is best she should be -absent,--this body of hers, this fair fine casket of her spirit is but -a dead thing when that spirit is elsewhere. She cannot hear me,--she -does not see me--no, not even when I lay this hand--this ‘shadow of a -hand,’ as she once called it, here, to quell my foolish murmurings.” - -And, lifting Lilith’s hand as he spoke, he pressed its roseate palm -against his lips,--then on his forehead. A strange sense of relief and -peace came upon him with the touch of those delicate fingers--it was -as though a cool wind blew, bringing freshness from some quiet -mountain lake or river. Silently he knelt,--and presently, somewhat -calmed, lifted his eyes again to look at Lilith,--she smiled in her -deep trance--she was the very picture of some happy angel sleeping. -His arm sank in the soft satin coverlet as he laid back the little -hand he held upon her breast,--and with eager scrutiny he noted every -tint and every line in her exquisite face;--the lovely long lashes -that swept the blush-rose of her cheeks,--the rounded chin, dimpled in -its curve,--the full white throat, the perfect outline of the whole -fair figure as it rested like a branched lily in a bed of snow,--and, -as he looked, he realised that all this beauty was his--his, if he -chose to take Love and let Wisdom go. If he chose to resign the chance -of increasing his knowledge of the supernatural,--if he were content -to accept earth for what it is, and heaven for what it may be, Lilith, -the bodily incarnation of loveliness, purity and perfect womanhood, -was his--his only. He grew dizzy at the thought,--then by an effort -conquered the longing of his heart. He remembered what he had sworn to -do,--to discover the one great secret before he seized the joy that -tempted him,--to prove the actual, individual, conscious existence of -the Being that is said to occupy a temporary habitation in flesh. He -knew and he saw the body of Lilith,--he must know, and he must _see_ -her Soul. And while he leaned above her couch, entranced, a sudden -strain of music echoed through the stillness,--music solemn and sweet, -that stirred the air into rhythmic vibrations as of slow and sacred -psalmody. He listened, perplexed but not afraid,--he was not afraid of -anything in earth or heaven save--himself. He knew that man has his -worst enemy in his own Ego,--beyond that, there is very little in life -that need give cause for alarm. He had, till now, been able to -practise the stoical philosophy of an Epictetus while engaged in -researches that would have puzzled the brain of a Plato,--but his -philosophy was just now at fault and his self-possession gone to the -four winds of heaven--and why? He knew not--but he was certain the -fault lay in himself, and not in others. Of an arrogant temper and a -self-reliant haughty disposition he had none of that low cowardice -which people are guilty of, who, finding themselves in a dilemma, cast -the blame at once on others, or on “circumstances” which, after all, -were most probably of their own creating. And the strange music that -ebbed and flowed in sonorous pulsations through the air around him -troubled him not at all,--he attributed it at once to something or -other that was out of order in his own mental perceptions. He knew -how, in certain conditions of the brain, some infinitesimal trifle -gone wrong in the aural nerves will persuade one that trumpets are -blowing, violins playing, birds singing or bells ringing in the -distance,--just as a little disorder of the visual organs will help to -convince one of apparitions. He knew how to cast a “glamour” better -than any so-called “theosophist” in full practice of his -trickery,--and, being thus perfectly aware how the human sense can be -deceived, listened to the harmonious sounds he heard with speculative -interest, wondering how long this “fancy” of his would last. Much more -startled was he when amid the rising and falling of the mysterious -melody he heard the voice of Lilith saying softly in her usual -manner-- - -“I am here!” - -His heart beat rapidly, and he rose slowly from his kneeling position -by her side. “I did not call you, Lilith!” he said tremblingly. - -“No!” and her sweet lips smiled--“you did not call, ... I came!” - -“Why did you come?” he asked, still faintly. - -“For my own joy and yours!” she answered in thrilling tones--“Sweeter -than all the heavens is Love, and Love is here!” - -An icy cold crept through him as he heard the rapture in her -accents,--such rapture!--like that of a lark singing in the sunlight -on a fresh morning of May. And like the dim sound of a funeral bell -came the words of the monk, tolling solemnly across his memory, in -spite of his efforts to forget them, “With Lilith’s love comes -Lilith’s freedom.” - -“No, no!” he muttered within himself--“It cannot be,--it shall not -be!--she is mine, mine only. Her fate is in my hands; if there be -justice in Heaven, who else has so much right to her body or her soul -as I?” - -And he stood, gazing irresolutely at the girl, who stirred restlessly -and flung her white arms upward on her pillows, while the music he had -heard suddenly ceased. He dared not speak,--he was afraid to express -any desire or impose any command upon this “fine sprite” which had for -six years obeyed him, but which might now, for all he could tell, be -fluttering vagrantly on the glittering confines of realms far beyond -his ken. - -Her lips moved,--and presently she spoke again. - -“Wonderful are the ways of Divine Law!” she murmured softly--“and -infinite are the changes it works among its creatures! An old man, -despised and poor, by friends rejected, perplexed in mind, but pure in -soul; such Was the Spirit that now Is. Passing me flame-like on its -swift way heavenward,--saved and uplifted, not by Wisdom, but by -Love.” - -El-Râmi listened, awed and puzzled. Her words surely seemed to bear -some reference to Kremlin? - -“Of the knowledge of the stars and the measuring of light there is -more than enough in the Universe;”--went on Lilith dreamily--“but of -faithful love, such as keeps an Angel for ever by one’s side, there is -little; therefore the Angels on earth are few.” - -He could no longer restrain his curiosity. - -“Do you speak of one who is dead, Lilith?” he asked--“One whom I -knew----” - -“I speak of one who is living,”--she replied--“and one whom you -_know_. For none are dead; and Knowledge has no Past, but is all -Present.” - -Her voice sank into silence. El-Râmi bent above her, studying her -countenance earnestly--her lashes trembled as though the eyelids were -about to open,--but the tremor passed and they remained shut. How -lovely she looked!--how more than lovely! - -“Lilith!” he whispered, suddenly oblivious of all his former -forebodings, and unconscious of the eager passion vibrating in his -tone--“Sweet Lilith!” - -She turned slightly towards him, and, lifting her arms from their -indolently graceful position on the pillows, she clasped her hands -high above her head in apparent supplication. - -“Love me!” she cried, with such a thrill in her accent that it rang -through the room like a note of music--“Oh my Belovëd, love me!” - -El-Râmi grew faint and dizzy,--his thoughts were all in a whirl, ... -was he made of marble or ice that he should not respond? Scarcely -aware of what he did, he took her clasped hands in his own. - -“And do I not, Lilith?” he murmured, half anguished, half -entranced--“Do I not love you?” - -“No, no!” said Lilith with passionate emphasis--“Not me,--not me, -Myself! Oh my Belovëd! love Me, not my Shadow!” - -He loosened her hands, and recoiled, awed and perplexed. Her appeal -struck at the core of all his doubts,--and for one moment he was -disposed to believe in the actual truth of the Immortal Soul without -those “proofs” for which he constantly searched,--the next he rallied -himself on his folly and weakness. He dared not trust himself to -answer her, so he was silent,--but she soon spoke again with such -convincing earnestness of tone that almost ... almost he believed--but -not quite. - -“To love the Seeming and not the Real,”--she said--“is the curse of -all sad Humanity. It is the glamour of the air,--the barrier between -Earth and Heaven. The Body is the Shadow--the Soul is the Substance. -The Reflection I cast on Earth’s surface for a little space is but a -Reflection only,--it is not Me:--I am beyond it!” - -For a moment El-Râmi stood irresolute,--then gathering up his -scattered thoughts, he began to try and resolve them into order and -connection. Surely the time was ripe for his great Experiment?--and, -as he considered this, his nerves grew more steady,--his self-reliance -returned--all his devotion to scientific research pressed back its -claim upon his mind,--if he were to fail now, he thought, after all -his patience and study,--fail to obtain any true insight into the -spiritual side of humanity, would he not be ashamed, ay, and degraded -in his own eyes? He resolved to end all his torture of pain and doubt -and disquietude,--and, sitting on the edge of Lilith’s couch, he drew -her delicate hands down from their uplifted position, and laid them -one above the other cross-wise on his own breast. - -“Then you must teach me, Lilith”--he said softly and with tender -persuasiveness--“you must teach me to know you. If I see but your -Reflection here,--let me behold your Reality. Let me love you as you -are, if now I only love you as you seem. Show yourself to me in all -your spiritual loveliness, Lilith!--it may be I shall die of the -glory,--or--if there is no death as you say,--I shall not die, but -simply pass away into the light which gives you life. Lift the veil -that is between us, Lilith, and let me see you face to face. If this -that _seems_ you”--and he pressed the little hands he held--“is -naught, let me realise the nothingness of so much beauty beside the -greater beauty that engenders it. Come to me as you _are_, -Lilith!--come!” - -As he spoke, his heart beat fast with a nervous thrill of expectancy; -what would she answer? ... what would she do? He could not take his -eyes from her face--he half fancied he should see some change there; -for the moment he even thought it possible that she might transform -herself into some surpassing Being, which, like the gods of the Greek -mythology, should consume by its flame-like splendour whatever of -mortality dared to look upon it. But she remained unaltered, and -sculpturally calm,--only her breathing seemed a little quicker, and -the hands that he held trembled against his breast. - -Her next words, however, startled him-- - -“I will come!” she said, and a faint sigh escaped her lips--“Be ready -for me. Pray!--pray for the blessing of Christ,--for, if Christ be -with us, all is well.” - -At this, his brow clouded,--his eyes drooped gloomily. - -“Christ!” he muttered more to himself than to her--“What is He to me? -Who is He that He should be with us?” - -“This world’s rescue and all worlds’ glory!” - -The answer rang out like a silver clarion, with something full and -triumphant in the sound, as though not only Lilith’s voice had uttered -it, but other voices had joined in a chorus. At the same moment, her -hands moved, as if in an effort to escape from his hold. But he held -them closely in a jealous and masterful grasp. - -“When will you come to me, Lilith?” he demanded in low but eager -accents--“When shall I see you and know you as Lilith? ... _my_ -Lilith, my own for ever?” - -“God’s Lilith--God’s own for ever!” murmured Lilith dreamily, and then -was silent. - -An angry sense of rebellion began to burn in El-Râmi’s mind. -Summoning up all the force of his iron will, he unclasped her hands -and laid them back on each side of her, and placed his own hand on her -breast, just where the ruby talisman shone and glowed. - -“Answer me, Lilith!” he said, with something of the old sternness -which he had used to employ with her on former occasions--“When will -you come to me?” - -Her limbs trembled violently as though some inward cold convulsed her, -and her answer came slowly, though clearly-- - -“When you are ready.” - -“I am ready now!” he cried recklessly. - -“No--no!” she murmured, her voice growing fainter and fainter--“Not -yet ... not yet! Love is not strong enough, high enough, pure enough. -Wait, watch and pray. When the hour has come, a sign will be -given--but O my Belovëd, if you would know me, love Me--love Me! not -my Shadow!” - -A pale hue fell on her face, robbing it of its delicate -tint,--El-Râmi knew what that pallor indicated. - -“Lilith! Lilith!” he exclaimed, “why leave me thus if you love me? -Stay with me yet a little!” - -But Lilith--or rather the strange Spirit that made the body of Lilith -speak,--was gone. And all that night not another sound, either of -music or speech, stirred the silence of the room. Dawn came, misty and -gray, and found the proud El-Râmi kneeling before the unveiled -picture of the Christ,--not praying, for he could not bring himself -down to the necessary humiliation for prayer,--but simply wondering -vaguely as to what _could_ be and what _might_ be the one positive -reply to that question propounded of old-- - -“Whom Say Ye That I Am?” - - - - - XXXIV. - -Of what avail is it to propound questions that no one can answer? Of -what use is it to attempt to solve the mystery of life which must for -ever remain mysterious? Thus may the intelligent critic ask, and, in -asking, may declare that the experiments, researches, and anxieties of -El-Râmi, together with El-Râmi himself, are mistaken conceptions all -round. But it is necessary to remind the intelligent critic that the -eager desire of El-Râmi to prove what appears unprovable is by no -means an uncommon phase of human nature,--it is in fact the very -key-note and pulse of the present time. Every living creature who is -not too stunned by misery for thought craves to know positively -whether the Soul,--the Immortal, Individual Ego, be Fable or Fact. -Never more than in this, our own period, did people search with such -unabated feverish yearning into the things that seem -supernatural;--never were there bitterer pangs of recoil and -disappointment when trickery and imposture are found to have even -temporarily passed for truth. If the deepest feeling in every human -heart to-day were suddenly given voice, the shout “Excelsior!” would -rend the air in mighty chorus. For we know all the old earth -stories;--of love, of war, of adventure, of wealth, we know pretty -well the beginning and the end,--we read in our histories of nations -that were, but now are not, and we feel that we shall in due time go -the same way with them,--that the wheel of Destiny spins on in the -same round always, and that nothing--nothing can alter its relentless -and monotonous course. We tread in the dust and among the fallen -columns of great cities and we vaguely wonder if the spirits of the -men that built them are indeed no more,--we gaze on the glorious pile -of the Duomo at Milan and think of the brain that first devised and -planned its majestic proportions, and ask ourselves--Is it possible -that this, the creation, should be Here, and its creator Nowhere? -Would such an arrangement be reasonable or just? And so it happens -that when the wielders of the pen essay to tell us of wars, of -shipwrecks, of hair-breadth escapes from danger, of love and politics -and society, we read their pages with merely transitory pleasure and -frequent indifference, but when they touch upon subjects beyond -earthly experience,--when they attempt, however feebly, to lift our -inspirations to the possibilities of the Unseen, then we give them our -eager attention and almost passionate interest. Critics look upon this -tendency as morbid, unwholesome and pernicious; but nevertheless the -tendency is there,--the demand for “Light! more light!” is in the very -blood and brain of the people. It would seem as though this world has -grown too narrow for the aspirations of its inhabitants;--and some of -us instinctively feel that we are on the brink of strange discoveries -respecting the powers unearthly, whether for good or evil we dare not -presume to guess. The nonsensical tenets of “Theosophy” would not gain -ground with a single individual man or woman were not this feeling -very strong among many,--the tricky “mediums” and “spiritualists” -would not have a chance of earning a subsistence out of the -gullibility of their dupes, and the preachers of new creeds and new -forms would obtain no vestige of attention if it were not for the fact -that there is a very general impression all over the world that the -time is ripe for a clearer revelation of God and the things of God -than we have ever had before. “Give us something that will endure!” is -the exclamation of weary humanity--“The things we have, pass; and, by -reason of their ephemeral nature, are worthless. Give us what we can -keep and call our own for ever!” This is why we try and test all -things that _appear_ to give proof of the super-sensual element in -man,--and when we find ourselves deceived by impostors and conjurers -our disgust and disappointment are too bitter to ever find vent in -words. The happiest are those who, in the shifting up and down of -faiths and formulas, ever cling steadfastly to the one pure example of -embodied Divinity in Manhood as seen in Christ. When we reject Christ, -we reject the Gospel of Love and Universal Brotherhood, without which -the ultimate perfection and progress of the world must ever remain -impossible. - -A few random thoughts such as these occurred to El-Râmi now and then -as he lived his life from day to day in perpetual expectation of the -“sign” promised by Lilith, which as yet was not forthcoming. He -believed she would keep her word, and that the “sign” whatever it was -would be unmistakable; and,--as before stated--this was the nearest -approach to actual faith he had ever known. His was a nature which was -originally disposed to faith, but which had persistently fought with -its own inclination till that inclination had been conquered. He had -been able to prove as purely natural much that had _seemed_ -supernatural, and he now viewed everything from two -points--Possibility and Impossibility. His various confusions and -perplexities, however, generally arose from the frequent discovery he -made that what he had once thought the Impossible suddenly became, -through some small chance clue, the Possible. So many times had this -occurred that he often caught himself wondering whether anything in -very truth could be strictly declared as “impossible.” And yet, ... -with the body of Lilith under his observation for six years, and an -absolute ignorance as to _how_ her intelligence had developed, or -_where_ she obtained the power to discourse with him as she did, he -always had the lurking dread that her utterances might be the result -of _his own brain unconsciously working upon hers_, and that there was -no “soul” or “spirit” in the matter. This, too, in spite of the fact -that she had actually given him a concise description of certain -planets, their laws, their government, and their inhabitants, -concerning which _he_ could know nothing,--and that she spoke with a -sure conviction of the existence of a personal God, an idea that was -entirely unacceptable to _his_ nature. He was at a loss to explain her -“separated consciousness” in any scientific way, and, afraid of -himself lest he should believe too easily, he encouraged the presence -of every doubt in his mind, rather than give entrance to more than the -palest glimmer of faith. - -And so time went on, and May passed into June, and June deepened into -its meridian glow of bloom and sunlight, and he remained shut up -within the four walls of his house, seeing no one, and displaying a -total indifference to the fact that the “season” with all its bitter -froth and frivolity was seething on in London in its usual monotonous -manner. Unlike pretenders to “spiritualistic” powers, he had no -inclination for the society of the rich and great,--“titled” people -had no attraction for him save in so far as they were cultured, witty, -or amiable,--“position” in the world was a very miserable trifle in -his opinion, and, though many a gorgeous flunkied carriage at this -time found its way into the unfashionable square where he had his -domicile, no visitors were admitted to see him,--and “too busy to -receive any one” was the formula with which young Féraz dismissed any -would-be intruder. Yet Féraz himself wondered all the while how it -was that, as a matter of fact, El-Râmi seemed to be just now less -absorbed in actual study than he had ever been in his whole life. He -read no books save the old Arabic vellum-bound volume which held the -explanatory key to so many curious phenomena palmed off as “spiritual -miracles” by the theosophists, and he wrote a good deal,--but he -answered no letters, accepted no invitations, manifested no wish to -leave the house even for an hour’s stroll, and seemed mentally -engrossed by some great secret subject of meditation. He was uniformly -kind to Féraz, exacting no duties from him save those prompted by -interest and affection,--he was marvellously gentle too with Zaroba, -who, agitated, restless and perplexed as to his ultimate intentions -with respect to the beautiful Lilith, was vaguely uneasy and -melancholy, though she deemed it wisest to perform all his commands -with exactitude, and, for the present, to hold her peace. She had -expected something--though she knew not what--from his last interview -with her beautiful charge--but all was unchanged,--Lilith slept on, -and the cherished wish of Zaroba’s heart, that she should wake, seemed -as far off realisation as ever. Day after day passed, and El-Râmi -lived like a hermit amidst the roar and traffic of mighty -London,--watching Lilith for long and anxious hours, but never -venturing to call her down to him from wherever she might -be,--waiting, waiting for _her_ summons, and content for once to sink -himself in the thought of _her_ identity. All his ambitions were now -centred on the one great object, ... to see the Soul, _as_ it is, _if_ -it is indeed existent, conscious and individual. For, as he argued, -what is the use of a “Soul” whose capacities we are not permitted to -understand?--and if it be no more to us than the intelligent faculty -of brain? The chief proof of a possible something behind Man’s inner -consciousness was, he considered, the quality of Discontent, and, -primarily, because Discontent is so universal. No one is contented in -all the world from end to end. From the powerful Emperor on his throne -to the whining beggar in the street, all chafe under the goading prick -of the great Necessity,--a something better,--a something lasting. Why -should this resonant key-note of Discontent be perpetually resounding -through space, if this life is all? No amount of philosophy or -argument can argue away Discontent--it is a god-like disquietude ever -fermenting changes among us, ever propounding new suggestions for -happiness, ever restless, never satisfied. And El-Râmi would ask -himself--Is Discontent the voice of the Soul?--not only the Universal -Soul of things, but the Soul of each individual? Then, if individual, -why should not the individual be made manifest, if manifestation be -possible? And if not possible, why should we be called upon to believe -in what cannot be manifested? - -Thus he argued, not altogether unwisely; he had studied profoundly all -the divers conflicting theories of religion, and would at one time -have become an obstinately confirmed Positivist, had it not been for -the fact that the further his researches led him the more he became -aware that there was nothing positive,--that is to say, nothing so -apparently fixed and unalterable that it might not, under different -conditions, prove capable of change. Perhaps there is no better test -example of this truth than the ordinary substance known as iron. We -use in common parlance unthinkingly the phrase “as hard as -iron”--while to the smith and engineer, who mould and twist it in -every form, it proves itself soft and malleable as wax. Again, to the -surface observer, it might and does seem an incombustible metal,--the -chemist knows it will burn with the utmost fury. How then form a -_universal_ decision as to its various capabilities when it has so -many variations of use all in such contrary directions? The same -example, modified or enlarged, will be found to apply to all things, -wherefore the word “Positivism” seems out of place in merely mortal -language. God may be “positive,” but we and our surroundings have no -such absolute quality. - -During this period of El-Râmi’s self-elected seclusion and meditation -his young brother Féraz was very happy. He was in the midst of -writing a poem which he fondly fancied might perhaps--only -perhaps--find a publisher to take it and launch it on its own -merits,--it is the privilege of youth to be over-sanguine. Then, too, -his brain was filled with new musical ideas,--and many an evening’s -hour he beguiled away by delicious improvisations on the piano, or -exquisite songs to the mandoline. El-Râmi, when he was not upstairs -keeping anxious vigil by the tranced Lilith’s side, would sit in his -chair, leaning back with half-closed eyes, listening to the entrancing -melodies like another Saul to a new David, soothed by the sweetness of -the sounds he heard, yet conscious that he took too deep and ardent a -pleasure in hearing, when the songs Féraz chose were of love. One -night Féraz elected to sing the wild and beautiful “Canticle of Love” -written by the late Lord Lytton, when as “Owen Meredith” he promised -to be one of the greatest poets of our century, and who would have -fulfilled more than that promise if diplomacy had not claimed his -brilliant intellectual gifts for the service of his country,--a -country which yet deplores his untimely loss. But no fatality had as -yet threatened that gallant and noble life in the days when Féraz -smote the chords of his mandoline and sang: - - “I once heard an angel by night in the sky - Singing softly a song to a deep golden lute; - The pole-star, the seven little planets and I - To the song that he sang listened mute, - For the song that he sang was so strange and so sweet, - And so tender the tones of his lute’s golden strings, - That the seraphs of heaven sat hush’d at his feet - And folded their heads in their wings. - And the song that he sang to the seraphs up there - Is called ‘Love’! But the words ... I had heard them elsewhere. - - “For when I was last in the nethermost Hell, - On a rock ’mid the sulphurous surges I heard - A pale spirit sing to a wild hollow shell; - And his song was the same, every word, - And so sad was his singing, all Hell to the sound - Moaned, and wailing, complained like a monster in pain - While the fiends hovered near o’er the dismal profound - With their black wings weighed down by the strain; - And the song that was sung to the Lost Ones down there - Is called ‘Love’! But the spirit that sang was Despair!” - -The strings of the mandoline quivered mournfully in tune with the -passionate beauty of the verse, and from El-Râmi’s lips there came -involuntarily a deep and bitter sigh. - -Féraz ceased playing and looked at him. - -“What is it?” he asked anxiously. - -“Nothing!” replied his brother in a tranquil voice--“What should there -be? Only the poem is very beautiful, and out of the common,--though, -to me, terribly suggestive of--a mistake somewhere in creation. Love -to the Saved--Love to the Lost!--naturally it would have different -aspects,--but it is an anomaly--Love, to be true to its name, should -have no ‘lost’ ones in its chronicle.” - -Féraz was silent. - -“Do you believe”--continued El-Râmi--“that there is a ‘nethermost -Hell’?--a place or a state of mind resembling that ‘rock ’mid the -sulphurous surges’?” - -“I should imagine,” replied Féraz with some diffidence, “that there -must be a condition in which we are bound to look back and see where -we were wrong,--a condition, too, in which we have time to be -sorry----” - -“Unfair and unreasonable!” exclaimed his brother hotly. “For, suppose -we did not _know_ we were wrong? We are left absolutely without -guidance in this world to do as we like.” - -“I do not think you can quite say that”--remonstrated Féraz -gently--“We _do_ know when we are wrong--generally; some instinct -tells us so--and, while we have the book of Nature, we are not left -without guidance. As for looking back and seeing our former mistakes, -I think that is unquestionable,--for as I grow older I begin to see -where I failed in my former life, and how I deserved to lose my -star-kingdom.” - -El-Râmi looked impatient. - -“You are a dreamer”--he said decisively--“and your star-kingdom is a -dream also. You cannot tell me truthfully that you remember anything -of a former existence?” - -“I am beginning to remember,” said Féraz steadily. - -“My dear boy, anybody but myself hearing you would say you were -mad--hopelessly mad!” - -“They would be at perfect liberty to say so”--and Féraz smiled a -little--“Every one is free to have his own opinion--I have mine. My -star exists; and I once existed in it--so did you.” - -“Well, I know nothing about it then,” declared El-Râmi--“I have -forgotten it utterly.” - -“Oh no! You think you have forgotten”--said Féraz mildly--“But the -truth is, your very knowledge of science and other things is -only--_memory_.” - -El-Râmi moved in his chair impatiently. - -“Let us not argue;”--he said--“We shall never agree. Sing to me -again!” - -Féraz thought a moment, and then laid aside his mandoline and went to -the piano, where he played a rushing rapid accompaniment like the -sound of the wind among trees, and sang the following: - - “Winds of the mountain, mingle with my crying, - Clouds of the tempest, flee as I am flying, - Gods of the cloudland, Christus and Apollo, - Follow, O follow! - - “Through the dark valleys, up the misty mountains, - Over the black wastes, past the gleaming fountains, - Praying not, hoping not, resting nor abiding, - Lo, I am riding! - - “Clangour and anger of elements are round me, - Torture has clasped me, cruelty has crown’d me, - Sorrow awaits me, Death is waiting with her, - Fast speed I thither. - - * * * * * * - - “Gods of the storm-cloud, drifting darkly yonder, - Point fiery hands and mock me as I wander; - Gods of the forest glimmer out upon me, - Shrink back and shun me. - - “Gods, let them follow!--gods, for I defy them! - They call me, mock me, but I gallop by them; - If they would find me, touch me, whisper to me, - Let them pursue me!” - -He was interrupted in the song by a smothered cry from El-Râmi, and -looking round, startled, he saw his brother standing up and staring at -him with something of mingled fear and horror. He came to an abrupt -stop, his hands resting on the piano-keys. - -“Go on, go on!” cried El-Râmi irritably. “What wild chant of the gods -and men have you there? Is it your own?” - -“Mine!” echoed Féraz--“No indeed! Why? Do you not like it?” - -“Of course, of course I like it;”--said El-Râmi, sitting down again, -angry with himself for his own emotion--“Is there more of it?” - -“Yes, but I need not finish it,”--and Féraz made as though he would -rise from the piano. - -El-Râmi suddenly began to laugh. - -“Go on, I tell you, Féraz”--he said carelessly--“There is a tempest -of agitation in the words and in your music that leaves one hurried -and breathless, but the sensation is not unpleasant,--especially when -one is prepared, ... go on!--I want to hear the end of this ... -this--defiance.” - -Féraz looked at him to see if he were in earnest, and, perceiving he -had settled down to give his whole attention to the rest of the -ballad, he resumed his playing, and again the rush of the music filled -the room. - - “Faster, O faster! Darker and more dreary - Groweth the pathway, yet I am not weary-- - Gods, I defy them! gods, I can unmake them, - Bruise them and break them! - - “White steed of wonder with thy feet of thunder, - Find out their temples, tread their high-priests under-- - Leave them behind thee--if their gods speed after, - Mock them with laughter. - - * * * * * * - - “Shall a god grieve me? shall a phantom win me? - Nay!--by the wild wind around and o’er and in me-- - Be his name Vishnu, Christus or Apollo-- - Let the god follow! - - “Clangour and anger of elements are round me, - Torture has clasped me, cruelty has crown’d me, - Sorrow awaits me, Death is waiting with her, - Fast speed I thither!” - -The music ceased abruptly with a quick clash as of jangling -bells,--and Féraz rose from the piano. - -El-Râmi was sitting quite still. - -“A mad outburst!” he remarked presently, seeing that his young brother -waited for him to speak--“_Do you believe it?_” - -“Believe what?” asked Féraz, a little surprised. - -“This----” and El-Râmi quoted slowly-- - - “‘Shall a god grieve me? shall a phantom win me? - Nay!--by the wild wind around and o’er and in me-- - Be his name Vishnu, Christus or Apollo-- - Let the god follow!’ - -“Do you think”--he continued, “that in the matter of life’s leadership -the ‘god’ should follow, or we the god?” - -Féraz lifted his delicately-marked eyebrows in amazement. - -“What an odd question!” he said--“The song is _only_ a song,--part of -a long epic poem. And we do not receive a mere poem as a gospel. And, -if you speak of life’s leadership, it is devoutly to be hoped that God -not only leads but rules us all.” - -“Why should you hope it?” asked El-Râmi gloomily--“Myself, I fear -it!” - -Féraz came to his side and rested one hand affectionately on his arm. - -“You are worried and out of sorts, my brother,”--he said gently--“Why -do you not seek some change from so much indoor life? You do not even -get the advantages I have of going to and fro on the household -business. I breathe the fresh air every day,--surely it is necessary -for you also?” - -“My dear boy, I am perfectly well”--and El-Râmi regarded him -steadily--“Why should you doubt it? I am only--a little tired. Poor -human nature cannot always escape fatigue.” - -Féraz said no more,--but there was a certain strangeness in his -brother’s manner that filled him with an indefinable uneasiness. In -his own quiet fashion he strove to distract El-Râmi’s mind from the -persistent fixity of whatever unknown purpose seemed to so -mysteriously engross him,--and whenever they were together at meals or -at other hours of the day he talked in as light and desultory a way as -possible on all sorts of different topics in the hope of awakening his -brother’s interest more keenly in external affairs. He read much and -thought more, and was a really brilliant conversationalist when he -chose, in spite of his dreamy fancies--but he was obliged to admit to -himself that his affectionate endeavours met with very slight success. -True, El-Râmi _appeared_ to give his attention to all that was said, -but it was only an appearance,--and Féraz saw plainly enough that he -was not really moved to any sort of feeling respecting the ways and -doings of the outer world. And when, one morning, Féraz read aloud -the account of the marriage of Sir Frederick Vaughan, Bart., with -Idina, only daughter of Jabez Chester of New York, he only smiled -indifferently and said nothing. - -“We were invited to that wedding;”--commented Féraz. - -“Were we?” El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders and seemed totally -oblivious of the fact. - -“Why of course we were”--went on Féraz cheerfully--“And at your -bidding I opened and read the letter Sir Frederick wrote you, which -said that as you had prophesied the marriage he would take it very -kindly if you would attend in person the formal fulfilment of your -prophecy. And all you did in reply was to send a curt refusal on plea -of other engagements. Do you think that was quite amiable on your -part?” - -“Fortunately for me I am not called upon to be amiable;”--said -El-Râmi, beginning to pace slowly up and down the room--“I want no -favours from society, so I need not smile to order. That is one of the -chief privileges of complete independence. Fancy having to grin and -lie and skulk and propitiate people all one’s days!--I could not -endure it,--but most men can--and do!” - -“Besides”--he added after a pause--“I cannot look on with patience at -the marriage of fools. Vaughan is a fool, and his baronetage will -scarcely pass for wisdom,--the little Chester girl is also a -fool,--and I can see exactly what they will become in the course of a -few years.” - -“Describe them, _in futuro_!” laughed Féraz. - -“Well--the man will be ‘turfy’; the woman, a blind slave to her -dressmaker. That is all. There can be nothing more. They will never do -any good or any harm--they are simply--nonentities. These are the sort -of folk that make me doubt the immortal soul,--for Vaughan is less -‘spiritual’ than a well-bred dog, and little Chester less mentally -gifted than a well-instructed mouse.” - -“Severe!”--commented Féraz, smiling--“But, man or woman,--mouse or -dog, I suppose they are quite happy just now?” - -“Happy?” echoed El-Râmi satirically--“Well--I dare say they -are,--with the only sort of happiness their intelligences can grasp. -She is happy because she is now ‘my lady’ and because she was able to -wear a wedding-gown of marvellous make and cost, to trail and rustle -and sweep after her little person up to God’s altar with, as though -she sought to astonish the Almighty, before whom she took her vows, -with the exuberance of her millinery. He is happy because his debts -are paid out of old Jabez Chester’s millions. There the ‘happiness’ -ends. A couple of months is sufficient to rub the bloom off such -wedlock.” - -“And you really prophesied the marriage?” queried Féraz. - -“It was easy enough”--replied his brother carelessly--“Given two -uninstructed, unthinking bipeds of opposite sexes--the male with -debts, the female with dollars, and an urbanely obstinate schemer to -pull them together like Lord Melthorpe, and the thing is done. Half -the marriages in London are made up like that,--and of the after-lives -of those so wedded, ‘there needs no ghost from the grave’ to tell -us,--the divorce courts give every information.” - -“Ah!” exclaimed Féraz quickly--“That reminds me,--do you know I saw -something in the evening paper last night that might have interested -you?” - -“Really! You surprise me!” and El-Râmi laughed--“That is strange -indeed, for papers of all sorts, whether morning or evening, are to me -the dullest and worst-written literature in the world.” - -“Oh, for literature one does not go to them”--answered Féraz. “But -this was a paragraph about a man who came here not very long ago to -see you--a clergyman. He is up as a co-respondent in some very -scandalous divorce case. I did not read it all--I only saw that his -Bishop had caused him to be ‘unfrocked,’ whatever that means--I -suppose he is expelled from the ministry?” - -“Yes. ‘Unfrocked’ means literally a stripping-off of clerical -dignity,” said El-Râmi. “But, if it is the man who came here, he was -always naked in that respect. Francis Anstruther was his name?” - -“Exactly--that is the man. He is disgraced for life, and seems to be -one of the most consummate scoundrels that ever lived. He has deserted -his wife and eight children...” - -“Spare me and yourself the details!” and El-Râmi gave an expressively -contemptuous gesture--“I know all about him and told him what I knew -when he came here. But he’ll do very well yet--he’ll get on capitally -in spite of his disgrace.” - -“How is that possible?” exclaimed Féraz. - -“Easily! He can ‘boom’ himself as a new ‘General’ Booth, or he can -become a ‘Colonel’ under Booth’s orders--as long as people support -Booth with money. Or he can go to America or Australia and start a new -creed--he’s sure to fall on his feet and make his fortune--pious -hypocrites always do. One would almost fancy there must be a special -Deity to protect the professors of Humbug. It is only the sincerely -honest folk who get wronged in this admirably-ordered world!” - -He spoke with bitterness; and Féraz glanced at him anxiously. - -“I do not quite agree with you”--he said; “Surely honest folk always -have their reward?--though perhaps superficial observers may not be -able to perceive where it comes in. I believe in ‘walking uprightly’ -as the Bible says--it seems to me easier to keep along a straight open -road than to take dark by-ways and dubious short cuts.” - -“What do you mean by your straight open road?” demanded El-Râmi, -looking at him. - -“Nature,”--replied Féraz promptly--“Nature leads us up to God.” - -El-Râmi broke into a harsh laugh. - -“O credulous beautiful lad!” he exclaimed; “You know not what you say! -Nature! Consider her methods of work--her dark and cunning and cruel -methods! Every living thing preys on some other living -things;--creatures wonderful, innocent, simple or complex, live -apparently but to devour and be devoured;--every inch of ground we -step upon is the dust of something dead. In the horrible depths of the -earth, Nature,--this generous kindly Nature!--hides her dread volcanic -fires,--her streams of lava, her boiling founts of sulphur and molten -lead, which at any unexpected moment may destroy whole continents -crowded with unsuspecting humanity. This is NATURE,--nothing but -Nature! She hides her treasures of gold, of silver, of diamonds and -rubies, in the deepest and most dangerous recesses, where human beings -are lost in toiling for them,--buried in darkness and slain by -thousands in the difficult search;--diving for pearls, the unwary -explorer is met by the remorseless monsters of the deep,--in fact, in -all his efforts towards discovery and progress, Man, the most -naturally defenceless creature upon earth, is met by death or blank -discouragement. Suppose he were to trust to Nature alone, what would -Nature do for him? He is sent into the world naked and helpless;--and -all the resources of his body and brain have to be educated and -brought into active requisition to enable him to live at all,--lions’ -whelps, bears’ cubs have a better ‘natural’ chance than he;--and then, -when he has learned how to make the best of his surroundings, he is -turned out of the world again, naked and helpless as he came in, with -all his knowledge of no more use to him than if he had never attained -it. This is NATURE, if Nature be thus reckless and unreasonable as the -‘reflex of God’--how reckless and unreasonable must be God Himself!” - -The beautiful stag-like eyes of Féraz darkened slowly, and his slim -hand involuntarily clenched. - -“Ay, if God were so,” he said--“the veriest pigmy among men might -boast of nobler qualities than He! But God is not so, El-Râmi! Of -course you can argue any and every way, and I cannot confute your -reasoning. Because you reason with the merely mortal intelligence; to -answer you rightly I should have to reply as a Spirit,--I should need -to be out of the body before I could tell you where you are wrong.” - -“Well!” said his brother curiously--“Then why do you not do so? Why do -you not come to me out of the body, and enlighten me as to what you -know?” - -Féraz looked troubled. - -“I cannot!” he said sadly--“When I go--away yonder--I seem to have so -little remembrance of earthly things--I am separated from the world by -thousands of air-spaces. I am always conscious that you exist on -earth,--but it is always as of some one who will join _me_ -presently--not of one whom _I_ am compelled to join. There is the -strangeness of it. That is why I have very little belief in the notion -of ghosts and spirits appearing to men--because I know positively that -no detached soul willingly returns to or remains on earth. There is -always the upward yearning. If it returns, it does so simply because -it is, for some reason, _commanded_, not because of its own desire.” - -“And who do you suppose commands it?” asked El-Râmi. - -“The Highest of all Powers,”--replied Féraz reverently--“whom we all, -whether spirit or mortal, obey.” - -“I do not obey,”--said El-Râmi composedly--“I enforce obedience.” - -“From whom?” cried Féraz with agitation--“O my brother, from whom? -From mortals perhaps--yes,--so long as it is permitted to you--but -from Heaven--no! No, not from Heaven can you win obedience. For God’s -sake do not boast of _such_ power!” - -He spoke passionately, and in anxious earnest. - -El-Râmi smiled. - -“My good fellow, why excite yourself? I do not ‘boast’--I am -simply--strong! If I am immortal, God Himself cannot slay me,--if I am -mortal only, I can but die. I am indifferent either way. Only I will -not shrink before an imaginary Divine terror till I prove what right -it has to my submission. Enough!--we have talked too much on this -subject, and I have work to do.” - -He turned to his writing-table as he spoke and was soon busy there. -Féraz took up a book and tried to read, but his heart beat quickly, -and he was overwhelmed by a deep sense of fear. The daring of his -brother’s words smote him with a chill horror,--from time immemorial, -had not the forces divine punished pride as the deadliest of sins? His -thoughts travelled over the great plain of History, on which so many -spectres of dead nations stand in our sight as pale warnings of our -own possible fate, and remembered how surely it came to pass that when -men became too proud and defiant and absolute,--rejecting God and -serving themselves only, then they were swept away into desolation and -oblivion. As with nations, so with individuals--the Law of -Compensation is just, and as evenly balanced as the symmetrical motion -of the Universe. And the words, “Except ye become as little children -ye shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven,” rang through his ears, as -he sat heavily silent, and wondering, wondering _where_ the researches -of his brother would end, and _how_? - -El-Râmi himself meanwhile was scanning the last pages of his dead -friend Kremlin’s private journal. This was a strange book,--kept with -exceeding care, and written in the form of letters which were all -addressed “To the Beloved Maroussia in Heaven”--and amply proved that, -in spite of the separated seclusion and eccentricity of his life, -Kremlin had not only been faithful to the love of his early days, the -girl who had died self-slain in her Russian prison,--but he had been -firm in his acceptance of and belief in the immortality of the soul -and the reunion of parted spirits. His last “letter” ran thus--it was -unfinished and had been written the night before the fatal storm which -had made an end of his life and learning together,-- - - “I seem to be now on the verge of the discovery for which I have - yearned. Thou knowest, O heart of my heart, how I dream that these - brilliant and ceaseless vibrations of light may perchance carry to the - world some message which it were well and wise we should know. Oh, if - this ‘Light,’ which is my problem and mystery, could but transmit to - my earthly vision one flashing gleam of thy presence, my beloved - child! But thou wilt guide me, so that I presume not too far;--I feel - thou art near me, and that thou wilt not fail me at the last. If in - the space of an earthly ten minutes this marvellous ‘Light’ can travel - 111,600,000 miles, thou as a ‘spirit of light’ canst not be very far - away. Only till my work for poor humanity is done, do I choose to be - parted from thee--be the time long or short--we shall meet. ...” - -Here the journal ended. - -“And have they met?” thought El-Râmi, as closing the book he locked -it away in his desk--“And do they remember they were ever mortal? And -_what_ are they--and _where_ are they?” - - - - - XXXV. - -In the midst of the strange “summer” weather which frequently falls -to the lot of England,--weather alternating between hot and cold, wet -and dry, sun and cloud with the most distracting rapidity and -irregularity,--there came at last one perfect night towards the end of -June,--a night which could have met with no rival even in the sunniest -climes of the sunniest south. A soft tranquillity hovered dove-like in -the air,--a sense of perfect peace seemed to permeate all visible and -created things. The sky was densely blue and thickly strewn with -stars, though these glimmered but faintly, their light being put to -shame by the splendid brilliancy of the full moon which swam aloft -airily like a great golden bubble. El-Râmi’s windows were all set -open; a big bunch of heliotrope adorned the table, and the subtle -fragrance of it stole out delicately to mingle with the -faintly-stirring evening breeze. Féraz was sitting alone,--his -brother had just left the room,--and he was indulging himself in the -_dolce far niente_ as only the Southern or Eastern temperament can do. -His hands were clasped lightly behind his head, and his eyes were -fixed on the shabby little trees in the square which had done their -best to look green among the whirling smuts of the metropolis and had -failed ignominiously in the attempt, but which now, in the ethereal -light of the moon, presented a soft outline of gray and silver like -olive-boughs seen in the distance. He was thinking, with a certain -serious satisfaction, of an odd circumstance that had occurred to -himself that day. It had happened in this wise: Since the time Zaroba -had taken him to look upon the beautiful creature who was the -“subject” of his brother’s experiments, he had always kept the memory -of her in his mind without speaking of her, save that whenever he said -a prayer or offered up a thanksgiving he had invariably used the -phrase--“God defend her!” He could only explain “Her” to himself by -the simple pronoun, because, as El-Râmi had willed, he had utterly -and hopelessly forgotten her name. But now, strange to say, he -remembered it!--it had flashed across his mind like a beam of light or -a heaven-sent signal,--he was at work, writing at his poem, when some -sudden inexplicable instinct had prompted him to lift his eyes and -murmur devoutly--“God defend Lilith!” Lilith!--how soft the sound of -it!--how infinitely bewitching! After having lost it for so long, it -had come back to him in a moment--how or why, he could not imagine. He -could only account for it in one way--namely, that El-Râmi’s -will-forces were so concentrated on some particularly absorbing object -that his daily influence on his brother’s young life was thereby -materially lessened. And Féraz was by no means sorry that this should -be so. - -“Why should it matter that I remember her name?” he mused--“I shall -never speak of her--for I have sworn I will not. But I can think of -her to my heart’s content,--the beautiful Lilith!” - -Then he fell to considering the old legend of that Lilith who it is -said was Adam’s first wife,--and he smiled as he thought what a name -of evil omen it was to the Jews, who had charms and talismans -wherewith to exorcise the supposed evil influence connected with -it,--while to him, Féraz, it was a name sweeter than honey-sweet -singing. Then there came to his mind stray snatches of -poesy,--delicate rhymes from the rich and varied stores of one of his -favourite poets, Dante Gabriel Rossetti,--rhymes that sounded in his -ears just now like the strophes of a sibylline chant or spell: - - “It was Lilith the wife of Adam: - (_Sing Eden Bower!_) - Not a drop of her blood was human, - But she was made like a soft sweet woman.” - -“And that is surely true!” said Féraz to himself, a little -startled,--“For--if she is _dead_, as El-Râmi asserts, and her -seeming life is but the result of his art, then indeed in the case of -this Lilith ‘not a drop of her blood is human.’” - -And the poem ran on in his mind-- - - “Lilith stood on the skirts of Eden: - (_Alas, the hour!_) - She was the first that thence was driven: - With her was hell, and with Eve was heaven.” - -“Nay, I should transpose that,”--murmured the young man drowsily, -staring out on the moonlit street--“I should say, ‘With Eve was hell, -and with Lilith heaven.’ How strange it is I should never have thought -of this poem before!--and I have often turned over the pages of -Rossetti’s book,--since--since I saw her;--I must have actually seen -the name of Lilith printed there, and yet it never suggested itself to -me as being familiar or offering any sort of clue.” - -He sighed perplexedly,--the heliotrope odours floated around him, and -the gleam of the lamp in the room seemed to pale in the wide splendour -of the moon-rays pouring through the window,--and still the delicate -sprite of Poesy continued to remind him of familiar lines and verses -he loved, though all the while he thought of Lilith, and kept on -wondering vaguely and vainly what would be, what could be, the end of -his brother’s experiment (whatever that was, for he, Féraz, did not -know) on the lovely, apparently living girl who yet was dead. It was -very strange--and surely, it was also very terrible! - - “The day is dark and the night - To him that would search their heart; - No lips of cloud that will part, - Nor morning song in the light: - Only, gazing alone - To him wild shadows are shown, - Deep under deep unknown - And height above unknown height. - Still we say as we go,-- - ‘Strange to think by the way, - Whatever there is to know, - That shall we know one day.’” - -This passage of rhyme sang itself out with a monotonous musical -gentleness in his brain,--he closed his eyes restfully,--and -then--lying back thus in his chair by the open window, with the -moonlight casting a wide halo round him and giving a pale spiritual -beauty to his delicate classic features,--he passed away out of his -body, as _he_ would have said, and was no more on earth; or rather, as -_we_ should say, he fell asleep and dreamed. And the “dream” or the -“experience” was this:-- - -He found himself walking leisurely upon the slopes of a majestic -mountain, which seemed not so much mountain as garden, for all the -winding paths leading to its summit were fringed with flowers. He -heard the silvery plashing of brooks and fountains, and the rustling -of thickly-foliaged trees,--he knew the place well, and realised that -he was in his “star” again,--the mystic Sphere he called his “home.” -But he was evidently an exile or an alien in it,--he had grown to -realise this fact and was sorry it should be so, yet his sorrow was -mingled with hope, for he felt it would not always be so. He wandered -along aimlessly and alone, full of a curiously vague happiness and -regret, and as he walked he was passed by crowds of beautiful youths -and maidens, who were all pressing forward eagerly as to some high -festival or great assembly. They sang blithe songs,--they scattered -flowers,--they talked with each other in happy-toned voices,--and he -stood aside gazing at them wistfully while they went on rejoicing. - -“O land where life never grows old and where love is eternal!” he -mused--“Why am I exiled from thy glory? Why have I lost thy joy?” - -He sighed;--he longed to know what had brought together so bright a -multitude of these lovely and joyous beings,--his own “dear people” as -he felt they were; and yet--yet he hesitated to ask one of them the -least question, feeling himself unworthy. At last he saw a girl -approaching,--she was singing to herself and tying flowers in a -garland as she came,--her loose golden hair streamed behind her, every -glistening tress seeming to flash light as she moved. As she drew near -him she glanced at him kindly and paused as though waiting to be -addressed,--seeing this, he mustered up his courage and spoke. - -“Whither are you all going?” he asked, with a sad gentleness--“I may -not follow you, I know,--but will you tell me why, in this kingdom of -joy, so much fresh joy seems added?” - -She pointed upwards, and as his eyes obeyed her gesture he saw, in the -opal-coloured sky that bent above them, a dazzling blaze of gold and -crimson glory towards the south. - -“An Angel passes!” she replied--“Below that line of light the Earth -swings round in its little orbit, and from the Earth She comes! We go -to watch her flight heavenward, and win the benediction that her -passing presence gives. For look you!--all that splendour in the sky -is not light, but wings!” - -“Wings!” echoed Féraz dreamily, yet nothing doubting what she said. - -“Wings or rays of glory,--which you will”--said the maiden, turning -her own beautiful eyes towards the flashing brilliancy; “They are -waiting there,--those who come from the farthest Divine world,--they -are the friends of Lilith.” - -She bent her head serenely, and passed onward and upward, and Féraz -stood still, his gaze fixed in the direction of that southern light -which he now perceived was never still, but quivered as with a million -shafts of vari-coloured fire. - -“The friends of Lilith!” he repeated to himself--“Angels then,--for -she is an Angel.” - -Angels!--angels waiting for Lilith in the glory of the South! How -long--how long would they wait?--when would Lilith herself -appear?--and would the very heavens open to receive her, soaring -upward? He trembled,--he tried to realise the unimaginable scene,--and -then, ... then he seemed to be seized and hurried away somewhere -against his will ... and all that was light grew dark. He shuddered as -with icy cold, and felt that earth again encompassed him,--and -presently he woke--to find his brother looking at him. - -“Why in the world do you go to sleep with the window wide open?” asked -El-Râmi--“Here I find you, literally bathed in the moonlight--and -moonlight drives men mad, they say,--so fast too in the land of Nod -that I could hardly waken you. Shut the window, my dear boy, if you -_must_ sleep.” - -Féraz sprang up quickly,--his eyes felt dazzled still with the -remembrance of that “glory of the angels in the South.” - -“I was not asleep,”--he said--“But certainly I was not here.” - -“Ah!--In your Star again of course!” murmured El-Râmi with the -faintest trace of mockery in his tone. But Féraz took no offence--his -one anxiety was to prevent the name of “Lilith” springing to his lips -in spite of himself. - -“Yes--I was there”--he answered slowly. “And do you know all the -people in the land are gathering together by thousands to see an Angel -pass heavenward? And there is a glory of her sister-angels, away in -the Southern horizon like the splendid circle described by Dante in -his _Paradiso_. Thus-- - - “‘There is a light in heaven whose goodly shine - Makes the Creator visible to all - Created, that in seeing Him alone - Have peace. And in a circle spreads so far - That the circumference were too loose a zone - To girdle in the sun!’” - -He quoted the lines with strange eagerness and fervour,--and El-Râmi -looked at him curiously. - -“What odd dreams you have!” he said, not unkindly--“Always fantastic -and impossible, but beautiful in their way. You should set them down -in black and white, and see how earth’s critics will bespatter your -heaven with the ink of their office pens! Poor boy!--how limply you -would fall from ‘Paradise’!--with what damp dejected wings!” - -Féraz smiled. - -“I do not agree with you”--he said--“If you speak of -imagination,--only in this case I am not imagining,--no one can shut -out that Paradise from me at any time--neither pope nor king, nor -critic. Thought is free, thank God!” - -“Yes--perhaps it is the only thing we have to be really thankful -for,”--returned El-Râmi--“Well--I will leave you to resume your -‘dreams’--only don’t sleep with the windows open. Summer evenings are -treacherous,--I should advise you to get to bed.” - -“And you?” asked Féraz, moved by a sudden anxiety which he could not -explain. - -“I shall not sleep to-night,”--said his brother moodily--“Something -has occurred to me--a suggestion--an idea which I am impatient to work -out without loss of time. And, Féraz,--if I succeed in it--you shall -know the result to-morrow.” - -This promise, which implied such a new departure from El-Râmi’s -customary reticence concerning his work, really alarmed Féraz more -than gratified him. - -“For Heaven’s sake be careful!” he exclaimed--“You attempt so -much,--you want so much,--perhaps more than can in law and justice be -given. El-Râmi, my brother, leave something to God--you cannot, you -dare not take all!” - -“My dear visionary,” replied El-Râmi gently--“You alarm yourself -needlessly, I assure you. I do not want to take anything except what -is my own,--and, as for leaving something to God, why, He is welcome -to what He makes of me in the end--a pinch of dust!” - -“There is more than dust in your composition--” cried Féraz -impetuously--“There is divinity! And the divinity belongs to God, and -to God you must render it up, pure and perfect. He claims it from you, -and you are bound to give it.” - -A tremor passed through El-Râmi’s frame, and he grew paler. - -“If that be true, Féraz,” he said slowly and with emphasis--“if it -indeed be true that there _is_ divinity in me,--which I doubt!--why, -then let God claim and take his own particle of fire when He will, and -as He will! Good-night!” - -Féraz caught his hands and pressed them tenderly in his own. - -“Good-night!” he murmured--“God does all things well, and to His care -I commend you, my dearest brother.” - -And as El-Râmi turned away and left the room he gazed after him with -a chill sense of fear and desolation,--almost as if he were doomed -never to see him again. He could not reason his alarm away, and yet he -knew not why he should feel any alarm,--but, truth to tell, his -interior sense of vision seemed still to smart and ache with the -radiance of the light he had seen in his “star” and that roseate -sunset-flush of “glory in the south” created by the clustering angels -who were “the friends of Lilith.” Why were they there?--what did they -wait for?--how should Lilith know them or have any intention of -joining them, when she was here,--here on the earth, as he, Féraz, -knew,--here under the supreme dominance of his own brother? He dared -not speculate too far; and, trying to dismiss all thought from his -mind, he was proceeding towards his own room, there to retire for the -night, when he met Zaroba coming down the stairs. Her dark withered -face had a serene and almost happy expression upon it,--she smiled as -she saw him. - -“It is a night for dreams,--” she said, sinking her harsh voice to a -soft almost musical cadence--“And as the multitude of the stars in -heaven, so are the countless heart-throbs that pulsate in the world at -this hour to the silver sway of the moon. All over the world!--all -over the world!--” and she swung her arms to and fro with a slow -rhythmical movement, so that the silver bangles on them clashed softly -like the subdued tinkling of bells;--then, fixing her black eyes upon -Féraz with a mournful yet kindly gaze she added--“Not for you--not -for you, gentlest of dreamers! not for you! It is destined that you -should dream,--and, for you, dreaming is best,--but for _me_--I would -rather _live_ one hour than dream for a century!” - -Her words were vague and wild as usual,--yet somehow Féraz chafed -under the hidden sense of them, and he gave a slight petulant gesture -of irritation. Zaroba, seeing it, broke into a low laugh. - -“As God liveth,--” she muttered--“The poor lad fights bravely! He -hates the world without ever having known it,--and recoils from love -without ever having tasted it! He chooses a thought, a rhyme, a song, -an art, rather than a passion! Poor lad--poor lad! Dream on, -child!--but pray that you may never wake. For to dream of love may be -sweet, but to wake without it is bitter.” - -Like a gliding wraith she passed him and disappeared. Féraz had a -mind to follow her down stairs to the basement where she had the sort -of rough sleeping accommodation her half-savage nature preferred, -whenever she slept at all out of Lilith’s room, which was but -seldom,--yet on second thoughts he decided he would let her alone. - -“She only worries me--” he said to himself half vexedly as he went to -his own little apartment--“It was she who first disobeyed El-Râmi, -and made me disobey him also, and though she did take me to see the -wonderful Lilith, what was the use of it? Her matchless beauty -compelled my adoration, my enthusiasm, my reverence, almost my -love--but who could dare to love such a removed angelic creature? Not -even El-Râmi himself,--for he must know, even as I feel, that she is -beyond all love, save the Love Divine.” - -He cast off his loose Eastern dress, and prepared to lie down, when he -was startled by a faint far sound of singing. He listened -attentively;--it seemed to come from outside, and he quickly flung -open his window, which only opened upon a little narrow backyard such -as is common to London houses. But the moonlight transfigured its -ugliness, making it look like a square white court set in walls of -silver. The soft rays fell caressingly too on the bare bronze-tinted -shoulders of Féraz, as half undressed, he leaned out, his eyes -upturned to the halcyon heavens. Surely, surely there was singing -somewhere,--why, he could distinguish words amid the sounds! - - Away, away! - Where the glittering planets whirl and swim - And the glory of the sun grows dim - Away, away! - To the regions of light and fire and air - Where the spirits of life are everywhere - Come, oh come away! - -Trembling in every limb, Féraz caught the song distinctly, and held -his breath in fear and wonder. - - Away, away! - Come, oh come! we have waited long - And we sing thee now a summoning song - Away, away! - Thou art freed from the world of the dreaming dead, - And the splendours of Heaven are round thee spread-- - Come away!--away! - -The chorus grew fainter and fainter--yet still sounded like a distant -musical hum on the air. - -“It is my fancy”--murmured Féraz at last, as he drew in his head and -noiselessly shut the window--“It is the work of my own imagination, or -what is perhaps more probable, the work of El-Râmi’s will. I have -heard such music before,--at his bidding--no, not _such_ music, but -something very like it.” - -He waited a few minutes, then quietly knelt down to pray,--but no -words suggested themselves, save the phrase that once before had risen -to his lips that day,--“God defend Lilith!” - -He uttered it aloud,--then sprang up confused and half afraid, for the -name had rung out so clearly that it seemed like a call or a command. - -“Well!” he said, trying to steady his nerves--“What if I did say it? -There is no harm in the words ‘God defend her.’ If she is dead, as -El-Râmi says, she needs no defence, for her soul belongs to God -already.” - -He paused again,--the silence everywhere was now absolutely unbroken -and intense, and repelling the vague presentiments that threatened to -oppress his mind, he threw himself on his bed and was soon sound -asleep. - - - - - XXXVI. - -And what of the “sign” promised by Lilith? Had it been given? -No,--but El-Râmi’s impatience would brook no longer delay, and he had -determined to put an end to his perplexities by violent means if -necessary, and take the risk of whatever consequences might ensue. He -had been passing through the strangest phases of thought and -self-analysis during these latter weeks,--trying, reluctantly enough, -to bend his haughty spirit down to an attitude of humility and -patience which ill suited him. He was essentially masculine in his -complete belief in himself,--and more than all things he resented any -interference with his projects, whether such interference were human -or Divine. When therefore the tranced Lilith had bidden him “wait, -watch and pray,” she had laid upon him the very injunctions he found -most difficult to follow. He could wait and watch if he were certain -of results,--but where there was the slightest glimmer of -_un_certainty, he grew very soon tired of both waiting and watching. -As for “praying”--he told himself arrogantly that to ask for what he -could surely obtain by the exerted strength of his own will was not -only superfluous, but implied great weakness of character. It was -then, in the full-armed spirit of pride and assertive dominance that -he went up that night to Lilith’s chamber, and dismissing Zaroba with -more than usual gentleness of demeanour towards her, sat down beside -the couch on which his lovely and mysterious “subject” lay, to all -appearances inanimate save for her quiet breathing. His eyes were -sombre, yet glittered with a somewhat dangerous lustre under their -drooping lids;--he was to be duped no longer, he said to himself,--he -had kept faithful vigil night after night, hoping against hope, -believing against belief, and not the smallest movement or hint that -could be construed into the promised “sign” had been vouchsafed to -him. And all his old doubts returned to chafe and fret his -brain,--doubts as to whether he had not been deceiving himself all -this while in spite of his boasted scepticism,--and whether Lilith, -when she spoke, was not merely repeating like a mechanical automaton, -the stray thoughts of his own mind reflected upon hers? He had -“proved” the possibility of that kind of thing occurring between human -beings who were scarcely connected with each other even by a tie of -ordinary friendship--how much more likely then that it should happen -in such a case as that of Lilith,--Lilith who had been under the sole -dominance of his will for six years! Yet while he thus teased himself -with misgivings, he knew it was impossible to account for the mystic -tendency of her language, or the strange and super-sensual character -of the information she gave or feigned to give. It was not from -himself or his own information that he had obtained a description of -the landscapes in Mars,--its wondrous red fields,--its rosy foliage -and flowers,--its great jagged rocks ablaze with amethystine -spar,--its huge conical shells, tall and light, that rose up like -fairy towers, fringed with flags and garlands of marine blossom, out -of oceans the colour of jasper and pearl. Certainly too, it was not -from the testimony of _his_ inner consciousness that he had evoked the -faith that seemed so natural to her; _her_ belief in a Divine -Personality, and _his_ utter rejection of any such idea, were two -things wider asunder than the poles, and had no possible sort of -connection. Nevertheless what he could not account for, wearied him -out and irritated him by its elusiveness and unprovable -character,--and finally, his long, frequent, and profitless -reflections on the matter had brought him this night up to a point of -determination which but a few months back would have seemed to him -impossible. _He had resolved to waken Lilith_. What sort of a being -she would seem when once awakened, he could not quite imagine. He knew -she had died in his arms as a child,--and that her seeming life now, -and her growth into the loveliness of womanhood was the result of -artificial means evolved from the wonders of chemistry,--but he -persuaded himself that though her existence was the work of science -and not nature, it was better than natural, and would last as long. He -determined he would break that mysterious trance of body in which the -departing Intelligence had been, by his skill, detained and held in -connection with its earthly habitation,--he would transform the -sleeping visionary into a living woman, for--he loved her. He could no -longer disguise from himself that her fair face with its heavenly -smile, framed in the golden hair that circled it like a halo, haunted -him in every minute of time,--he could not and would not deny that his -whole being ached to clasp with a lover’s embrace that exquisite -beauty which had so long been passively surrendered to his -experimentings,--and with the daring of a proud and unrestrained -nature, he frankly avowed his feeling to himself and made no pretence -of hiding it any longer. But it was a far deeper mystery than his -“search for the Soul of Lilith,” to find out when and how this passion -had first arisen in him. He could not analyse himself so thoroughly as -to discover its vague beginnings. Perhaps it was germinated by -Zaroba’s wild promptings,--perhaps by the fact that a certain -unreasonable jealousy had chafed his spirit when he knew that his -brother Féraz had won a smile of attention and response from the -tranced girl,--perhaps it was owing to the irritation he had felt at -the idea that his visitor, the monk from Cyprus, seemed to know more -of her than he himself did,--at any rate, whatever the cause, he who -had been sternly impassive once to the subtle attraction of Lilith’s -outward beauty, madly adored that outward beauty now. And as is usual -with very self-reliant and proud dispositions, he almost began to -glory in a sentiment which but a short time ago he would have repelled -and scorned. What was _for_ himself and _of_ himself was good in his -sight--_his_ knowledge, _his_ “proved” things, _his_ tested -discoveries, all these were excellent in his opinion, and the “Ego” of -his own ability was the pivot on which all his actions turned. He had -laid his plans carefully for the awakening of Lilith,--but in one -little trifle they had been put out by the absence from town of Madame -Irene Vassilius. She, of all women he had ever met, was the one he -would have trusted with his secret, because he knew that her life, -though lived in the world, was as stainless as though it were lived in -heaven. He had meant to place Lilith in her care,--in order that with -her fine perceptions, lofty ideals, and delicate sense of all things -beautiful and artistic, she might accustom the girl to look upon the -fairest and noblest side of life, so that she might not regret the -“visions”--yes, he would call them “visions”--she had lost. But Irene -was among the mountains of the Austrian Tyrol, enjoying a holiday in -the intimate society of the fairest Queen in the world, Margherita of -Italy, one of the few living Sovereigns who really strive to bestow on -intellectual worth its true appreciation and reward. And her house in -London was shut up, and under the sole charge of the happy Karl, -former servant to Dr. Kremlin, who had now found with the fair and -famous authoress a situation that suited him exactly. “Wild horses -would not tear him from his lady’s service” he was wont to say, and he -guarded her household interests jealously, and said “Not at home” to -undesired visitors like Roy Ainsworth for example, with a gruffness -that would have done credit to a Russian bear. To Irene Vassilius, -therefore, El-Râmi could not turn for the help he had meant to ask, -and he was sorry and disappointed, for he had particularly wished to -remove his “sleeper awakened” out of the companionship of both Zaroba -and Féraz,--and there was no other woman like Irene,--at once so pure -and proud, so brilliantly gifted, and so far removed from the touch -and taint of modern social vulgarity. However, her aid was now -unattainable, and he had to make up his mind to do without it. And so -he resolutely put away the thought of the after-results of Lilith’s -awakening,--he, who was generally so careful to calculate -consequences, instinctively avoided the consideration of them in the -present instance. - -The little silver timepiece ticked with an aggressive loudness as he -sat now at his usual post, his black eyes fixed half tenderly, half -fiercely on Lilith’s white beauty,--beauty which was, as he told -himself, all his own. Her arms were folded across her breast,--her -features were pallid as marble, and her breathing was very light and -low. The golden lamp burned dimly as it swung from the -purple-pavilioned ceiling--the scent of the roses that were always set -fresh in their vase every day, filled the room, and though the windows -were closed against the night, a dainty moonbeam strayed in through a -chink where the draperies were not quite drawn, and mingled its -emerald glitter with the yellow lustre shed by the lamp on the -darkly-carpeted floor. - -“I will risk it,”--said El-Râmi in a whisper,--a whisper that sounded -loud in the deep stillness--“I will risk it--why not? I have proved -myself capable of arresting life, or the soul--for life _is_ the -soul--in its flight from hence into the Nowhere,--I must needs also -have the power to keep it indefinitely here for myself in whatever -form I please. These are the rewards of science,--rewards which I am -free to claim,--and what I have done, that I have a right to do again. -Now let me ask myself the question plainly;--Do I believe in the -supernatural?” - -He paused, thinking earnestly,--his eyes still fixed on Lilith. - -“No, I do not,”--he answered himself at last--“Frankly and honestly, I -do not. I have no proofs. I am, it is true, puzzled by Lilith’s -language,--but when I know her as she is, a woman, sentient and -conscious of my presence, I may find out the seeming mystery. The -dreams of Féraz are only dreams,--the vision I saw on that one -occasion”--and a faint tremor came over him as he remembered the sweet -yet solemn look of the shining One he had seen standing between him -and his visitor the monk--“the vision was of course _his_ work--the -work of that mystic master of a no less mystic brotherhood. No--I have -no proofs of the supernatural, and I must not deceive myself. Even the -promise of Lilith fails. Poor child!--she sleeps like the daughter of -Jairus, but when I, in my turn, pronounce the words ‘Maiden, I say -unto thee, arise’--she will obey;--she will awake and live indeed.” - -“She will awake and live indeed!” - -The words were repeated after him distinctly--but by whom? He started -up,--looked round--there was no one in the room,--and Lilith was -immovable as the dead. He began to find something chill and sad in the -intense silence that followed,--everything about him was a harmony of -glowing light and purple colour,--yet all seemed suddenly very dull -and dim and cold. He shivered where he stood, and pressed his hands to -his eyes,--his temples throbbed and ached, and he felt curiously -bewildered. Presently, looking round the room again, he saw that the -picture of “Christ and His Disciples” was unveiled;--he had not -noticed the circumstance before. Had Zaroba inadvertently drawn aside -the curtain which ordinarily hid it from view? Slowly his eyes -travelled to it and dwelt upon it--slowly they followed the letters of -the inscription beneath: - - “WHOM SAY YE THAT I AM?” - -The question seemed to him for the moment all-paramount, he could not -shake off the sense of pertinacious demand with which it impressed -him. - -“A good Man,”--he said aloud, staring fixedly at the divine Face and -Figure, with its eloquent expression of exalted patience, grandeur and -sweetness. “A good Man, misled by noble enthusiasm and unselfish -desire to benefit the poor. A man with a wise knowledge of human -magnetism and the methods of healing in which it can be employed,--a -man, too, somewhat skilled in the art of optical illusion. Yet when -all is said and done, a _good_ Man--too good and wise and pure for the -peace of the rulers of the world,--too honest and clear-sighted to -deserve any other reward but death. Divine?--No!--save in so far as in -our highest moments we are all divine. Existing now?--a Prince of -Heaven, a Pleader against Punishment? Nay, nay!--no more existing than -the Soul of Lilith,--that soul for which I search, but which I feel I -shall never find!” - -And he drew nearer to the ivory-satin couch on which lay the lovely -sleeping wonder and puzzle of his ambitious dreams. Leaning towards -her he touched her hands,--they were cold, but as he laid his own upon -them they grew warm and trembled. Closer still he leaned, his eyes -drinking in every detail of her beauty with eager, proud and masterful -eyes. - -“Lilith!--_my_ Lilith!” he murmured--“After all, why should we put off -happiness for the sake of everlastingness, when happiness can be had, -at any rate for a few years. One can but live and die and there an -end. And Love comes but once, ... Love!--how I have scoffed at it and -made a jest of it as if it were a plaything. And even now while my -whole heart craves for it, I question whether it is worth having! Poor -Lilith!--only a woman after all,--a woman whose beauty will soon -pass--whose days will soon be done,--only a woman--not an immortal -Soul,--there is, there can be, no such thing as an immortal Soul.” - -Bending down over her, he resolutely unclasped the fair crossed arms, -and seized the delicate small hands in a close grip. - -“Lilith! Lilith!” he called imperiously. - -A long and heavy pause ensued,--then the girl’s limbs quivered -violently as though moved by a sudden convulsion, and her lips parted -in the utterance of the usual formula-- - -“I am here.” - -“Here at last, but you have been absent long”--said El-Râmi with some -reproach, “Too long. And you have forgotten your promise.” - -“Forgotten!” she echoed--“O doubting spirit! Do such as I am, ever -forget?” - -Her thrilling accents awed him a little, but he pursued his own way -with her, undauntedly. - -“Then why have you not fulfilled it?” he demanded--“The strongest -patience may tire. I have waited and watched, as you bade me--but -now--now I am weary of waiting.” - -Oh, what a sigh broke from her lips! - -“I am weary too”--she said--“The angels are weary. God is weary. All -Creation is weary--of Doubt.” - -For a moment he was abashed,--but only for a moment; in himself he -considered Doubt to be the strongest part of his nature,--a positive -shield and buckler against possible error. - -“You cannot wait,”--went on Lilith, speaking slowly and with evident -sadness--“Neither can we. We have hoped,--in vain! We have watched--in -vain! The strong man’s pride will not bend, nor the stubborn spirit -turn in prayer to its Creator. Therefore what is not bent must be -broken,--and what voluntarily refuses Light must accept Darkness. I am -bidden to come to you, my beloved,--to come to you as I am, and as I -ever shall be,--I will come--but how will you receive me?” - -“With ecstasy, with love, with welcome beyond all words or thoughts!” -cried El-Râmi in passionate excitement. “O Lilith, Lilith! you who -read the stars, cannot you read my heart? Do you not see that I--I who -have recoiled from the very thought of loving,--I, who have striven to -make of myself a man of stone and iron rather than flesh and blood, am -conquered by your spells, victorious Lilith!--conquered in every fibre -of my being by some subtle witchcraft known to yourself alone. Am I -weak!--am I false to my own beliefs? I know not,--I am only conscious -of the sovereignty of beauty which has mastered many a stronger man -than I. What is the fiercest fire compared with this fever in my -veins? I worship you, Lilith! I love you!--more than the world, life, -time and hope of heaven, I love you!” - -Flushed with eagerness and trembling with his own emotion, he rained -kisses on the hands he held, but Lilith strove to withdraw them from -his clasp. Pale as alabaster she lay as usual with fast-closed eyes, -and again a deep sigh heaved her breast. - -“You love my Shadow,”--she said mournfully--“not Myself.” - -But El-Râmi’s rapture was not to be chilled by these words. He -gathered up a glittering mass of the rich hair that lay scattered on -the pillow and pressed it to his lips. - -“Oh Lilith mine, is this ‘Shadow’?” he asked--“All this gold in which -I net my heart like a willingly-caught bird, and make an end of my -boasted wisdom? Are these sweet lips, these fair features, this -exquisite body, all ‘shadow’? Then blessed must be the light that -casts so gracious a reflection! Judge me not harshly, my Sweet,--for -if indeed you are divine, and this beauty I behold is the mere reflex -of Divinity, let me see the divine form of you for once, and have a -guarantee for faith through love! If there is another and a fairer -Lilith than the one whom I now behold, deny me not the grace of so -marvellous a vision! I am ready!--I fear nothing--to-night I could -face God Himself undismayed!” - -He paused abruptly--he knew not why. Something in the chill and solemn -look of Lilith’s face checked his speech. - -“Lilith--Lilith!” he began again whisperingly--“Do I ask too much? -Surely not!--not if you love me! And you do love me--I feel, I know -you do!” - -There was a long pause,--Lilith might have been made of marble for all -the movement she gave. Her breathing was so light as to be scarcely -perceptible, and when she answered him at last, her voice sounded -strangely faint and far-removed. “Yes, I love you”--she said--“I love -you as I have loved you for a thousand ages, and as you have never -loved me. To win your love has been _my_ task--to repel my love has -been _yours_.” - -He listened, smitten by a vague sense of compunction and regret. - -“But you have conquered, Lilith”--he answered--“yours is the victory. -And have I not surrendered, willingly, joyfully? O my beautiful -Dreamer, what would you have me do?” - -“Pray!” said Lilith, with a sudden passionate thrill in her -voice--“Pray! Repent!” - -El-Râmi drew himself backward from her couch, impatient and angered. - -“Repent!” he cried aloud--“And why should I repent? What have I done -that calls for repentance? For what sin am I to blame? For doubting a -God who, deaf to centuries upon centuries of human prayer and worship, -will not declare Himself? and for striving to perceive Him through the -cruel darkness by which we are surrounded? What crime can be -discovered there? The world is most infinitely sad,--and life is most -infinitely dreary,--and may I not strive to comfort those amid the -struggle who fain would ‘prove’ and hold fast to the things beyond? -Nay!--let the heavens open and cast forth upon me their fiery -thunderbolts, I will _not_ repent! For, vast as my doubt is, so vast -would be my faith, if God would speak and say to His creatures but -once--‘Lo! I am here!’ Tortures of hell-pain would not terrify me, if -in the end His Being were made clearly manifest--a cross of endless -woe would I endure, to feel and see Him near me at the last, and more -than all, to make the world feel and see Him--to prove to wondering, -trembling, terror-stricken, famished, heart-broken human beings that -He exists,--that He is aware of their misery,--that He cares for them, -that it is all well for them,--that there _is_ Eternal Joy hiding -itself somewhere amid the great star-thickets of this monstrous -universe--that we are not desolate atoms whirled by a blind fierce -Force into life against our will, and out of it again without a shadow -of reason or a glimmer of hope. Repent for such thoughts as these? I -will not! Pray to a God of such inexorable silence? I will not! No, -Lilith--my Lilith whom I snatched from greedy death--even you may fail -me at the last,--you may break your promise,--the promise that I -should see with mortal eyes your own Immortal Self--who can blame you -for the promise of a dream, poor child! You may prove yourself nothing -but woman; woman, poor, frail, weak, helpless woman to be loved and -cherished and pitied and caressed in all the delicate limbs, and -kissed in all the dainty golden threads of hair, and then--then--to be -laid down like a broken flower in the tomb that has grudged me your -beauty all this while,--all this may be, Lilith, and yet I will not -pray to an unproved God, nor repent of an unproved sin!” - -He uttered his words with extraordinary force and eloquence--one would -have thought he was addressing a multitude of hearers instead of that -one tranced girl, who, though beautiful as a sculptured saint on a -sarcophagus, appeared almost as inanimate, save for the slow parting -of her lips when she spoke. - -“O superb Angel of the Kingdom!” she murmured--“It is no marvel that -you fell!” - -He heard her, dimly perplexed; but strengthened in his own convictions -by what he had said, he was conscious of power,--power to defy, power -to endure, power to command. Such a sense of exhilaration and high -confidence had not possessed him for many a long day, and he was about -to speak again, when Lilith’s voice once more stole musically on the -silence. - -“You would reproach God for the world’s misery. Your complaint is -unjust. There is a Law,--a Law for the earth as for all worlds; and -God cannot alter one iota of that Law without destroying Himself and -His Universe. Shall all Beauty, all Order, all Creation come to an end -because wilful Man is wilfully miserable? Your world trespasses -against the Law in almost everything it does--hence its suffering. -Other worlds accept the Law and fulfil it,--and with them, all is -well.” - -“Who is to know this Law?” demanded El-Râmi impatiently. “And how can -the world trespass against what is not explained?” - -“It is explained;”--said Lilith--“The explanation is in every soul’s -inmost consciousness. You all know the Law and feel it--but knowing, -you ignore it. Men were intended by Law--God’s Law--to live in -brotherhood; but your world is divided into nations all opposed to -each other,--the result is Evil. There is a Law of Health, which men -can scarcely be forced to follow--the majority disobey it; again, the -result is Evil. There is a Law of ‘Enough’--men grasp more than -enough, and leave their brother with less than enough,--the result is -Evil. There is a Law of Love--men make it a Law of Lust,--the result -is Evil. All sin, all pain, all misery, are results of the Law’s -transgression,--and God cannot alter the Law, He Himself being part of -it and its fulfilment.” - -“And is Death also the Law?” asked El-Râmi--“Wise Lilith!--Death, -which concludes all things, both in Law and Order?” - -“There is no death,” responded Lilith--“I have told you so. What you -call by that name is Life.” - -“Prove it!” exclaimed El-Râmi excitedly, “Prove it, Lilith! Show me -Yourself! If there is another You than this beloved beauty of your -visible form, let me behold it, and then--then will I repent of -doubt,--then will I pray for pardon!” - -“You will repent indeed,”--said Lilith sorrowfully--“And you will pray -as children pray when first they learn ‘Our Father.’ Yes, I will come -to you; watch for me, O my erring Belovëd!--watch!--for neither my -love nor my promise can fail. But O remember that you are not -ready--that your will, your passion, your love, forces me hither ere -the time,--that, if I come, it is but to depart again--for ever!” - -“No, no!” cried El-Râmi desperately--“Not to depart, but to -remain!--to stay with me, my Lilith, my own--body and soul,--for -ever!” - -The last words sounded like a defiance flung at some invisible -opponent. He stopped, trembling--for a sudden and mysterious wave of -sound filled the room, like a great wind among the trees, or the last -grand chord of an organ-symphony. A chill fear assailed him,--he kept -his eyes fixed on the beautiful form of Lilith with a strained -eagerness of attention that made his temples ache. She grew paler and -paler,--and yet, ... absorbed in his intent scrutiny he could not move -or speak. His tongue seemed tied to the roof of his mouth,--he felt as -though he could scarcely breathe. All life appeared to hang on one -supreme moment of time, which like a point of light wavered between -earth and heaven, mortality and infinity. He,--one poor atom in the -vast Universe,--stood, audaciously waiting for the declaration of -God’s chiefest Secret. Would it be revealed at last?--or still -withheld? - - - - - XXXVII. - -All at once, while he thus closely watched her, Lilith, with a -violent effort, sat up stiffly erect and turned her head slowly -towards him. Her features were rigidly statuesque, and white as -snow,--the strange gaunt look of her face terrified him, but he could -not cry out or utter a word--he was stricken dumb by an excess of -fear. Only his black eyes blazed with an anguish of expectation,--and -the tension of his nerves seemed almost greater than he could endure. - -“In the great Name of God and by the Passion of Christ,”--said Lilith -solemnly, in tones that sounded far-off and faint and hollow--“do not -look at this Shadow of Me! Turn, turn away from this dust of Earth -which belongs to the Earth alone,--and watch for the light of Heaven -which comes from Heaven alone! O my love, my belovëd!--if you are -wise, if you are brave, if you are strong, turn away from beholding -this Image of Me, which is not Myself,--and look for me where the -roses are--there will I stand and wait!” - -As the last word left her lips she sank back on her pillows, inert, -and deathly pale; but El-Râmi, dazed and bewildered though he was, -retained sufficient consciousness to understand vaguely what she -meant,--he was not to look at her as she lay there,--he was to forget -that such a Lilith as he knew existed,--he was to look for another -Lilith there--“where the roses are.” Mechanically, and almost as if -some invisible power commanded and controlled his volition, he turned -sideways round from the couch, and fixed his gaze on the branching -flowers, which from the crystal vase that held them lifted their -pale-pink heads daintily aloft as though they took the lamp that swung -from the ceiling for some little new sun, specially invented for their -pleasure. Why,--there was nothing there ... “Nothing there!” he half -muttered with a beating heart, rubbing his eyes and staring hard -before him, ... nothing--nothing at all, but the roses themselves, and -... and ... yes!--a Light behind them!--a light that wavered round -them and began to stretch upward in wide circling rings! - -El-Râmi gazed and gazed, ... saying over and over again to himself -that it was the reflection of the lamp, ... the glitter of that stray -moonbeam there, ... or something wrong with his own faculty of vision, -... and yet he gazed on, as though for the moment all his being were -made of eyes. The roses trembled and swayed to and fro delicately as -the strange Light widened and brightened behind their blossoming -clusters,--a light that seemed to palpitate with all the wondrous -living tints of the rising sun when it shoots forth its first golden -rays from the foaming green hollows of the sea. Upward, upward and -ever upward the deepening glory extended, till the lamp paled and grew -dimmer than the spark of a feeble match struck as a rival to a flash -of lightning,--and El-Râmi’s breath came and went in hard panting -gasps as he stood watching it in speechless immobility. - -Suddenly, two broad shafts of rainbow luminance sprang, as it seemed, -from the ground, and blazed against the purple hangings of the room -with such a burning dazzle of prismatic colouring in every glittering -line that it was well-nigh impossible for human sight to bear it, and -yet El-Râmi would rather have been stricken stone-blind than move. -Had he been capable of thought, he might have remembered the beautiful -old Greek myths which so truthfully and frequently taught the lesson -that to look upon the purely divine meant death to the purely human; -but he could not think,--all his own mental faculties were for the -time rendered numb and useless. His eyes ached and smarted as though -red-hot needles were being plunged into them, but though he was -conscious of, he was indifferent to, the pain. His whole mind was -concentrated on watching the mysterious radiance of those wing-shaped -rays in the room,--and now ... now while he gazed, he began to -perceive an outline between the rays, ... a Shape, becoming every -second more and more distinct, as though some invisible heavenly -artist were drawing the semblance of Beauty in air with a pencil -dipped in morning-glory. ... O wonderful, ineffable Vision!--O -marvellous breaking-forth of the buds of life that are hid in the -quiet ether!--where, where in the vast wealth and reproduction of -deathless and delicate atoms, is the Beginning of things?--where the -End? ... - -Presently appeared soft curves, and glimmers of vapoury white flushed -with rose, suggestive of fire seen through mountain-mist,--then came a -glittering flash of gold that went rippling and ever rippling -backward, like the flowing fall of lovely hair; and the dim Shape grew -still more clearly visible, seeming to gather substance and solidity -from the very light that encircled it. Had it any human likeness? -Yes;--yet the resemblance it bore to humanity was so far away, so -exalted and ideal, as to be no more like our material form than the -actual splendour of the sun is like its painted image. The stature and -majesty and brilliancy of it increased,--and now the unspeakable -loveliness of a Face too fair for any mortal fairness began to suggest -itself dimly; ... El-Râmi, growing faint and dizzy, thought he -distinguished white outstretched arms, and hands uplifted in an -ecstasy of prayer;--nay,--though he felt himself half swooning in the -struggle he made to overcome his awe and fear, he would have sworn -that two star-like eyes, full-orbed and splendid with a radiant blue -as of Heaven’s own forget-me-nots, were turned upon him with a -questioning appeal, a hope, a supplication, a love beyond all -eloquence! ... But his strength was rapidly failing him;--unsupported -by faith, his mere unassisted flesh and blood could endure no more of -this supernatural sight, and ... all suddenly, ... the tension of his -nerves gave way, and morbid terrors shook his frame. A blind frenzied -feeling that he was sinking,--sinking out of sight and sense into a -drear profound, possessed him, and, hardly knowing what he did, he -turned desperately to the couch where Lilith, the Lilith he knew best, -lay, and looking,---- - -“Ah God!” he cried, pierced to the heart by the bitterest anguish he -had ever known,--Lilith--_his_ Lilith was withering before his very -eyes! The exquisite Body he had watched and tended was shrunken and -yellow as a fading leaf,--the face, no longer beautiful, was gaunt and -pinched and skeleton-like--the lips were drawn in and blue,--and -strange convulsions shook the wrinkling and sunken breast! - -In one mad moment he forgot everything,--forgot the imperishable Soul -for the perishing Body,--forgot his long studies and high -ambitions,--and could think of nothing, except that this human -creature he had saved from death seemed now to be passing into death’s -long-denied possession,--and throwing himself on the couch he clutched -at his fading treasure with the desperation of frenzy. - -“Lilith!--Lilith!” he cried hoarsely, the extremity of his terror -choking his voice to a smothered wild moan--“Lilith! My love, my idol, -my spirit, my saint! Come back!--come back!” - -And clasping her in his arms he covered with burning kisses the thin -peaked face--the shrinking flesh,--the tarnished lustre of the once -bright hair. - -“Lilith! Lilith!” he wailed, dry-eyed and fevered with agony--“Lilith, -I love you! Has love no force to keep you? Lilith, love Lilith! You -shall not leave me,--you are mine--mine! I stole you from death--I -kept you from God!--from all the furies of heaven and earth!--you -_shall_ come back to me--I love you!” - -And lo! ... as he spoke the body he held to his heart grew warm,--the -flesh filled up and regained its former softness and roundness--the -features took back their loveliness--the fading hair brightened to its -wonted rich tint and rippled upon the pillows in threads of gold--the -lips reddened,--the eyelids quivered, the little hands, trembling -gently like birds’ wings, nestled round his throat with a caress that -thrilled his whole being and calmed the tempest of his grief as -suddenly as when of old the Master walked upon the raging sea of -Galilee and said to it “Peace, be still!” - -Yet this very calmness oppressed him heavily,--like a cold hand laid -on a fevered brow it chilled his blood even while it soothed his pain. -He was conscious of a sense of irreparable loss,--and moreover he felt -he had been a coward,--a coward physically and morally. For, instead -of confronting the Supernatural, or what seemed the Supernatural, -calmly, and with the inquisitorial research of a scientist, he had -allowed himself to be overcome by It, and had fled back to the -consideration of the merely human, with all the delirious speed of a -lover and fool. Nevertheless he had his Lilith--his own Lilith,--and, -holding her jealously to his heart, he presently turned his head -tremblingly and in doubt to where the roses nodded drowsily in their -crystal vase;--only the roses now were there! The marvellous Wingëd -Brightness had fled, and the place it had illumined seemed by contrast -very dark. The Soul,--the Immortal Self--had vanished;--the subtle -Being he had longed to see, and whose existence and capabilities he -had meant to “prove”; and he, who had consecrated his life and labour -to the attainment of this one object, had failed to grasp the full -solution of the mystery at the very moment when it might have been -his. By his own weakness he had lost the Soul,--by his own strength he -had gained the Body, or so he thought, and his mind was torn between -triumph and regret. He was not yet entirely conscious of what had -chanced to him--he could formulate no idea,--all he distinctly knew -was that he held Lilith, warm and living, in his arms, and that he -felt her light breath upon his cheek. - -“Love is enough!” he murmured, kissing the hair that lay in golden -clusters against his breast--“Waken, my Lilith!--waken!--and in our -perfect joy we will defy all gods and angels!” - -She stirred in his clasp,--he bent above her, eager, ardent, -expectant,--her long eyelashes trembled,--and then,--slowly, slowly, -like white leaves opening to the sun, the lids upcurled, disclosing -the glorious eyes beneath, eyes that had been closed to earthly things -for six long years,--deep, starry violet-blue eyes that shone with the -calm and holy lustre of unspeakable purity and peace,--eyes that in -their liquid softness held all the appeal, hope, supplication and -eloquent love, he had seen (or fancied he had seen) in the strange -eyes of the only half-visible Soul! The Soul indeed was looking -through its earthly windows for the last time, had he known it,--but -he did not know it. Raised to a giddy pinnacle of delight as suddenly -as he had been lately plunged into an abyss of grief and terror, he -gazed into those newly-opened wondrous worlds of mute expression with -all a lover’s pride, passion, tenderness and longing. - -“Fear nothing, Lilith!” he said--“It is I! I whose voice you have -answered and obeyed,--I, your lover and lord! It is I who claim you, -my belovëd!--I who bid you waken from death to life!” - -Oh, what a smile of dazzling rapture illumined her face!--it was as if -the sun in all his glory had suddenly broken out of a cloud to -brighten her beauty with his purest beams. Her childlike, innocent, -wondering eyes remained fixed upon El-Râmi,--lifting her white arms -languidly she closed them round about him with a gentle fervour that -seemed touched by compassion,--and he, thrilled to the quick by that -silent expression of tenderness, straightway ascended to a heaven of -blind, delirious ecstasy. He wanted no word from her ... what use of -words!--her silence was the perfect eloquence of love! All her beauty -was his own--his very own! ... he had willed it so,--and his will had -won its way,--the iron Will of a strong wise man without a God to help -him!--and all he feared was that he might die of his own excess of -triumph and joy! ... Hush! ... hush! ... Music again!--that same deep -sound as of the wind among trees, or the solemn organ-chord that -closes the song of departing choristers. It was strange,--very -strange!--but, though he heard, he scarcely heeded it; unearthly -terrors could not shake him now,--not now, while he held Lilith to his -heart, and devoured her loveliness with his eyes, curve by curve, line -by line, till with throbbing pulses, and every nerve tingling in his -body, he bent his face down to hers, and pressed upon her lips a long, -burning, passionate kiss! ... - -But, even as he did so, she was wrenched fiercely out of his hold by a -sudden and awful convulsion,--her slight frame writhed and twisted -itself away from his clasp with a shuddering recoil of muscular -agony--once her little hands clutched the air, ... and then, ... then, -the brief struggle over, her arms dropped rigidly at her sides, and -her whole body swerved and fell backward heavily upon the pillows of -the couch, stark, pallid and pulseless! ... And he,--he, gazing upon -her thus with a vague and stupid stare, wondered dimly whether he were -mad or dreaming? ... - -What ... what was this sudden ailment? ... this ... this strange -swoon? What bitter frost had stolen into _her_ veins? ... what -insatiable hell-fire was consuming _his_? Those eyes, ... those just -unclosed, innocent lovely eyes of Lilith, ... was it possible, could -it be true that all the light had gone out of them?--gone, utterly -gone? And what was that clammy film beginning to cover them over with -a glazing veil of blankness? ... God! ... God! ... he must be in a -wild nightmare, he thought! ... he should wake up presently and find -all this seeming disaster unreal,--the fantastic fear of a sick brain -... the “clangour and anger of elements” imaginative, not actual, ... -and here his reeling terror found voice in a hoarse, smothered cry-- - -“Lilith! ... Lilith! ...” - -But stop, stop! ... was it Lilith indeed whom he thus called? ... -_That_? ... that gaunt, sunken, rigid form, growing swiftly hideous! -... yes--hideous, with those dull marks of blue discoloration coming -here and there on the no longer velvety fair skin! - -“Lilith! ... Lilith!” - -The name was lost and drowned in the wave of solemn music that rolled -and throbbed upon the air, and El-Râmi’s distorted mind, catching at -the dread suggestiveness of that unearthly harmony, accepted it as a -sort of invisible challenge. - -“What, good Death! brother Death, are you there?” he muttered -fiercely, shaking his clenched fist at vacancy--“Are you here, and are -you everywhere? Nay, we have crossed swords before now in desperate -combat ... and I have won! ... and I will win again! Hands off, rival -Death! Lilith is mine!” - -And, snatching from his breast a phial of the liquid with which he had -so long kept Lilith living in a trance, he swiftly injected it into -her veins, and forced some drops between her lips ... in vain ... in -vain! No breath came back to stir that silent breast--no sign whatever -of returning animation evinced itself, only ... at the expiration of -the few moments which generally sufficed the vital fluid for its -working, there chanced a strange and terrible thing. Wherever the -liquid had made its way, there the skin blistered, and the flesh -blackened, as though the whole body were being consumed by some fierce -inward fire; and El-Râmi, looking with strained wild eyes at this -destructive result of his effort to save, at last realised to the full -all the awfulness, all the dire agony of his fate! The Soul of Lilith -had departed for ever; ... even as the Cyprian monk had said, it had -outgrown its earthly tenement, ... its cord of communication with the -body had been mysteriously and finally severed,--and the Body itself -was crumbling into ashes before his very sight, helped into swifter -dissolution by the electric potency of his own vaunted “life-elixir”! -It was horrible ... horrible! ... was there _no_ remedy? - -Staring himself almost blind with despair, he dashed the phial on the -ground, and stamped it under his heel in an excess of impotent fury, -... the veins in his forehead swelled with a fulness of aching blood -almost to bursting, ... he could do nothing, ... nothing! His science -was of no avail;--his Will,--his proud inflexible Will was “as a reed -shaken in the wind!” ... Ha! ... the old stock phrase! ... it had been -said before, in old times and in new, by canting creatures who -believed in Prayer. Prayer!--would it bring back beauty and vitality -to that blackening corpse before him? ... that disfigured, withering -clay he had once called Lilith! ... How ghastly It looked! ... -Shuddering violently he turned away,--turned,--to meet the grave sweet -eyes of the pictured Christ on the wall, ... to read again the words, -“Whom say ye that I am?” The letters danced before him in characters -of flame, ... there seemed a great noise everywhere as of clashing -steam-hammers and great church-bells,--the world was reeling round him -as giddily as a spun wheel. - -“Robber of the Soul of Lilith!” he muttered between his set -teeth--“Whoever you be, whether God or Devil, I will find you out! I -will pursue you to the uttermost ends of vast infinitude! I will -contest her with you yet, for surely she is mine! What right have you, -O Force Unknown, to steal my love from me? Answer me! prove yourself -God, as I prove myself Man! Declare _something_, O mute Inflexible! -_Do_ something other than mechanically grind out a reasonless, -unexplained Life and Death for ever! O Lilith!--faithless Angel!--did -you not say that love was sweet?--and could not love keep you -here,--here, with me, your lover, Lilith?” - -Involuntarily and with cowering reluctance, his eyes turned again -towards the couch,--but now--now ... the horror of that decaying -beauty, interiorly burning itself away to nothingness, was more than -he could bear ... a mortal sickness seized him,--and he flung up his -arms with a desperate gesture as though he sought to drag down some -covering wherewith to hide himself and his utter misery. - -“Defeated, baffled, befooled!” he exclaimed frantically--“Conquered by -the Invisible and Invincible after all! Conquered! I! ... Who would -have thought it! Hear me, earth and heaven!--hear me, O rolling world -of human Wretchedness, hear me!--for I have proved a Truth! There is -a God!--a jealous God--jealous of the Soul of Lilith!--a God -tyrannical, absolute, and powerful--a God of infinite and inexorable -Justice. O God, I know you!--I own you--I meet you! I am part of you -as the worm is!--and you can change me, but you cannot destroy me! You -have done your worst,--you have fought against your own Essence in me, -till light has turned to darkness and love to bitterness;--you have -left me no help, no hope, no comfort; what more remains to do, O -terrible God of a million Universes! ... what more? Gone--gone is the -Soul of Lilith--but Where? Where in the vast Unknowable shall I find -my love again? ... Teach me _that_, O God! ... give me that one small -clue through the million million intricate webs of star-systems, and I -too will fall blindly down and adore an Imaginary Good in visible and -all-paramount Evil! ... I too will sacrifice reason, pride, wisdom and -power and become as a fool for Love’s sake! ... I too will grovel -before an unproved Symbol of Divinity as a savage grovels before his -stone fetish, ... I will be weak, not strong, I will babble prayers -with the children, ... only take me where Lilith is, ... bring me to -Lilith ... angel Lilith! ... love Lilith! ... my Lilith! ... ah God! -God! Have mercy ... mercy! ...” - -His voice broke suddenly in a sharp jarring shriek of delirious -laughter,--blood sprang to his mouth,--and with a blind movement of -his arms, as of one in thick darkness seeking light, he fell heavily -face forward, insensible on the couch where the Body he had loved, -deprived of its Soul, lay crumbling swiftly away into hideous -disfigurement and ashes. - - - - - XXXVIII. - -“_Awake, Féraz! To-day dreams end, and Life begins._” - -The words sounded so distinctly in his ears that the half-roused -Féraz turned drowsily on his pillows and opened his eyes, fully -expecting to see the speaker of them in his room. But there was no -one. It was early morning,--the birds were twittering in the outer -yard, and bright sunshine poured through the window. He had had a long -and refreshing sleep,--and sitting up in his bed he stretched himself -with a sense of refreshment and comfort, the while he tried to think -what had so mysteriously and unpleasantly oppressed him with -forebodings on the previous night. By and by he remembered the singing -voices in the air and smiled. - -“All my fancy of course!” he said lightly, springing up and beginning -to dash the fresh cold water of his morning bath over his polished -bronze-like skin, till all his nerves tingled with the pleasurable -sensation--“I am always hearing music of some sort or other. I believe -music is pent up in the air, and loosens itself at intervals like the -rain. Why not? There must be such a wealth of melody aloft,--all the -songs of all the birds,--all the whisperings of all the leaves;--all -the dash and rush of the rivers, waterfalls and oceans,--it is all in -the air, and I believe it falls in a shower sometimes and penetrates -the brains of musicians like Beethoven, Schumann and Wagner.” - -Amused with his own fantastic imaginings he hummed a tune _sotto voce_ -as he donned his easy and picturesque attire,--then he left his room -and went to his brother’s study to set it in order for the day, as was -his usual custom. - -He opened the door softly and with caution, because El-Râmi often -slept there on the hard soldier’s couch that occupied one corner,--but -this morning all was exactly as it had been left at night,--the books -and papers were undisturbed,--and, curiously enough, the little -sanctum presented a vacant and deserted appearance, as though it would -dumbly express a fear that its master was gone from it for ever. How -such a notion suggested itself to Féraz, he could not tell,--but he -was certainly conscious of a strange sinking at the heart, as he -paused in the act of throwing open one of the windows, and looked -round the quiet room. Had anything been moved or displaced during the -night that he should receive such a general impression of utter -emptiness? Nothing--so far as he could judge;--there was his brother’s -ebony chair wheeled slightly aside from the desk,--there were the -great globes, terrestrial and celestial,--there were the various -volumes lately used for reference,--and, apart from these, on the -table, was the old vellum book in Arabic that Féraz had once before -attempted to read. It was open,--a circumstance that struck Féraz -with some surprise, for he could not recall having seen it in that -position last evening. Perhaps El-Râmi had come down in the night to -refer to it and had left it there by accident? Féraz felt he must -examine it more nearly, and, approaching, he rested his elbows on the -table and fixed his eyes on the Arabic page before him which was -headed in scrolled lettering “The Mystery of Death.” As he read the -words, a beautiful butterfly flew in through the open window and -circled joyously round his head, till, presently espying the bunch of -heliotrope in the glass where Féraz had set it the previous day, it -fluttered off to that, and settled on the scented purple bloom, its -pretty wings quivering with happiness. Mechanically Féraz watched its -flight,--then his eyes returned and dwelt once more on the -time-stained lettering before him; “The Mystery of Death,”--and -following the close lines with his forefinger, he soon made out the -ensuing passages. “The Mystery of Death. Whereas, of this there is no -mystery at all, as the ignorant suppose, but only a clearing up of -many intricate matters. When the body dies,--or to express it with -more pertinacious exactitude, when the body resolves itself into the -living organisms of which earth is composed, it is because the Soul -has outgrown its mortal habitation and can no longer endure the -cramping narrowness of the same. We speak unjustly of the aged, -because by their taciturnity and inaptitude for worldly business, they -seem to us foolish, and of a peevish weakness; it should however be -remembered that it is a folly to complain of the breaking of the husk -when the corn is ripe. In old age the Soul is weary of and indifferent -to earthly things, and makes of its tiresome tenement a querulous -reproach,--it has exhausted earth’s pleasures and surpassed earth’s -needs, and palpitates for larger movement. When this is gained, the -husk falls, the grain sprouts forth--the Soul is freed,--and all -Nature teaches this lesson. To call the process ‘death’ and a -‘mystery’ is to repeat the error of barbarian ages,--for once the Soul -has no more use for the Body, you cannot detain it,--you cannot -compress its wings,--you cannot stifle its nature,--and, being -Eternal, it demands Eternity.” - -“All that is true enough;”--murmured Féraz--“As true as any truth -possible, and yet people will not accept or understand it. All the -religions, all the preachers, all the teachers seem to avail them -nothing,--and they go on believing in death far more than in life. -What a sad and silly world it is!--always planning for itself and -never for God, and only turning to God in imminent danger like a -coward schoolboy who says he is sorry because he fears a whipping.” - -Here he lifted his eyes from the book, feeling that some one was -looking at him, and, true enough, there in the doorway stood Zaroba. -Her withered face had an anxious expression and she held up a warning -finger. - -“Hush! ...” she said whisperingly. ... “No noise! ... where is -El-Râmi?” - -Féraz replied by a gesture, indicating that he was still upstairs at -work on his mysterious “experiment.” - -Zaroba advanced slowly into the room, and seated herself on the -nearest chair. - -“My mind misgives me;”--she said in low awe-stricken tones,--“My mind -misgives me; I have had dreams--_such_ dreams! All night I have tossed -and turned,--my head throbs here,”--and she pressed both hands upon -her brow,--“and my heart--my heart aches! I have seen strange -creatures clad in white,--ghostly faces of the past have stared at -me,--my dead children have caressed me,--my dead husband has kissed me -on the lips,--a kiss of ice, freezing me to the marrow. What does it -bode? No good--no good!--but ill! Like the sound of the flying feet of -the whirlwind that brings death to the sons of the desert, there is a -sound in my brain which says--‘Sorrow! Sorrow!’ again and yet again -‘Sorrow!’” - -Sighing, she clasped her hands about her knees and rocked herself to -and fro, as though she were in pain. Féraz stood gazing at her -wistfully and with a somewhat troubled air,--her words impressed him -uncomfortably,--her very attitude suggested misery. The sunlight -beaming across her bent figure, flashed on the silver bangles that -circled her brown arms, and touched her rough gray hair to flecks of -brightness,--her black eyes almost hid themselves under their tired -drooping lids,--and when she ceased speaking her lips still moved as -though she inwardly muttered some weird incantation. Growing impatient -with her, he knew not why, the young man paced slowly up and down the -room; her deafness precluded him from speaking to her, and he just now -had no inclination to communicate with her in the usual way by -writing. And while he thus walked about, she continued her rocking -movement, and peered at him dubiously from under her bushy gray brows. - -“It is ill work meddling with the gods;”--she began again -presently--“In old time they were vengeful,--and have they changed -because the times are new? Nay, nay! The nature of a man may alter -with the course of his passions,--but the nature of a god!--who shall -make it otherwise than what it has been from the beginning? Cruel, -cruel are the ways of the gods when they are thwarted;--there is no -mercy in the blind eyes of Fate! To tempt Destiny is to ask the -thunderbolt to fall and smite you,--to oppose the gods is as though a -babe’s hand should essay to lift the Universe. Have I not prayed the -Master, the wise and the proud El-Râmi Zarânos, to submit and not -contend? As God liveth, I say, let us submit while we can like the -slaves that we are, for in submission alone is safety!” - -Féraz heard her with increasing irritation,--why need she come to him -with all this melancholy jabbering, he thought angrily. He leaned far -out of the open window and looked at the ugly houses of the little -square,--at the sooty trees, the sparrows hopping and quarrelling in -the road, the tradesmen’s carts that every now and again dashed to and -from their various customers’ doors in the aggravatingly mad fashion -they affect, and tried to realise that he was actually in busy -practical London, and not, as seemed at the moment more likely, in -some cavern of an Eastern desert, listening to an ancient sibyl -croaking misfortune. Just then a neighbouring clock struck nine, and -he hastily drew in his head from the outer air, and, making language -with his eloquent fingers, he mutely asked Zaroba if she were going -upstairs now, or whether she meant to wait till El-Râmi himself came -down? - -She left off rocking to and fro, and half rose from her chair,--then -she hesitated. - -“I have never waited”--she said--“before,--and why? Because the voice -of the Master has roused me from my deepest slumbers,--and, like a -finger of fire laid on my brain, his very thought has summoned my -attendance. But this morning no such voice has called,--no such -burning touch has stirred my senses,--how should I know what I must -do? If I go unbidden, will he not be angered?--and his anger works -like a poison in my blood! ... yet ... it is late, ... and his silence -is strange----” - -She paused, passing her hand wearily across her eyes,--then stood up, -apparently resolved. - -“I will obey the voices that whisper to me,”--she said, with a certain -majestic resignation and gravity--“The voices that cry to my heart -‘Sorrow! Sorrow!’ and yet again ‘Sorrow!’ If grief must come, then -welcome, grief!--one cannot gainsay the Fates. I will go hence and -prove the message of the air,--for the air holds invisible tongues -that do not lie.” - -With a slow step she moved across the room,--and on a sudden impulse -Féraz sprang towards her exclaiming, “Zaroba!--stay!”--then -recollecting she could not hear a word, he checked himself and drew -aside to let her pass, with an air of indifference which he was far -from feeling. He was in truth wretched and ill at ease,--the -exhilaration with which he had arisen from sleep had given way to -intense depression, and he could not tell what ailed him. - -“_Awake, Féraz! To-day dreams end, and life begins._” Those were the -strange words he had heard the first thing on awaking that -morning,--what could they mean, he wondered rather sadly? If dreams -were indeed to end, he would be sorry,--and if life, as mortals -generally lived it, were to begin for him, why then, he would be -sorrier still. Troubled and perplexed, he began to set the breakfast -in order, hoping by occupation to divert his thoughts and combat the -miserable feeling of vague dread which oppressed him, and which, -though he told himself how foolish and unreasonable it was, remained -increasingly persistent. All at once such a cry rang through the house -as almost turned his blood to ice,--a cry wild, despairing and full of -agony. It was repeated with piercing vehemence,--and Féraz, his heart -beating furiously, cleared the space of the room with one breathless -bound and rushed upstairs, there to confront Zaroba tossing her arms -distractedly and beating her breast like a creature demented. - -“Lilith!” she gasped,--“Lilith has gone ... gone! ... and El-Râmi is -dead!” - - - - - XXXIX. - -Pushing the panic-stricken woman aside, Féraz dashed back the -velvet curtains, and for the second time in his life penetrated the -mysterious chamber. Once in the beautiful room, rich with its purple -colour and warmth, he stopped as though he were smitten with sudden -paralysis,--every artery in his body pulsated with terror,--it was -true! ... true that Lilith was no longer there! This was the first -astounding fact that bore itself in with awful conviction on his dazed -and bewildered mind;--the next thing he saw was the figure of his -brother, kneeling motionless by the vacant couch. Hushing his steps -and striving to calm his excitement, Féraz approached more nearly, -and throwing his arms round El-Râmi’s shoulders endeavoured to raise -him,--but all his efforts made no impression on that bent and rigid -form. Turning his eyes once more to the ivory blankness of the satin -couch on which the maiden Lilith had so long reclined, he saw with awe -and wonder the distinct impression of where her figure had been, -marked and hollowed out into deep curves and lines, which in their -turn were outlined by a tracing of fine grayish-white dust, like -sifted ashes. Following the track of this powdery substance, he still -more clearly discerned the impress of her vanished shape; and, -shuddering in every limb, he asked himself--Could that--that dust--be -all--all that was left of ... of Lilith? ... What dire tragedy had -been enacted during the night?--what awful catastrophe had chanced to -_her_--to _him_, his beloved brother, whom he strove once more to lift -from his kneeling position, but in vain. Zaroba stood beside him, -shivering, wailing, staring, and wringing her hands, till Féraz -dry-eyed and desperate, finding his own strength not sufficient, bade -her, by a passionate gesture, assist him. Trembling violently, she -obeyed, and between them both they at last managed to drag El-Râmi up -from the ground and get him to a chair, where Féraz chafed his hands, -bathed his forehead, and used every possible means to restore -animation. Did his heart still beat? Yes, feebly and irregularly;--and -presently one or two faint gasping sighs came from the labouring -breast. - -“Thank God!” muttered Féraz--“Whatever has happened, he lives!--Thank -God he lives! When he recovers, he will tell me all;--there can be no -secrets now between him and me.” - -And he resumed his quick and careful ministrations, while Zaroba still -wailed and wrung her hands, and stared miserably at the empty couch, -whereon her beautiful charge had lain, slumbering away the hours and -days for six long years. She too saw the little heaps and trackings of -gray dust on the pillows and coverlid, and her feeble limbs shook with -such terror that she could scarcely stand. - -“The gods have taken her!” she whispered faintly through her pallid -lips--“The gods are avenged! When did they ever have mercy! They have -claimed their own with the breath and the fire of lightning, and the -dust of a maiden’s beauty is no more than the dust of a flower! The -dreadful, terrible gods are avenged--at last ... at last!” - -And sinking down upon the floor, she huddled herself together, and -drew her yellow draperies over her head, after the Eastern manner of -expressing inconsolable grief, and covered her aged features from the -very light of day. - -Féraz heeded her not at all, his sole attention being occupied in the -care of his brother, whose large black eyes now opened suddenly and -regarded him with a vacant expression like the eyes of a blind man. A -great shudder ran through his frame,--he looked curiously at his own -hands as Féraz gently pressed and rubbed them,--and he stared all -round the room in vaguely-inquiring wonderment. Presently his -wandering glance came back to Féraz, and the vacancy of his -expression softened into a certain pleased mildness,--his lips parted -in a little smile, but he said nothing. - -“You are better, El-Râmi, my brother?” murmured Féraz caressingly, -trembling and almost weeping in the excess of his affectionate -anxiety, the while he placed his own figure so that it might obstruct -a too immediate view of Lilith’s vacant couch, and the covered -crouching form of old Zaroba beside it--“You have no pain? ... you do -not suffer?” - -El-Râmi made no answer for the moment;--he was looking at Féraz with -a gentle but puzzled inquisitiveness. Presently his dark brows -contracted slightly, as though he were trying to connect some -perplexing chain of ideas,--then he gave a slight gesture of fatigue -and indifference. - -“You will excuse me, I hope,--” he then said with plaintive -courtesy--“I have forgotten your name. I believe I met you once, but I -cannot remember where.” - -The heart of poor Féraz stood still, ... a great sob rose in his -throat. But he checked it bravely,--he would not, he could not, he -dared not give way to the awful fear that began to creep like a frost -through his warm young blood. - -“You cannot remember Féraz?” he said gently--“Your own Féraz? ... -your little brother, to whom you have been life, hope, joy, -work--everything of value in the world!” Here his voice failed him, -and he nearly broke down. - -El-Râmi looked at him in grave surprise. - -“You are very good!” he murmured, with a feebly polite wave of his -hand;--“You overrate my poor powers. I am glad to have been useful to -you--very glad!” - -Here he paused;--his head sank forward on his breast, and his eyes -closed. - -“El-Râmi!” cried Féraz, the hot tears forcing their way between his -eyelids--“Oh, my belovëd brother!--have you no thought for me?” - -El-Râmi opened his eyes and stared;--then smiled. - -“No thought?” he repeated--“Oh, you mistake!--I have thought very -much,--very much indeed, about many things. Not about you -perhaps,--but then I do not know you. You say your name is -Féraz,--that is very strange; it is not at all a common name. I only -knew one Féraz,--he was my brother, or seemed so for a time,--but I -found out afterwards, ... hush! ... come closer! ...” and he lowered -his voice to a whisper,--“that he was not a mortal, but an angel,--the -angel of a Star. The Star knew him better than I did.” - -Féraz turned away his head,--the tears were falling down his -cheeks--he could not speak. He realised the bitter truth,--the -delicate overstrained mechanism of his brother’s mind had given way -under excessive pain and pressure,--that brilliant, proud, astute, -cold and defiant intellect was all unstrung and out of gear, and -rendered useless, perchance for ever. - -El-Râmi however seemed to have some glimmering perception of Féraz’s -grief, for he put out a trembling hand and turned his brother’s face -towards him with gentle concern. - -“Tears?” he said in a surprised tone--“Why should you weep? There is -nothing to weep for;--God is very good.” - -And with an effort, he rose from the chair in which he had sat, and -standing upright, looked about him. His eye at once lighted on the -vase of roses at the foot of the couch and he began to tremble -violently. Féraz caught him by the arm,--and then he seemed startled -and afraid. - -“She promised, ... she promised!” he began in an incoherent rambling -way--“and you must not interfere,--you must let me do her bidding. -‘Look for me where the roses are; there will I stand and wait!’ She -said that,--and she will wait, and I will look, for she is sure to -keep her word--no angel ever forgets. You must not hinder me;--I have -to watch and pray,--you must help me, not hinder me. I shall die if -you will not let me do what she asks;--you cannot tell how sweet her -voice is;--she talks to me and tells me of such wonderful -things,--things too beautiful to be believed, yet they are true. I -know so well my work;--work that must be done,--you will not hinder -me?” - -“No, no!”--said Féraz, in anguish himself, yet willing to say -anything to soothe his brother’s trembling excitement--“No, no! You -shall not be hindered,--I will help you,--I will watch with you,--I -will pray ...” and here again the poor fellow nearly broke down into -womanish sobbing. - -“Yes!” said El-Râmi, eagerly catching at the word--“Pray! You will -pray--and so will I;--that is good,--that is what I need,--prayer, -they say, draws all Heaven down to earth. It is strange,--but so it -is. You know”--he added, with a faint gleam of intelligence lighting -up for a moment his wandering eyes--“Lilith is not here! Not here, nor -there, ... she is Everywhere!” - -A terrible pallor stole over his face, giving it almost the livid hue -of death,--and Féraz, alarmed, threw one arm strongly and resolutely -about him. But El-Râmi crouched and shuddered, and hid his eyes as -though he strove to shelter himself from the fury of a whirlwind. - -“Everywhere!” he moaned--“In the flowers, in the trees, in the winds, -in the sound of the sea, in the silence of the night, in the slow -breaking of the dawn,--in all these things is the Soul of Lilith! -Beautiful, indestructible, terrible Lilith! She permeates the world, -she pervades the atmosphere, she shapes and unshapes herself at -pleasure,--she floats, or flies, or sleeps at will;--in substance, a -cloud;--in radiance, a rainbow! She is the essence of God in the -transient shape of an angel--never the same, but for ever immortal. -She soars aloft--she melts like mist in the vast Unseen!--and I--I--I -shall never find her, never know her, never see her, never, never -again!” - -The harrowing tone of voice in which he uttered these words pierced -Féraz to the heart, but he would not give way to his own emotion. - -“Come, El-Râmi!” he said very gently--“Do not stay here,--come with -me. You are weak,--rest on my arm; you must try and recover your -strength,--remember, you have work to do.” - -“True, true!” said El-Râmi, rousing himself--“Yes, you are -right,--there is much to be done. Nothing is so difficult as patience. -To be left all alone, and to be patient, is very hard,--but I will -come,--I will come.” - -He suffered himself to be led towards the door,--then, all at once he -came to an abrupt standstill, and looking round, gazed full on the -empty couch where Lilith had so long been royally enshrined. A sudden -passion seemed to seize him--his eyes sparkled luridly,--a sort of -inward paroxysm convulsed his features, and he clutched Féraz by the -shoulder with a grip as hard as steel. - -“Roses and lilies and gold!” he muttered thickly--“They were all -there, those delicate treasures, those airy nothings of which God -makes woman! Roses for the features, lilies for the bosom, gold for -the hair!--roses, lilies, and gold! They were mine,--but I have burned -them all!--I have burned the roses and lilies, and melted the gold. -Dust!--dust and ashes! But the dust is not Lilith. No!--it is only the -dust of the roses, the dust of the lilies, the dust of gold. Roses, -lilies, and gold! So sweet they are and fair to the sight, one would -almost take them for real substance; but they are Shadows!--shadows -that pass as we touch them,--shadows that always go, when most we -would have them stay!” - -He finished with a deep shuddering sigh, and then, loosening his grasp -of Féraz, began to stumble his way hurriedly out of the apartment, -with the manner of one who is lost in a dense fog and cannot see -whither he is going. Féraz hastened to assist and support him, -whereupon he looked up with a pathetic and smiling gratefulness. - -“You are very good to me,” he said, with a gentle courtesy, which in -his condition was peculiarly touching--“I thought I should never need -any support;--but I was wrong--quite wrong,--and it is kind of you to -help me. My eyes are rather dim,--there was too much light among the -roses, ... and I find this place extremely dark, ... it makes me feel -a little confused _here_;”--and he passed his hand across his forehead -with a troubled gesture, and looked anxiously at Féraz, as though he -would ask him for some explanation of his symptoms. - -“Yes, yes!” murmured Féraz soothingly--“You must be tired--you will -rest, and presently you will feel strong and well again. Do not -hurry,--lean on me,”--and he guided his brother’s trembling limbs -carefully down the stairs, a step at a time, thinking within himself -in deep sorrow--Could this be the proud El-Râmi, clinging to him thus -like a weak old man afraid to move? Oh, what a wreck was here!--what a -change had been wrought in the few hours of the past night!--and ever -the fateful question returned again and again to trouble him--What had -become of Lilith? That she was gone was self-evident,--and he gathered -some inkling of the awful truth from his brother’s rambling words. He -remembered that El-Râmi had previously declared Lilith to be _dead_, -so far as her body was concerned, and only kept _apparently_ alive by -artificial means;--he could easily imagine it possible for those -artificial means to lose their efficacy in the end, ... and then, ... -for the girl’s beautiful body to crumble into that dissolution which -would have been its fate long ago, had Nature had her way. All this he -could dimly surmise,--but he had been kept so much in the dark as to -the real aim and intention of his brother’s “experiment” that it was -not likely he would ever understand everything that had occurred;--so -that Lilith’s mysterious evanishment seemed to him like a horrible -delusion;--it could not be! he kept on repeating over and over again -to himself, and yet it was! - -Moving with slow and cautious tread, he got El-Râmi at last into his -own study, wondering whether the sight of the familiar objects he was -daily accustomed to, would bring him back to a reasonable perception -of his surroundings. He waited anxiously, while his brother stood -still, shivering slightly and looking about the room with listless, -unrecognising eyes. Presently, in a voice that was both weary and -petulant, El-Râmi spoke. - -“You will not leave me alone, I hope?” he said; “I am very old and -feeble, and I have done you no wrong,--I do not see why you should -leave me to myself. I should be glad if you would stay with me a -little while, because everything is at present so strange to me;--I -shall no doubt get more accustomed to it in time. You are perhaps not -aware that I wished to live through a great many centuries--and my -wish was granted;--I have lived longer than any man, especially since -She left me,--and now I am growing old, and I am easily tired. I do -not know this place at all--is it a World or a Dream?” - -At this question, it seemed to Féraz that he heard again, like a -silver clarion ringing through silence, the mysterious voice that had -roused him that morning saying, “_Awake, Féraz! To-day dreams end, -and life begins!_” ... He understood, and he bent his head -resignedly,--he knew now what the “life” thus indicated meant;--it -meant a sacrificing of all his poetic aspirations, his music, and his -fantastic happy visions,--a complete immolation of himself and his own -desires, for the sake of his brother. His brother, who had once ruled -him absolutely, was now to be ruled _by_ him;--helpless as a child, -the once self-sufficient and haughty El-Râmi was to be dependent for -everything upon the very creature who had lately been his slave,--and -Féraz, humbly reading in these reversed circumstances the Divine Law -of Compensation, answered his brother’s plaintive query--“Is it a -World or a Dream?” with manful tenderness. - -“It is a World,”--he said--“not a Dream, beloved El-Râmi--but a -Reality. It is a fair garden belonging to God and the things of -God”--he paused, seeing that El-Râmi smiled placidly and nodded his -head as though he heard pleasant music,--then he went on steadily--“a -garden in which immortal spirits wander for a time self-exiled, till -they fully realise the worth and loveliness of the higher lands they -have forsaken. Do you understand me, O dear and honoured one?--do you -understand? None love their home so dearly as those who have left it -for a time--and it is only for a time--a short, short time,”--and -Féraz, deeply moved by his mingled sorrow and affection, kissed and -clasped his brother’s hands--“and all the beauty we see here in this -beautiful small world, is made to remind us of the greater beauty -yonder. We look, as it were, into a little mirror, which reflects, in -exquisite miniature, the face of Heaven! See!”--and he pointed to the -brilliant blaze of sunshine that streamed through the window and -illumined the whole room--“There is the tiny copy of the larger Light -above,--and in that little light the flowers grow, the harvests ripen, -the trees bud, the birds sing, and every living creature -rejoices,--but in the other Greater Light, God lives, and angels love -and have their being;”--here Féraz broke off abruptly, wondering if -he might risk the utterance of the words that next rose involuntarily -to his lips, while El-Râmi gazed at him with great wide-open eager -eyes like those of a child listening to a fairy story. - -“Yes, yes!--what next?” he demanded impatiently--“This is good news -you give me;--the angels love, you say, and God lives,--yes!--tell me -more, ... more!” - -“All angels love and have their being in that Greater -Light,”--continued Féraz softly and steadily--“And there too is -Lilith--beautiful--deathless,--faithful----” - -“True!” cried El-Râmi, with a sort of sobbing cry--“True! ... She is -there,--she promised--and I shall know, ... I shall know where to find -her after all, for she told me plainly--‘Look for me where the roses -are,--there will I stand and wait.’” - -He tottered, and seemed about to fall;--but when Féraz would have -supported him, he shook his head, and pointing tremblingly to the -amber ray of sunshine pouring itself upon the ground: - -“Into the light!”--he murmured--“I am all in the dark;--lead me out of -the darkness into the light.” - -And Féraz led him, where he desired, and seated him in his own chair -in the full glory of the morning radiance that rippled about him like -molten gold, and shone caressingly on his white hair,--his dark face -that in its great pallor looked as though it were carved in -bronze,--and his black, piteous, wandering eyes. A butterfly danced -towards him in the sparkling shower of sunbeams, the same that had -flown in an hour before and alighted on the heliotrope that adorned -the centre of the table. El-Râmi’s attention was attracted by it--and -he watched its airy flutterings with a pleased, yet vacant smile. Then -he stretched out his hands in the golden light, and lifting them -upward, clasped them together and closed his eyes. - -“Our Father!” ... he murmured; “which art in Heaven! ... Hallowed be -Thy Name!” - -Féraz, bending heedfully over him, caught the words as they were -faintly whispered,--caught the hands as they dropped inert from their -supplicating posture and laid them gently back;--then listened again -with strained attention, the pitying tears gathering thick upon his -lashes. - -“Our Father!” ... once more that familiar appeal of kinship to the -Divine stole upon the air like a far-off sigh,--then came the sound of -regular and quiet breathing;--Nature had shed upon the overtaxed brain -her balm of blessed unconsciousness,--and like a tired child, the -proud El-Râmi slept. - - - - - XL. - -Upstairs meanwhile, in the room that had been Lilith’s there reigned -the silence of a deep desolation. The woman Zaroba still crouched -there, huddled on the floor, a mere heap of amber draperies,--her head -covered, her features hidden. Now and then a violent shuddering seized -her,--but otherwise she gave no sign of life. Hours passed;--she knew -nothing, she thought of nothing; she was stupefied with misery and a -great inextinguishable fear. To her bewildered, darkly superstitious, -more than pagan mind, it seemed as if some terrible avenging angel had -descended in the night and torn away her beautiful charge out of sheer -spite and jealousy lest she should awake to the joys of earth’s life -and love. It had always been her fixed idea that the chief and most -powerful ingredient of the Divine character (and of the human also) -was jealousy; and she considered therefore that all women, as soon as -they were born, should be solemnly dedicated to the ancient goddess -Anaïtis. Anaïtis was a useful and accommodating deity, who in the -old days, had unlimited power to make all things pure. A woman might -have fifty lovers, and yet none could dare accuse her of vileness if -she were a “daughter” or “priestess” of Anaïtis. She might have been -guilty of any amount of moral enormity, but she was held to be the -chastest of virgins if Anaïtis were her protectress and mistress. And -so, in the eyes of Zaroba, Anaïtis was the true patroness of -love,--she sanctified the joys of lovers and took away from them all -imputation of sin; and many and many a time had the poor, ignorant, -heathenish old woman secretly invoked the protection of this almost -forgotten pagan goddess for the holy maiden Lilith. And now--now she -wondered tremblingly, if in this she had done wrong? ... More than for -anything in the world had she longed that El-Râmi, the “wise man” who -scoffed at passion with a light contempt, should love with a lover’s -wild idolatry the beautiful creature who was so completely in his -power;--in her dull, half-savage, stupid way, she had thought that -such a result of the long six years’ “experiment” could but bring -happiness to both man and maid; and she spared no pains to try and -foster the spark of mere interest which El-Râmi had for his “subject” -into the flame of a lover’s ardour. For this cause she had brought -Féraz to look upon the tranced girl, in order that El-Râmi knowing -of it, might feel the subtle prick of that perpetual motor, -jealousy,--for this she had said all she dared say, concerning love -and its unconquerable nature;--and now, just when her long-cherished -wish seemed on the point of being granted, some dreadful Invisible -Power had rushed in between the two, and destroyed Lilith with the -fire of wrath and revenge;--at any rate that was how she regarded it. -The sleeping girl had grown dear to her,--it war impossible not to -love such a picture of innocent, entrancing, ideal beauty,--and she -felt as though her heart had been torn open and its very core wrenched -out by a cruel and hasty hand. She knew nothing as yet of the fate -that had overtaken El-Râmi himself,--for as she could not hear a -sound of the human voice, she had only dimly seen that he was led from -the room by his young brother, and that he looked ill, feeble, and -distraught. What she realised most positively and with the greatest -bitterness, was the fact of Lilith’s loss,--Lilith’s evident -destruction. This was undeniable,--this was irremediable;--and she -thought of it till her aged brain burned as with some inward consuming -fire, and her thin blood seemed turning to ice. - -“Who has done it?” she muttered--“Who has claimed her? It must be the -Christ,--the cold, quiet, pallid Christ, with His bleeding hands and -beckoning eyes! He is a new god,--He has called, and she, Lilith, has -obeyed! Without love, without life, without aught in the world save -the lily-garb of untouched holiness,--it is what the pale Christ -seeks, and He has found it here,--here, with the child who slept the -sleep of innocent ignorance--here where no thought of passion ever -entered unless _I_ breathed it,--or perchance he--El-Râmi--thought -it--unknowingly. O what a white flower for the Christ in Heaven, is -Lilith!--What a branch of bud and blossom! ... Ah, cruel, cold new -gods of the Earth!--how long shall their sorrowful reign endure! Who -will bring back the wise old gods,--the gods of the ancient days,--the -gods who loved and were not ashamed,--the gods of mirth and life and -health,--they would have left me Lilith,--they would have said--‘Lo, -how this woman is old and poor,--she hath lost all that she ever -had,--let us leave her the child she loves, albeit it is not her own -but ours;--we are great gods, but we are merciful!’ Oh, Lilith, -Lilith! child of the sun and air, and daughter of sleep! would I had -perished instead of thee!--Would I had passed away into darkness, and -thou been spared to the light!” - -Thus she wailed and moaned, her face hidden, her limbs quivering, and -she knew not how long she had stayed thus, though all the morning had -passed and the afternoon had begun. At last she was roused by the -gentle yet firm pressure of a hand on her shoulder, and, slowly -uncovering her drawn and anguished features she met the sorrowful eyes -of Féraz looking into hers. With a mute earnest gesture he bade her -rise. She obeyed, but so feebly and tremblingly, that he assisted her, -and led her to a chair, where she sat down, still quaking all over -with fear and utter wretchedness. Then he took a pencil and wrote on -the slate which his brother had been wont to use,-- - -“A great trouble has come upon us. God has been pleased to so darken -the mind of the beloved El-Râmi, that he knows us no longer, and is -ignorant of where he is. The wise man has been rendered simple,--and -the world seems to him as it seems to a child who has everything in -its life to learn. We must accept this ordinance as the Will of the -Supreme, and bring our own will in accordance with it, believing the -ultimate intention to be for the Highest Good. But for his former -life, El-Râmi exists no more,--the mind that guided his actions then -is gone.” - -Slowly, and with pained, aching eyes Zaroba read these words,--she -grasped their purport and meaning thoroughly, and yet, she said not a -word. She was not surprised,--she was scarcely affected;--her feelings -seemed blunted or paralysed. El-Râmi was mad? To her, he had always -seemed mad,--with a madness born of terrible knowledge and power. To -be mad now was nothing; the loss of Lilith was amply sufficient cause -for his loss of wit. Nothing could be worse in her mind than to have -loved Lilith and lost her,--what was the use of uttering fresh cries -and ejaculations of woe! It was all over,--everything was ended,--so -far as she, Zaroba, was concerned. So she sat speechless,--her grand -old face rigid as bronze, with an expression upon it of stern -submission, as of one who waits immovably for more onslaughts from the -thunderbolts of destiny. - -Féraz looked at her very compassionately, and wrote again-- - -“Good Zaroba, I know your grief. Rest--try to sleep. Do not see -El-Râmi to-day. It is better I should be alone with him. He is quite -peaceful and happy,--happier indeed than he has ever been. He has so -much to learn, he says, and he is quite satisfied. For to-day we must -be alone with our sorrows,--to-morrow we shall be able to see more -clearly what we must do.” - -Still Zaroba said nothing. Presently however she arose, and walked -totteringly to the side of Lilith’s couch, ... there with an -eloquently tragic gesture of supremest despair, she pointed to the -gray-white ashes that were spread in that dreadfully suggestive -outline on the satin coverlet and pillows. Féraz, shuddering, shut -his eyes for a moment;--then, as he opened them again, he saw, -confronting him, the uncurtained picture of the “Christ and His -Disciples.” He remembered it well,--El-Râmi had bought it long ago -from among the despoiled treasures of an old dismantled -monastery,--and besides being a picture it was also a reliquary. He -stepped hastily up to it and felt for the secret spring which used, he -knew, to be there. He found and pressed it,--the whole of the picture -flew back like a door on a hinge, and showed the interior to be a -Gothic-shaped casket, lined with gold, at the back of which was -inserted a small piece of wood, supposed to have been a fragment of -the “True Cross.” There was nothing else in the casket,--and Féraz -leaving it open, turned to Zaroba who had watched him with dull, -scarcely comprehending eyes. - -“Gather together these sacred ashes,”--he wrote again on the -slate,--“and place them in this golden recess,--it is a holy place fit -for such holy relics. El-Râmi would wish it, I know, if he could -understand or wish for anything,--and wherever we go, the picture will -go with us, for one day perhaps he will remember, ... and ask, ...” - -He could trust himself to write no more,--and stood sadly enrapt, and -struggling with his own emotion. - -“The Christ claims all!” muttered Zaroba wearily, resorting to her old -theme--“The crucified Christ, ... He must have all; the soul, the -body, the life, the love, the very ashes of the dead,--He must have -all ... all!” - -Féraz heard her,--and taking up his pencil once more, wrote swiftly-- - - “You are right,--Christ has claimed Lilith. She was His to claim,--for - on this earth we are all His,--He gave His very life to make us so. - Let us thank God that we _are_ thus claimed,--for with Christ all - things are well.” - -He turned away then immediately, and left her alone to her task,--a -task she performed with groans and trembling, till every vestige of -the delicate ashes, as fine as the dust of flowers, was safely and -reverently placed in its pure golden receptacle. Strange to say, one -very visible relic of the vanished Lilith’s bodily beauty had somehow -escaped destruction,--this was a long, bright waving tress of hair -which lay trembling on the glistening satin of the pillows like a lost -sunbeam. Over this lovely amber curl, old Zaroba stooped yearningly, -staring at it till her tears, the slow, bitter scalding tears of age, -fell upon it where it lay. She longed to take it for herself,--to wear -it against her own heart,--to kiss and cherish it as though it were a -living, sentient thing,--but, thinking of El-Râmi, her loyalty -prevailed, and she tenderly lifted the clinging, shining, soft silken -curl, and laid it by with the ashes in the antique shrine. All was now -done,--and she shut to the picture, which, when once closed, showed no -sign of any opening. - -Lilith was gone indeed;--there was now no perceptible evidence to show -that she had ever existed. And, to the grief-stricken Zaroba, the face -and figure of the Christ, as painted on the reliquary at which she -gazed, seemed to assume a sudden triumph and majesty which appalled -while it impressed her. She read the words “Whom Say Ye That I Am?” -and shuddered; this “new god” with His tranquil smile and sorrowful -dignity had more terrors for her than any of the old pagan deities. - -“I cannot! I cannot!” she whispered feebly; “I cannot take you to my -heart, cold Christ,--I cannot think it is good to wear the thorns of -perpetual sorrow! You offer no joy to the sad and weary world,--one -must sacrifice one’s dearest hopes,--one must bear the cross and weep -for the sins of all men, to be at all acceptable to You! I am old--but -I keep the memories of joy; I would not have all happiness reft out of -the poor lives of men. I would have them full of mirth,--I would have -them love where they list, drink pure wine, and rejoice in the breath -of Nature,--I would have them feast in the sunlight and dance in the -moonbeams, and crown themselves with the flowers of the woodland and -meadow, and grow ruddy and strong and manful and generous, and -free--free as the air! I would have their hearts bound high for the -pleasure of life;--not break in a search for things they can never -win. Ah no, cold Christ! I cannot love you!--at the touch of your -bleeding Hand the world freezes like a starving bird in a storm of -snow;--the hearts of men grow weak and weary, and of what avail is it, -O Prince of Grief, to live in sadness all one’s days for the hope of a -Heaven that comes not? O Lilith!--child of the sun, where art -thou?--Where? Never to have known the joys of love,--never to have -felt the real pulse of living,--never to have thrilled in a lover’s -embrace,--ah, Lilith, Lilith! Will Heaven compensate thee for such -loss? ... Never, never, never! No God, were He all the worlds’ gods in -One, can give aught but a desolate Eden to the loveless and lonely -soul!” - -In such wise as this, she muttered and moaned all day long, never -stirring from the room that was called Lilith’s. Now and then she -moved up and down with slow restlessness,--sometimes fixing eager eyes -upon the vacant couch, with the vague idea that perhaps Lilith might -come back to it as suddenly as she had fled; and sometimes pausing by -the vase of roses, and touching their still fragrant, but fast-fading -blossoms. Time went on, and she never thought of breaking her fast, or -going to see how her master, El-Râmi, fared. His mind was gone--she -understood that well enough,--and in a strange wild way of her own, -she connected this sudden darkening of his intellect with the equally -sudden disappearance of Lilith; and she dreaded to look upon his face. - -How the hours wore away she never knew; but by and by her limbs began -to ache heavily, and she crouched down upon the floor to rest. She -fell into a heavy stupor of unconsciousness,--and when she awoke at -last, the room was quite dark. She got up, stiff and cold and -terrified,--she groped about with her hands,--it seemed to her dazed -mind that she was in some sepulchral cave in the desert, all alone. -Her lips were dry,--her head swam,--and she tottered along, feeling -her way blindly, till she touched the velvet _portière_ that divided -the room from its little antechamber, and, dragging this aside in -nervous haste, she stumbled through, and out on to the landing, where -it was light. The staircase was before her,--the gas was lit in the -hall--and the house looked quite as usual,--yet she could not in the -least realise where she was. Indistinct images floated in her -brain,--there were strange noises in her ears,--and she only dimly -remembered El-Râmi, as though he were some one she had heard of long -ago, in a dream. Pausing on the stair-head, she tried to collect her -scattered senses,--but she felt sick and giddy, and her first instinct -was to seek the air. Clinging to the banisters, she tottered down the -stairs slowly, and reached the front-door, and, fumbling cautiously -with the handle a little while, succeeded in turning it, and letting -herself out into the street. The door had a self-acting spring, and -shut to instantly, and almost noiselessly, behind her,--but Féraz, -sitting in the study with his brother, fancied he heard a slight -sound, and came into the hall to see what it was. Finding everything -quiet, he concluded he was mistaken, and went back to his post beside -El-Râmi, who had been dozing nearly all day, only waking up now and -again to mildly accept the nourishment of soup and wine which Féraz -prepared and gave him to keep up his strength. He was perfectly -tranquil, and talked at times quite coherently of simple things, such -as the flowers on the table, the lamp, the books, and other ordinary -trifles. He only seemed a little troubled by his own physical -weakness,--but when Féraz assured him he would soon be strong, he -smiled, and with every appearance of content, dozed off again -peacefully. In the evening, however, he grew a little restless,--and -then Féraz tried what effect music would have upon him. Going to the -piano, he played soft and dreamy melodies, ... but as he did so, a -strange sense of loss stole over him,--he had the mechanism of the -art, but the marvellously delicate attunement of his imagination had -fled! Tears rose in his eyes,--he knew what was missing,--the -guiding-prop of his brother’s wondrous influence had fallen,--and with -a faint terror he realised that much of his poetic faculty would -perish also. He had to remember that he was not _naturally_ born a -poet or musician,--poesy and music had been El-Râmi’s fairy gifts to -him--the exquisitely happy poise of his mind had been due to his -brother’s daily influence and control. He would still retain the habit -and the memory of art, but what had been Genius, would now be simple -Talent,--no more,--yet what a difference between the two! Nevertheless -his touch on the familiar ivory keys was very tender and delicate, and -when, distrusting his own powers of composition, he played one of the -softest and quaintest of Grieg’s Norwegian folk-songs, he was more -than comforted by the expression of pleasure that illumined El-Râmi’s -features, and by the look of enraptured peace that softened the -piteous dark eyes. - -“It is quite beautiful,--that music!” he murmured--“It is the pretty -sound the daisies make in growing.” - -And he leaned back in his chair and composed himself to rest,--while -Féraz played on softly, thinking anxiously the while. True, most -true, that for him dreams had ended, and life had begun! What was he -to do? ... how was he to meet the daily needs of living,--how was he -to keep himself and his brother? His idea was to go at once to the -monastery in Cyprus, where he had formerly been a visitor,--it was -quiet and peaceful,--he would ask the brethren to take them in,--for -he himself detested the thought of a life in the world,--it was -repellent to him in every way,--and El-Râmi’s affliction would -necessitate solitude. And while he was thus puzzling himself as to the -future, there came a sharp knock at the door,--he hastened to see who -it was,--and a messenger handed him a telegram addressed to himself. -It came from the very place he was thinking about, sent by the Head of -the Order, and ran thus-- - - “We know all. It is the Will of God. Bring El-Râmi here,--our house - is open to you both.” - -He uttered a low exclamation of thankfulness, the while he wondered -amazedly how it was that they, that far-removed Brotherhood, “knew -all”! It was very strange! He thought of the wondrous man whom he -called the “Master,” and who was understood to be “wise with the -wisdom of the angels,” and remembered that he was accredited with -being able to acquire information when he chose, by swift and -supernatural means. That he had done so in the present case seemed -evident, and Féraz stood still with the telegram in his hand, -stricken by a vague sense of awe as well as gratitude, thinking also -of the glittering vision he had had of that “glory of the angels in -the south”;--angels who were waiting for Lilith the night she -disappeared. - -El-Râmi suddenly opened his weary eyes and looked at him. - -“What is it?” he asked faintly--“Why has the music ceased?” - -Féraz went up to his chair and knelt down beside it. - -“You shall hear it again”--he said gently, “But you must sleep now, -and get strong,--because we are soon going away on a journey--a far, -beautiful journey----” - -“To Heaven?” inquired El-Râmi--“Yes, I know--it is very far.” - -Féraz sighed. - -“No--not to Heaven,”--he answered--“Not yet. We shall find out the way -there, afterwards. But in the meantime, we are going to a place where -there are fruits and flowers,--and where the sun is very bright and -warm. You will come with me, will you not, El-Râmi?--there are -friends there who will be glad to see you.” - -“I have no friends,”--said El-Râmi plaintively, “unless you are one. -I do not know if you are,--I hope so, but I am not sure. You have an -angel’s face,--and the angels have not always been kind to me. But I -will go with you wherever you wish,--is it a place in this world, or -in some other star?” - -“In this world,”--replied Féraz--“A quiet little corner of this -world.” - -“Ah!” and El-Râmi sighed profoundly--“I wish it had been in another. -There are so many millions and millions of worlds;--it seems foolish -waste of time to stay too long in this.” - -He closed his eyes again, and Féraz let him rest,--till, when the -hour grew late, he persuaded him to lie down on his own bed, which he -did with the amiable docility of a child. Féraz himself, half -sitting, half reclining in a chair beside him, watched him all night -long, like a faithful dog guarding its master,--and so full was he of -anxious thought and tender care for his brother, that he scarcely -remembered Zaroba, and when he did, he felt sure that she too was -resting, and striving to forget in sleep the sorrows of the day. - - - - - XLI. - -Zaroba had indeed forgotten her sorrows; but not in slumber, as -Féraz hoped and imagined. Little did he think that she was no longer -under the roof that had sheltered her for so many years; little could -he guess that she was out wandering all alone in the labyrinth of the -London streets,--a labyrinth of which she was almost totally ignorant, -having hardly ever been out of doors since El-Râmi had brought her -from the East. True, she had occasionally walked in the little square -opposite the house, and in a few of the streets adjoining,--once or -twice in Sloane Street itself, but no farther, for the sight of the -hurrying, pushing, busy throngs of men and women confused her. She had -not realised what she was doing when she let herself out that -night,--only when the street-door shut noiselessly upon her she was -vaguely startled,--and a sudden sense of great loneliness oppressed -her. Yet the fresh air blowing against her face was sweet and -balmy,--it helped to relieve the sickness at her heart, the dizziness -in her brain,--and she began to stroll along, neither knowing nor -caring whither she was going,--chiefly impelled by the strong -necessity she felt for movement,--space,--liberty. It had seemed to -her that she was being suffocated and buried alive in the darkness and -desolation that had fallen on the chamber of Lilith;--here, out in the -open, she was free,--she could breathe more easily. And so she went -on, almost unseeingly--the people she met looked to her like the -merest shadows. Her quaint garb attracted occasional attention from -some of the passers-by,--but her dark fierce face and glittering eyes -repelled all those who might have been inquisitive enough to stop and -question her. She drifted errantly, yet safely, through the jostling -crowds like a withered leaf on the edge of a storm,--her mind was -dazed with grief and fear and long fasting, but now and then as she -went, she smiled and seemed happy. Affliction had sunk so deep within -her, that it had reached the very core and centre of imagination and -touched it to vague issues of discordant joy;--wherefore, persuaded by -the magic music of delusion, she believed herself to be at home again -in her native Egypt. She fancied she was walking in the desert;--the -pavement seemed hot to her feet and she took it for the burning -sand,--and when after long and apparently interminable wanderings, she -found herself opposite Nelson’s column in Trafalgar Square, she stared -at the four great lions with stupefied dismay. - -“It is the gate of a city,”--she muttered--“and at this hour the -watchmen are asleep. I will go on--on still farther,--there must be -water close by, else there would be no city built.” - -She had recovered a certain amount of physical strength in the -restorative influence of the fresh air, and walked with a less feeble -tread,--she became dimly conscious too of there being a number of -people about, and she drew her amber-coloured draperies more closely -over her head. It was a beautiful night;--the moon was full and -brilliant, and hundreds of pleasure-seekers were moving hither and -thither,--there was the usual rattle and roar of the vehicular traffic -of the town which, it must be remembered, Zaroba did not hear. Neither -did she clearly see anything that was taking place around her,--for -her sight was blurred, and the dull confusion in her brain continued. -She walked as in a dream,--she felt herself to be in a dream;--the -images of El-Râmi, of the lost Lilith, of the beautiful young Féraz, -had faded away from her recollection,--and she was living in the early -memories of days long past,--days of youth and hope and love and -promise. No one molested her; people in London are so accustomed to -the sight of foreigners and foreign costumes, that so long as they are -seen walking on their apparent way peaceably, they may do so in any -garb that pleases them, provided it be decent, without attracting much -attention save from a few small and irreverent street-arabs. And even -the personal and pointed observations of these misguided youngsters -fail to disturb the dignity of a Parsee in his fez, or to ruffle the -celestial composure of a Chinaman in his slippers. Zaroba, moreover, -did not present such a markedly distinctive appearance,--in her yellow -wrapper and silver bangles, she only looked like one of the _ayahs_ -brought over from the East with the children of Anglo-Indian -mothers,--and she passed on uninterruptedly, happily deaf to the -noises around her, and almost blind to the ever-shifting human -pageantry of the busy thoroughfares. - -“The gates of the city,” she went on murmuring--“they are shut, and -the watchmen are asleep. There must be water near,--a river or a place -of fountains, where the caravans pause to rest.” - -Now and then the glare of the lights in the streets troubled her,--and -then she would come to a halt and pass her hands across her eyes,--but -this hesitation only lasted a minute,--and again she continued on her -aimless way. The road widened out before her,--the buildings grew -taller, statelier, and more imposing,--and suddenly she caught sight -of what she had longed for,--the glimmering of water silvering itself -in the light of the moon. - -She had reached the Embankment;--and a sigh of satisfaction escaped -her, as she felt the damp chillness of the wind from the river blowing -against her burning forehead. The fresh coolness and silence soothed -her,--there were few people about,--and she slackened her pace -unconsciously, and smiled as she lifted her dark face to the clear and -quiet sky. She was faint and weary,--light-headed from want of -food,--but she was not conscious of this any more than a fever-patient -is conscious of his own delirium. She walked quite steadily now,--in -no haste, but with the grave, majestic step that belongs peculiarly to -women of her type and race,--her features were perfectly composed, and -her eyes very bright. And now she looked always at the river, and saw -nothing else for a time but its rippling surface lit up by the moon. - -“They have cut down the reeds”--she said, softly under her -breath,--“and the tall palms are gone,--but the river is always the -same,--they cannot change that. Nothing can dethrone the Nile-god, or -disturb his sleep among the lilies, down towards the path of the -sunset. Here I shall meet my belovëd again,--here by the banks of the -Nile;--yet, it is strange and cruel that they should have cut down the -reeds. I remember how softly they rustled with the movements of the -little snakes that lived in the golden sand,--yes!--and the palm-trees -were high--so high that their feathery crowns seemed to touch the -stars. It was Egypt then,--and is it not Egypt now? -Yes--surely--surely it is Egypt!--but it is changed--changed,--all is -changed except love! Love is the same for ever, and the heart beats -true to the one sweet tune. Yes, we shall meet,--my belovëd and -I,--and we shall tell one another how long the time has seemed since -we parted yesterday. Only yesterday!--and it seems a century,--a long -long century of pain and fear, but the hours have passed, and the -waiting is over----” - -She broke off abruptly, and stood suddenly still;--the Obelisk faced -her. Cut sharp and dark against the brilliant sky the huge -“Cleopatra’s Needle” towered solemnly aloft, its apex seeming to point -directly at a cluster of stars above it. Something there was in its -weird and frowning aspect, that appealed strangely to Zaroba’s -wandering intelligence,--she gazed at it with eager, dilated eyes. - -“To the memory of heroes!” she said whisperingly, with a slight proud -gesture of her hand,--“To the glory of the Dead! Salutation to the -great gods and crowned Kings! Salutation and witness to the world of -what Hath Been! The river shall find a tongue--the shifting sands -shall uphold the record, so that none shall forget the things that -Were! For the things that Are, being weak, shall perish,--but the -things that Were, being strong, shall endure for ever! Here, as God -liveth, is the meeting-place; the palms are gone, but the Nile flows -on, and the moon is the sunlight of lovers. Here will I wait for my -belovëd,--he knows the appointed hour, ... he will not be long!” - -She sat down, as close to the Obelisk as she could get, her face -turned towards the river and the moonlight; and the clocks of the -great city around her slowly tolled eleven. Her head dropped forward -on her chest,--though after a few minutes she lifted her face with an -anxious look--and,--“Did the child call me?” she said, and listened. -Then she relapsed into her former sunken posture, ... once a strong -shuddering shook her limbs as of intense cold in the warm June night, -... and then she was quite still ... - -The hours passed on,--midnight came and went,--but she never stirred. -She seemed to belong to the Obelisk and its attendant sphinxes,--so -rigid was her figure, so weird in its outline, so solemn in its -absolute immobility. ... And in that same attitude she was found later -on towards morning, stone dead. There was no clue to her -identity,--nothing about her that gave any hint as to her possible -home or friends; her statuesque old face, grander than ever in the -serene pallor of death, somewhat awed the two burly policemen who -lifted her stark body and turned her features to the uncertain light -of early dawn, but it told them no history save that of age and -sorrow. So, in the sad chronicles entitled “Found Dead,” she was -described as “a woman unknown, of foreign appearance and costume, -seemingly of Eastern origin,”--and, after a day or two, being -unrecognised and unclaimed, she was buried in the usual way common to -all who perish without name and kindred in the dreary wilderness of a -great city. Féraz, missing her on the morning after her -disappearance, searched for her everywhere as well as he knew -how,--but, as he seldom read the newspapers, and probably would not -have recognised the brief account of her there if he had,--and as, -moreover, he knew nothing about certain dreary buildings in London -called mortuaries, where the bodies of the drowned, and murdered, and -unidentified, lie for a little while awaiting recognition, he remained -in complete and bewildered ignorance of her fate. He could not imagine -what had become of her, and he almost began to believe that she must -have taken ship back to her native land,--and that perhaps he might -hear of her again some day. And truly, she had gone back to her native -land,--in fancy;--and truly, it was also possible she might be met -with again some day,--in another world than this. But in the meantime -she had died,--as best befitted a servant of the old gods,--alone, and -in uncomplaining silence. - - - - - XLII. - -The hair’s-breadth balance of a Thought,--the wrong or right control -of Will;--on these things hang the world, life, time, and all -Eternity. Such slight threads!--imperceptible, ungraspable,--and yet -withal strong,--strong enough to weave the everlasting web of good or -evil, joy or woe. On some such poise, as fine, as subtly delicate, the -whole majestic Universe swings round in its appointed course,--never a -pin’s point awry, never halting in its work, never hesitating in the -fulfilment of its laws, carrying out the Divine command with faithful -exactitude and punctuality. It is strange,--mournfully strange,--that -we never seem able to learn the grand lessons that are taught us by -this unvarying routine of natural forces,--Submission, Obedience, -Patience, Resignation, Hope. Preachers preach the doctrine,--teachers -teach it,--Nature silently and gloriously manifests it hourly; but -we,--we continue to shut our ears and eyes,--we prefer to retreat -within ourselves,--our little incomplete ignorant selves,--thinking we -shall be able to discover some way out of what has no egress, by the -cunning arguments of our own finite intellectual faculties. We fail -always;--we must fail. We are bound to find out sooner or later that -we must bend our stubborn knees in the presence of the Positive -Eternal. But till the poor brain gives way under the prolonged -pressure and strain of close inquiry and analysis, so long will it -persist in attempting to probe the Impenetrable,--so long will it -audaciously attempt to lift the veil that hides the Beyond instead of -resting content with what Nature teaches. “Wait”--she says--“Wait till -you are mentally able to understand the Explanation. Wait till the -Voice which is as a silver clarion, proclaims all truth, saying -‘Awake, Soul, for thy dream is past! Look now and see,--for thou art -strong enough to bear the Light.’” - -Alas! we will not wait,--hence our life in these latter days of -analysis is a mere querulous complaint, instead of what it should be, -a perpetual thanksgiving. - -Four seasons have passed away since the “Soul of Lilith” was caught up -into its native glory,--four seasons,--summer, autumn, winter and -spring--and now it is summer again,--summer in the Isle of Cyprus, -that once most sacred spot, dear to historic and poetic lore. Up among -the low olive-crowned hills of Baffo or Paphos, there is more shade -and coolness than in other parts of the island, and the retreat -believed to have been the favourite haunt of Venus is still full of -something like the mystical glamour that hallowed it of old. As the -singer of “Love-Letters of a Violinist” writes: - - “There is a glamour all about the bay - As if the nymphs of Greece had tarried here. - The sands are golden and the rocks appear - Crested with silver; and the breezes play - Snatches of song they hummed when far away, - And then are hush’d as if from sudden fear.” - -Flowers bloom luxuriantly, as though the white, blue-veined feet of -the goddess had but lately passed by,--there is a suggestive harmony -in the subdued low whispering of the trees, accompanied by the gentle -murmur of the waves, and “Hieros Kiphos,” or the Sacred Grove, still -bends its thick old boughs caressingly towards the greensward as -though to remind the dreaming earth of the bygone glories here buried -deep in its silent bosom. The poor fragment of the ruined “Temple of -Venus” once gorgeous with the gold and precious stones, silks and -embroideries, and other offerings brought from luxury-loving Tyre, -stands in its desolation among the quiet woods, and no sound of -rejoicing comes forth from its broken wall to stir the heated air. Yet -there is music not far off,--the sweet and solemn music of an organ -chant, accompanying a chorus of mild and mellow voices singing the -“Agnus Dei.” Here in this part of the country, the native inhabitants -are divided in their notions of religious worship,--they talk Greek, -albeit modern Greek, with impurities which were unknown to the -sonorous ancient tongue, and they are heroes no more, as the heroic -Byron has told us in his superb poesy, but simply slaves. They but -dimly comprehend Christianity,--the joyous paganism of the past is not -yet extinct, and the Virgin Mother of Christ is here adored as -“Aphroditissa.” Perhaps in dirty Famagousta they may be more -orthodox,--but among these sea-fronting hills where the sound of the -“Agnus Dei” solemnly rises and falls in soft surges of harmony, it is -still the old home of the Queen of Beauty, and still the birthplace of -Adonis, son of a Cyprian King. Commercial England is now the possessor -of this bower of sweet fancies,--this little corner of the world -haunted by a thousand poetic memories,--and in these prosy days but -few pilgrimages are made to a shrine that was once the glory of a -glorious age. To the native Cypriotes themselves the gods have simply -changed their names and become a little sadder and less playful, that -is all,--and to make up for the lost “Temple of Venus” there is, -hidden deep among the foliage, a small monastic retreat with a Cross -on its long low roof,--a place where a few poor monks work and -pray,--good men whose virtues are chiefly known to the sick, destitute -and needy. They call themselves simply “The Brotherhood,” and there -are only ten of them in all, including the youngest, who joined their -confraternity quite recently. They are very poor,--they wear rough -white garments and go barefooted, and their food is of the simplest; -but they do a vast amount of good in their unassuming way, and when -any of their neighbours are in trouble, such afflicted ones at once -climb the little eminence where Venus was worshipped with such pomp in -ancient days, and make direct for the plain unadorned habitation -devoted to the service of One who was “a Man of Sorrows and acquainted -with grief.” There they never fail to find consolation and practical -aid,--even their persistent prayers to “Aphroditissa” are condoned -with a broad and tender patience by these men who honestly strive to -broaden and not confine the road that leads to heaven. Thus Paphos is -sacred still,--with the glamour of old creeds and the wider glory of -the new,--yet though it is an interesting enough nook of the earth, it -is seldom that travellers elect to go thither either to admire or -explore. Therefore the sight of a travelling-carriage, a tumble-down -sort of vehicle, yet one of the best to be obtained thereabouts, -making its way slowly up the ascent, with people in modern fashionable -dress sitting therein, was a rare and wonderful spectacle to the -ragged Cypriote youth of both sexes, who either stood by the roadway, -pushing their tangled locks from their dark eyes and staring at it, or -else ran swiftly alongside its wheels to beg for coppers from its -occupants. There were four of these,--two ladies and two -gentlemen,--Sir Frederick Vaughan and Lady Vaughan (_née_ Idina -Chester); the fair and famous authoress, Irene Vassilius, and a -distinguished-looking handsome man of about forty or thereabouts, the -Duke of Strathlea, a friend of the Vaughans, who had entertained them -royally during the previous autumn at his grand old historic house in -Scotland. By a mere chance during the season, he had made the -acquaintance of Madame Vassilius, with whom he had fallen suddenly, -deeply and ardently in love. She, however, was the same unresponsive -far-gazing dreamy sibyl as ever, and though not entirely indifferent -to the gentle reverential homage paid to her by this chivalrous and -honourable gentleman, she could not make up her mind to give him any -decided encouragement. He appeared to make no progress with her -whatever,--and of course his discouragement increased his ardour. He -devised every sort of plan he could think of for obtaining as much of -her society as possible,--and finally, he had entreated the Vaughans -to persuade her to join them in a trip to the Mediterranean in his -yacht. At first she had refused,--then, with a sudden change of -humour, she had consented to go, provided the Island of Cyprus were -one of the places to be visited. Strathlea eagerly caught at and -agreed to this suggestion,--the journey had been undertaken, and had -so far proved most enjoyable. Now they had reached the spot Irene most -wished to see,--it was to please her that they were making the present -excursion to the “Temple of Venus,” or rather, to the small and -obscure monastery among the hills which she had expressed a strong -desire to visit,--and Strathlea, looking wistfully at her fair -thoughtful face, wondered whether after all these pleasant days passed -together between sparkling sea and radiant sky, she had any kinder -thoughts of him,--whether she would always be so quiet, so impassive, -so indifferent to the love of a true man’s heart? - -The carriage went slowly,--the view widened with every upward yard of -the way,--and they were all silent, gazing at the glittering expanse -of blue ocean below them. - -“How very warm it is!” said Lady Vaughan at last breaking the dumb -spell, and twirling her sunshade round and round to disperse a cloud -of gnats and small flies--“Fred, you look absolutely broiled! You are -so dreadfully sunburnt!” - -“Am I?” and Sir Frederick smiled blandly,--he was as much in love with -his pretty frivolous wife as it is becoming for a man to be, and all -her remarks were received by him with the utmost docility--“Well, I -daresay I am. Yachting doesn’t improve the transparent delicacy of a -man’s complexion. Strathlea is too dark to show it much,--but I was -always a florid sort of fellow. You’ve no lack of colour yourself, -Idina.” - -“Oh, I’m sure I look a fright!” responded her ladyship vivaciously and -with a slight touch of petulance--“Irene is the only one who appears -to keep cool. I believe her aspect would be positively frosty with the -thermometer marking 100 in the shade!” - -Irene, who was gazing abstractedly out to sea, turned slowly and -lifted her drooping lace parasol slightly higher from her face. She -was pale,--and her deep-set gray eyes were liquid as though unshed -tears filled them. - -“Did you speak to me, dear?” she inquired gently. “Have I done -something to vex you?” - -Lady Vaughan laughed. - -“No, of course you haven’t. The idea of your vexing anybody! You look -irritatingly cool in this tremendous heat,--that’s all.” - -“I love the sun,”--said Irene dreamily--“To me it is always the -visible sign of God in the world. In London we have so little -sunshine,--and, one might add, so little of God also! I was just then -watching that golden blaze of light upon the sea.” - -Strathlea looked at her interrogatively. - -“And what does it suggest to you, Madame?” he asked--“The glory of a -great fame, or the splendour of a great love?” - -“Neither”--she replied tranquilly--“Simply the reflex of Heaven on -Earth.” - -“Love might be designated thus,” said Strathlea in a low tone. - -She coloured a little, but offered no response. - -“It was odd that you alone should have been told the news of poor -El-Râmi’s misfortune,” said Sir Frederick, abruptly addressing -her,--“None of us, not even my cousin Melthorpe, who knew him before -you did, had the least idea of it.” - -“His brother wrote to me”--replied Irene; “Féraz, that beautiful -youth who accompanied him to Lady Melthorpe’s reception last year. But -he gave me no details,--he simply explained that El-Râmi, through -prolonged overstudy, had lost the balance of his mind. The letter was -very short, and in it he stated he was about to enter a religious -fraternity who had their abode near Baffo in Cyprus, and that the -brethren had consented to receive his brother also and take charge of -him in his great helplessness.” - -“And their place is what we are going to see now”--finished Lady -Vaughan--“I daresay it will be immensely interesting. Poor El-Râmi! -Who would ever have thought it possible for him to lose his wits! I -shall never forget the first time I saw him at the theatre. _Hamlet_ -was being played, and he entered in the very middle of the speech ‘To -be or not to be.’ I remember how he looked, perfectly. What eyes he -had!--they positively scared me!” - -Her husband glanced at her admiringly. - -“Do you know, Idina”--he said, “that El-Râmi told me on that very -night--the night of _Hamlet_ that I was destined to marry you?” - -She lifted her eyelids in surprise. - -“No! Really! And did you feel yourself compelled to carry out the -prophecy?”--and she laughed. - -“No, I did not feel myself compelled,--but somehow, it -happened--didn’t it?” he inquired with naïve persistency. - -“Of course it did! How absurd you are!” and she laughed again--“Are -you sorry?” - -He gave her an expressive look,--he was really very much in love, and -she was still a new enough bride to blush at his amorous regard. -Strathlea moved impatiently in his seat;--the assured happiness of -others made him envious. - -“I suppose this prophet,--El-Râmi, as you call him, prophesies no -longer, if his wits are lacking”--he said--“otherwise I should have -asked him to prophesy something good for me.” - -No one answered. Lady Vaughan stole a meaning glance and smile at -Irene, but there was no touch of embarrassment or flush of colour on -that fair, serene, rather plaintive face. - -“He always went into things with such terrible closeness, did -El-Râmi,--” said Sir Frederick after a pause--“No wonder his brain -gave way at last. You know you can’t keep on asking the why, why, why -of everything without getting shut up in the long run.” - -“I think we were not meant to ask ‘why’ at all,” said Irene -slowly--“We are made to accept and believe that everything is for the -best.” - -“There is a story extant in France of a certain philosopher who was -always asking why--” said Strathlea--“He was a taciturn man as a rule, -and seldom opened his lips except to say ‘Pourquoi?’ When his wife -died suddenly, he manifested no useless regrets--he merely said -‘Pourquoi?’ One day they told him his house in the country was burned -to the ground,--he shrugged his shoulders and said ‘Pourquoi?’ After a -bit he lost all his fortune,--his furniture was sold up,--he stared at -the bailiffs and said ‘Pourquoi?’ Later on he was suspected of being -in a plot to assassinate the King,--men came and seized his papers and -took him away to prison,--he made no resistance,--he only said -‘Pourquoi?’ He was tried, found guilty and condemned to death; the -judge asked him if he had anything to say? He replied at once -‘Pourquoi?’ No answer was vouchsafed to him, and in due time he was -taken to the scaffold. There the executioner bandaged his eyes,--he -said ‘Pourquoi?’--he was told to kneel down; he did so, but again -demanded ‘Pourquoi?’--the knife fell, and his head was severed from -his body--yet before it rolled into the basket, it trembled on the -block, its eyes opened, its lips moved, and for the last time uttered -that final, never-to-be answered query ‘Pourquoi?’!” - -They all laughed at this story, and just then the carriage stopped. -The driver got down and explained in very bad French that he could go -no farther,--that the road had terminated, and that there was now only -a footpath which led through the trees to the little monastic retreat -whither they were bound. They alighted, therefore, and found -themselves close to the ruin supposed to have once been the “Temple of -Venus.” They paused for a moment, looking at the scene in silence. - -“There must have been a great joyousness in the old creeds,” said -Strathlea softly, with an admiring glance at Irene’s slight, slim, -almost fairy-like figure clad in its close-fitting garb of silky -white--“At the shrine of Venus for example, one could declare one’s -love without fear or shame.” - -“That can be done still,” observed Sir Frederick laughingly, “And is -done, pretty often. People haven’t left off making love because the -faith in Venus is exploded. I expect they’ll go on in the same old -abandoned way to the end of the chapter.” - -And, throwing his arm round his wife’s waist, he sauntered on with her -towards the thicket of trees at the end of which their driver had told -them the “refuge” was situated, leaving Strathlea and Madame Vassilius -to follow. Strathlea perceived and was grateful for the opportunity -thus given, and ventured to approach Irene a little more closely. She -was still gazing out to the sea, her soft eyes were dreamy and -abstracted,--her small ungloved right hand hung down at her -side,--after a moment’s hesitation, he boldly lifted it and touched -its delicate whiteness with a kiss. She started nervously--she had -been away in the land of dreams,--and now she met his gaze with a -certain vague reproach in the sweet expression of her face. - -“I cannot help it--” said Strathlea quickly, and in a low eager -tone--“I cannot, Irene! You know I love you,--you have seen it, and -you have discouraged and repelled me in every possible way,--but I am -not made of stone or marble--I am mere flesh and blood, and I must -speak. I love you, Irene! I love you--I will not unsay it. I want you -to be my wife. Will you, Irene? Do not be in a hurry to answer -me--think long enough to allow some pity for me to mingle with your -thoughts. Just imagine a little hand like this”--and he kissed it -again--“holding the pen with such a masterful grip and inditing to the -world the thoughts and words that live in the minds of thousands,--is -it such a cold hand that it is impervious to love’s caress? I -cannot--I will not believe it. You cannot be obdurate for ever. What -is there in love that it should repel you?” - -She smiled gravely; and gently, very gently, withdrew her hand. - -“It is not love that repels me--” she said, “It is what is _called_ -love, in this world,--a selfish sentiment that is not love at all. I -assure you I am not insensible to your affection for me, my dear Duke, -... I wish for your sake I were differently constituted.” - -She paused a moment, then added hastily, “See, the others are out of -sight--do let us overtake them.” - -She moved away quickly with that soft gliding tread of hers which -reminded one of a poet’s sylph walking on a moonbeam, and he paced -beside her, half mortified, yet not altogether without hope. - -“Why are you so anxious to see this man who has lost his wits,--this -El-Râmi Zarânos?” he asked, with a touch of jealousy in his -accents--“Was he more to you than most people?” - -She raised her eyes with an expression of grave remonstrance. - -“Your thoughts wrong me--” she said simply--“I never saw El-Râmi but -twice in my life,--I only pitied him greatly. I used to have a strong -instinct upon me that all would not be well with him in the end.” - -“Why?” - -“First, because he had no faith,--secondly, because he had an excess -of pride. He dismissed God out of his calculations altogether, and was -perfectly content to rely on the onward march of his own intellect. -Intellectual Egoism is always doomed to destruction,--this seems to be -a Law of the Universe. Indeed, Egoism, whether sensual or -intellectual, is always a defiance of God.” - -Strathlea walked along in silence for a minute, then he said abruptly: - -“It is odd to hear you speak like this, as if you were a religious -woman. You are not religious,--every one says so,--you are a -free-thinker,--and also, pardon me for repeating it, society supposes -you to be full of this sin you condemn--Intellectual Egoism.” - -“Society may suppose what it pleases of me”--said Irene, “I was never -its favourite, and never shall be, nor do I court its good opinion. -Yes, I am a free-thinker, and freely think without narrow law or -boundary, of the majesty, beauty and surpassing goodness of God. As -for intellectual egoism,--I hope I am not in any respect guilty of it. -To be proud of what one does, or what one knows, has always seemed to -me the poorest sort of vanity,--and it is the stumbling block over -which a great many workers in the literary profession fall, never to -rise again. But you are quite right in saying I am not a ‘religious’ -woman; I never go to church and I never patronise bazaars.” - -The sparkle of mirth in her eyes was infectious, and he laughed. But -suddenly she stopped, and laid her hand on his arm. - -“Listen,” she said, with a slight tremor in her voice--“You love me, -you say ... and I--I am not altogether indifferent to you--I confess -that much. Wait!” for in an excess of delight he had caught both her -hands in his own, and she loosened them gently--“Wait--you do not know -me, my dear friend. You do not understand my nature at all,--I -sometimes think myself it is not what is understood as ‘feminine.’ I -am an abnormal creature--and perhaps if you knew me better you would -not like me ...” - -“I adore you!” said Strathlea impetuously, “and I shall always adore -you!” - -She smiled rather sadly. - -“You think so now,”--she said--“but you cannot be sure,--no man can -always be sure of himself. You spoke of society and its opinion of -me;--now, as a rule, average people do not like me,--they are vaguely -afraid of me,--and they think it is strange and almost dangerous for a -‘writing woman’ to be still young, and not entirely hideous. Literary -women generally are so safely and harmlessly repellent in look and -bearing. Then again, as you said, I am not a religious woman,--no, not -at all so in the accepted sense of the term. But with all my heart and -soul I believe in God, and the ultimate good of everything. I abhor -those who would narrow our vision of heavenly things by dogma or -rule--I resent all ideas of the Creator that seem to lessen His glory -by one iota. I may truly say I live in an ecstasy of faith, accepting -life as a wondrous miracle, and death as a crowning joy. I pray but -seldom, as I have nothing to ask for, being given far more than I -deserve,--and I complain of nothing save the blind, cruel injustice -and misjudgment shown by one human unit to another. This is not God’s -doing, but Man’s--and it will, it must, bring down full punishment in -due season.” - -She paused a moment,--Strathlea was looking at her admiringly, and she -coloured suddenly at his gaze. - -“Besides”--she added with an abrupt change of tone, from enthusiasm to -coldness, “you must not, my dear Duke, think that I feel myself in any -way distinguished or honoured by your proposal to make me your wife. I -do not. This sounds very brusque, I know, but I think as a general -rule in marriage, a woman gives a great deal more than she ever -receives. I am aware how very much your position and fortune might -appeal to many of my sex,--but I need scarcely tell you they have no -influence upon me. For, notwithstanding an entire lack of log-rollers -and press ‘booms’”--and she smiled--“my books bring me in large sums, -sufficient and more than sufficient for all my worldly needs. And I am -not ambitious to be a duchess.” - -“You are cruel, Irene”--said Strathlea--“Should I ever attaint you -with worldly motives? I never wanted to be a duke--I was born so,--and -a horrid bore it is! If I were a poor man, could you fancy me?” - -He looked at her,--and her eyes fell under his ardent gaze. He saw his -advantage, and profited by it. - -“You do not positively hate me?” he asked. - -She gave him one fleeting glance through her long lashes, and a faint -smile rested on her mouth. - -“How could I?” she murmured--“you are my friend.” - -“Well, will you try to like me a little more than a friend?”--he -continued eagerly--“Will you say to yourself now and then--‘He is a -big, bluff, clumsy Englishman, with more faults than virtues, more -money than brains, and a stupid title sticking upon him like a bow of -ribbon on a boar’s head, but he is very fond of me, and would give up -everything in the world for me’--will you say that to yourself, and -think as well as you can of me?--will you, Irene?” - -She raised her head. All coldness and hauteur had left her face, and -her eyes were very soft and tender. - -“My dear friend, I cannot hear you do yourself wrong”--she said--“and -I am not as unjust as you perhaps imagine. I know your worth. You have -more virtues than faults, more brains than money,--you are generous -and kindly, and in this instance, your title sets off the grace of a -true and gallant gentleman. Give me time to consider a little,--let us -join the Vaughans,--I promise you I will give you your answer to-day.” - -A light flashed over his features, and stooping, he once more kissed -her hand. Then, as she moved on, a gracefully gliding figure under the -dark arching boughs, he followed with a firm joyous step such as might -have befitted a knight of the court of King Arthur who had, after hard -fighting, at last won some distinct pledge of his “ladye’s” future -favour. - - - - - XLIII. - -Deeply embowered among arching boughs and covered with the luxuriant -foliage of many a climbing and flowering vine, the little monastic -refuge appeared at first sight more like the retreat of a poet or -painter than a religious house where holy ascetics fasted and prayed -and followed the difficult discipline of daily self-denial. When the -little party of visitors reached its quaint low door they all paused -before ringing the bell that hung visibly aloft among clustering -clematis, and looked about them in admiration. - -“What a delicious place!” said Lady Vaughan, bending to scent the -odours of a rich musk rose that had pushed its lovely head through the -leaves as though inviting attention--“How peaceful! ... and listen! -What grand music they are singing!” - -She held up her finger,--the others obeyed the gesture, and hushed -their steps to hear every note of the stately harmony that pealed out -upon the air. The brethren were chanting part of the grand Greek “Hymn -of Cleanthes,” a translation of which may be roughly rendered in the -following strophes: - - “Many-named and most glorious of the Immortals, Almighty for ever, - Ruler of Nature whose government is order and law, - Hail, all hail! for good it is that mortals should praise thee! - - “We are Thy offspring; we are the Image of Thy Voice, - And only the Image, as all mortal things are that live and move by - Thy power, - Therefore do we exalt Thy Name and sing of Thy glory forever! - - “Thee doth the splendid Universe obey - Moving whithersoever Thou leadest, - And all are gladly swayed by Thee. - - “Naught is done in the earth without thee, O God-- - Nor in the divine sphere of the heavens, nor in the deepest depths of - the sea, - Save the works that evil men commit in their hours of folly. - - “Yet thou knowest where to find place for superfluous things, - Thou dost order that which seems disorderly, - And things not dear to men are dear to Thee! - - “Thou dost harmonise into One both Good and Evil, - For there is One Everlasting Reason for them all. - - “O thou All-Giver, Dweller in the clouds, Lord of the thunder, - Save thou men from their own self-sought unhappiness, - Do thou, O Father, scatter darkness from their souls, and give - them light to discover true wisdom. - - “In being honoured let them pay Thee Honour, - Hymning Thy glorious works continually as beseems mortal men, - Since there can be no greater glory for men or gods than this, - To praise for ever and ever the grand and Universal Law! - Amen!--Amen!--Amen!” - -“Strange they should elect to sing that”--said Strathlea musingly--“I -remember learning it off by heart in my student days. They have left -out a verse of it here and there,--but it is quite a Pagan hymn.” - -“It seems to me very good Christianity”--said Irene Vassilius, her -eyes kindling with emotion--“It is a grand and convincing act of -thanksgiving, and I think we have more cause for thankfulness than -supplication.” - -“I am not yet quite sure about that myself”--murmured Strathlea in her -ear--“I shall know better when the day is ended which I need most, -prayer or thanksgiving.” - -She coloured a little and her eyes fell,--meanwhile the solemn music -ceased. - -“Shall I ring?” inquired Sir Frederick as the last note died away on -the air. - -They all silently acquiesced,--and by means of a coarse rope hanging -down among the flowers the bell was gently set in motion. Its soft -clang was almost immediately answered by a venerable monk in white -garments, with a long rosary twisted into his girdle and a Cross and -Star blazoned in gold upon his breast. - -“Benedicite!” said this personage mildly, making the sign of the cross -before otherwise addressing the visitors,--then, as they instinctively -bent their heads to the pious greeting, he opened the door a little -wider and asked them in French what they sought. - -For answer Madame Vassilius stepped forward and gave him an open -letter, one which she knew would serve as a pass to obtain ready -admission to the monastery, and as the monk glanced it over his pale -features brightened visibly. - -“Ah! Friends of our youngest brother Sebastian”--he said in fluent -English--“Enter! You are most heartily welcome.” - -He stood aside, and they all passed under the low porch into a square -hall, painted from ceiling to floor in delicate fresco. The designs -were so beautiful and so admirably executed, that Strathlea could not -resist stopping to look at one or two of them. - -“These are very fine”--he said, addressing the gray-haired recluse who -escorted them--“Are they the work of some ancient or modern artist?” - -The old man smiled and gave a deprecating, almost apologetic gesture. - -“They are the result of a few years’ pleasant labour”--he replied--“I -was very happy while employed thus.” - -“You did them!” exclaimed Lady Vaughan, turning her eyes upon him in -frank wonder and admiration--“Why then you are a genius!” - -The monk shook his head. - -“Oh no, Madame, not so. We none of us lay claim to ‘genius’; that is -for those in the outer world,--here we simply work and do our best for -the mere love of doing it.” - -Here, preceding them a little, he threw open a door, and ushered them -into a quaint low room, panelled in oak, and begged them to be seated -for a few moments while he went to inform “Brother Sebastian” of their -arrival. - -Left alone they gazed about in silence, till Sir Frederick, after -staring hard at the panelled walls said-- - -“You may be pretty sure these fellows have carved every bit of that -oak themselves. Monks are always wonderful workmen,--_Laborare est -orare_, you know. By the way I noticed that monk artist who was with -us just now wore no tonsure,--I wonder why? Anyhow it’s a very ugly -disfigurement and quite senseless; they do well to abjure it.” - -“Is this man you come to see,--El-Râmi--a member of the Fraternity?” -asked Strathlea of Irene in a low tone. - -She shook her head compassionately. - -“Oh no--poor creature,--he would not understand their rules or their -discipline. He is simply in their charge, as one who must for all his -life be weak and helpless.” - -At that moment the door opened, and a tall slim figure appeared, clad -in the trailing white garments of the brotherhood; and in the dark -poetic face, brilliant eyes and fine sensitive mouth there was little -difficulty in recognising Féraz as the “Brother Sebastian” for whom -they waited. He advanced towards them with singular grace and quiet -dignity,--the former timidity and impetuosity of, youth had entirely -left him, and from his outward aspect and, bearing he looked like a -young saint whose thoughts were always set on the highest things, yet -who nevertheless had known what it was to suffer in the search for -peace. - -“You are most welcome, Madame”--he said, inclining himself with a -courteous gentleness towards Irene,--“I expected you,--I felt sure -that you would one day come to see us. I know you were always -interested in my brother ...” - -“I was, and am still”--replied Irene gently, “and in yourself also.” - -Féraz, or “Brother Sebastian” as he was now called, made another -gentle salutation expressive of gratitude, and then turned his eyes -questioningly on the other members of the party. - -“You will not need to be reminded of Sir Frederick Vaughan and Lady -Vaughan,”--went on Irene,--then as these exchanged greetings, she -added--“This gentleman whom you do not know is the Duke of -Strathlea,--we have made the journey from England in his yacht, -and----” she hesitated a moment, the colour deepening a little in her -fair cheeks--“he is a great friend of mine.” - -Féraz glanced at her once,--then once at Strathlea, and a grave smile -softened his pensive face. He extended his hand with a frank -cordiality that was charming, and Strathlea pressed it warmly, -fascinated by the extreme beauty and dignity of this youthful ascetic, -sworn to the solitariness of the religious life ere he had touched his -manhood’s prime. - -“And how is El-Râmi?” asked Sir Frederick with good-natured -bluffness--“My cousin Melthorpe was much distressed to hear what had -happened,--and so were we all,--really--a terrible calamity--but you -know overstudy will upset a man,--it’s no use doing too much----” - -He broke off his incoherent remarks abruptly, embarrassed a little by -the calmly mournful gaze of “Brother Sebastian’s” deep dark eyes. - -“You are very good, Sir Frederick,”--he said gently--“I am sure you -sympathise truly, and I thank you all for your sympathy. But--I am not -sure that I should be sorrowful for my brother’s seeming affliction. -God’s will has been made manifest in this, as in other things,--and we -must needs accept that will without complaint. For the rest, El-Râmi -is well,--and not only well, but happy. Let me take you to him.” - -They hesitated,--all except Irene. Lady Vaughan was a nervous -creature,--she had a very vivid remembrance of El-Râmi’s “terrible -eyes”--they looked fiery enough when he was sane,--but how would they -look now when he was ... mad? She moved uneasily,--her husband pulled -his long moustache doubtfully as he studied her somewhat alarmed -countenance,--and Féraz, glancing at the group, silently understood -the situation. - -“Will you come with me, Madame?” he said, addressing himself solely to -Irene--“It is better perhaps that you should see him first alone. But -he will not distress you ... he is quite harmless ... poor El-Râmi!” - -In spite of himself his voice trembled,--and Irene’s warm heart -swelled for sympathy. - -“I will come at once”--she said, and as she prepared to leave the room -Strathlea whispered: “Let me go with you!” - -She gave a mute sign of assent,--and Féraz leading the way, they -quietly followed, while Sir Frederick and his wife remained behind. -They passed first through a long stone corridor,--then into a -beautiful quadrangular court with a fountain in its centre, and wooden -benches set at equal distances under its moss-grown vine-covered -colonnade. Flowers grew everywhere in the wildest, loveliest -profusion,--tame doves strutted about on the pavement with peaceful -and proud complacency, and palms and magnolias grew up in tall and -tangled profusion wherever they could obtain root-hold, casting their -long, leafy trembling shadows across the quadrangle and softening the -too dazzling light reflected from the brilliant sky above. Up in a far -corner of this little garden paradise, under the shade of a spreading -cedar, sat the placid figure of a man,--one of the brethren at first -he seemed, for he was clothed in the garb of the monastic order, and a -loose cowl was flung back from his uncovered head on which the hair -shone white and glistening as fine spun silver. His hands were loosely -clasped together,--his large dark eyes were fixed on the rays of light -that quivered prismatically in the foam of the tossing fountain, and -near his feet a couple of amorous snowy doves sat brooding in the sun. -He did not seem to hear the footsteps of his approaching visitors, and -even when they came close up to him, it was only by slow degrees that -he appeared to become conscious of their presence. - -“El-Râmi!” said his brother with tender gentleness--“El-Râmi, these -are friends who have journeyed hither to see you.” - -Then, like a man reluctantly awaking from a long and pleasant noonday -dream, he rose and stood up with singularly majestic dignity, and for -a moment looked so like the proud, indomitable El-Râmi of former -days, that Irene Vassilius in her intense interest and compassion for -him, half fancied that the surprise of seeing old acquaintances had -for a brief interval brought back both reason and remembrance. But -no,--his eyes rested upon her unrecognisingly, though he greeted her -and Strathlea also, with the stateliest of salutations. - -“Friends are always welcome”--he said, “But friends are rare in the -world,--it is not in the world one must look for them. There was a -time I assure you, ... when I ... even I, ... could have had the most -powerful of all friends for the mere asking,--but it is too late -now--too late.” - -He sighed profoundly, and seated himself again on the bench as before. - -“What does he mean?” asked Strathlea of Féraz in a low tone. - -“It is not always easy to understand him,” responded Féraz -gently--“But in this case, when he speaks of the friend he might have -had for the mere asking, he means,--God.” - -The warm tears rushed into Irene’s eyes. - -“Nay, God is his friend I am sure”--she said with fervour, “The great -Creator is no man’s enemy.” - -Féraz gave her an eloquent look. - -“True, dear Madame”--he answered,--“But there are times and seasons of -affliction when we feel and know ourselves to be unworthy of the -Divine friendship, and when our own conscience considers God as one -very far off.” - -Yielding to the deep impulse of pity that swayed her, she advanced -softly, and sitting down beside El-Râmi, took his hand in her own. He -turned and looked at her,--at the fair delicate face and soft ardent -eyes,--at the slight dainty figure in its close-fitting white -garb,--and a faint wondering smile brightened his features. - -“What is this?” he murmured, then glancing downward at her small white -ringless hand as it held his--“Is this an angel? Yes, it must -be,--well then, there is hope at last. You bring me news of Lilith?” - -Irene started, and her heart beat nervously,--she could not understand -this, to her, new phase of his wandering mind. What was she to say in -answer to so strange a question?--for who was Lilith? She gazed -helplessly at Féraz,--he returned her look with one so earnest and -imploring, that she answered at once as she thought most advisable-- - -“Yes!” - -A sudden trembling shook El-Râmi’s frame, and he seemed absorbed. -After a long pause, he lifted his dark eyes and fixed them solemnly -upon her. - -“Then, she knows all now?” he demanded--“She understands that I am -patient?--that I repent?--that I believe?--and that I love her as she -would have me love her,--faithfully and far beyond all life and time?” - -Without hesitation, and only anxious to soothe and comfort him, Irene -answered at once-- - -“Yes--yes--she understands. Be consoled--be patient still--you will -meet her soon again.” - -“Soon again?” he echoed, with a pathetic glance upward at the dazzling -blue sky--“Soon? In a thousand years?--or a thousand thousand?--for so -do happy angels count the time. To me an hour is long--but to Lilith, -cycles are moments.” - -His head sank on his breast,--he seemed to fall suddenly into a dreamy -state of meditation,--and just then a slow bell began to toll to and -fro from a wooden turret on the monastery roof. - -“That is for vespers”--said Féraz--“Will you come, Madame, and hear -our singing? You shall see El-Râmi again afterwards.” - -Silently she rose, but her movement to depart roused El-Râmi from his -abstraction, and he looked at her wistfully. - -“They say there is happiness in the world”--he said slowly, “but I -have not found it. Little messenger of peace, are you happy?” - -The pathos of his rich musical voice, as he said the words “little -messenger of peace,” was indescribably touching. Strathlea found his -eyes suddenly growing dim with tears, and Irene’s voice trembled -greatly as she answered-- - -“No, not quite happy, dear friend;--we are none of us quite happy.” - -“Not without love,”--said El-Râmi, speaking with sudden firmness and -decision--“Without love we are powerless. With it, we can compass all -things. Do not miss love; it is the clue to the great Secret,--the -only key to God’s mystery. But you know this already,--better than I -can tell you,--for I have missed it,--not lost it, you understand, but -only missed it. I shall find it again,--I hope, ... I pray I shall -find it again! God be with you, little messenger! Be happy while you -can!” - -He extended his hand with a gesture which might have been one of -dismissal or benediction or both, and then sank into his former -attitude of resigned contemplation, while Irene Vassilius, too much -moved to speak, walked across the court between Strathlea and the -beautiful young “Brother Sebastian,” scarcely seeing the sunlight for -tears. Strathlea, too, was deeply touched;--so splendid a figure of a -man as El-Râmi he had seldom seen, and the ruin of brilliant -faculties in such a superb physique appeared to him the most -disastrous of calamities. - -“Is he always like that?” he inquired of Féraz, with a backward -compassionate glance at the quiet figure sitting under the -cedar-boughs. - -“Nearly always,” replied Féraz--“Sometimes he talks of birds and -flowers,--sometimes he takes a childish delight in the sunlight--he is -most happy, I think, when I take him alone into the chapel and play to -him on the organ. He is very peaceful, and never at any time violent.” - -“And,” pursued Strathlea, hesitatingly, “who is, or who was the Lilith -he speaks of?” - -“A woman he loved”--answered Féraz quietly--“and whom he loves still. -She lives--for him--in Heaven.” - -No more questions were asked, and in another minute they arrived at -the open door of the little chapel, where Sir Frederick and Lady -Vaughan, attracted by the sound of music, were already awaiting them. -Irene briefly whispered a hurried explanation of El-Râmi’s condition, -and Lady Vaughan declared she would go and see him after the -vesper-service was over. - -“You must not expect the usual sort of vespers”--said Féraz -then--“Our form is not the Roman Catholic.” - -“Is it not?” queried Strathlea, surprised--“Then, may one ask what is -it?” - -“Our own,”--was the brief response. - -Three or four white-cowled, white-garmented figures now began to glide -into the chapel by a side-entrance, and Sir Frederick Vaughan asked -with some curiosity: - -“Which is the Superior?” - -“We have no Superior”--replied Féraz--“There is one Master of all the -Brotherhoods, but he has no fixed habitation, and he is not at present -in Europe. He visits the different branches of our Fraternity at -different intervals,--but he has not been here since my brother and I -came. In this house we are a sort of small Republic,--each man governs -himself, and we are all in perfect unity, as we all implicitly follow -the same fixed rules. Will you go into the chapel now? I must leave -you, as I have to sing the chorale.” - -They obeyed his gesture, and went softly into the little sacred place, -now glowing with light, and redolent of sweet perfume, the natural -incense wafted on the air from the many flowers which were clustered -in every nook and corner. Seating themselves quietly on a wooden bench -at the end of the building, they watched the proceedings in mingled -wonder and reverence,--for such a religious service as this they had -assuredly never witnessed. There was no altar,--only an arched recess, -wherein stood a large, roughly-carved wooden cross, the base of which -was entirely surrounded with the rarest flowers. Through the -stained-glass window behind, the warm afternoon light streamed -gloriously,--it fell upon the wooden beams of the Sign of Salvation, -with a rose and purple radiance like that of newly-kindled fire,--and -as the few monks gathered together and knelt before it in silent -prayer, the scene was strangely impressive, though the surroundings -were so simple. And when, through the deep stillness an organ-chord -broke grandly like a wave from the sea, and the voice of Féraz, deep, -rich, and pathetic exclaimed as it were, in song, - - “_Quare tristis es anima mea?_ - _Quare conturbas me?_” - -giving the reply in still sweeter accents, - - “_Spera in Deo!_” - -then Irene Vassilius sank on her knees and hid her face in her clasped -hands, her whole soul shaken by emotion and uplifted to heaven by the -magic of divinest harmony. Strathlea looked at her slight kneeling -figure and his heart beat passionately,--he bent his head too, close -beside hers, partly out of a devotional sense, partly perhaps to have -a nearer glimpse of the lovely fair hair that clustered in such -tempting little ripples and curls on the back of her slim white neck. -The monks, prostrating themselves before the Cross, murmured together -some indistinct orisons for a few minutes,--then came a pause,--and -once more the voice of Féraz rang out in soft warm vibrating notes of -melody;--the words he sang were his own, and fell distinctly on the -ears as roundly and perfectly as the chime of a true-toned bell-- - - O hear ye not the voice of the Belovëd? - Through golden seas of starry light it falls, - And like a summons in the night it calls, - Saying,--“Lost children of the Father’s House - Why do ye wander wilfully away? - Lo, I have sought ye sorrowing every day,-- - And yet ye will not answer,--will not turn - To meet My love for which the angels yearn! - In all the causeless griefs wherewith your hearts are movëd - Have ye no time to hear the Voice of the Belovëd?” - - O hearken to the Voice of the Belovëd! - Sweeter it is than music,--sweeter far - Than angel-anthems in a happy star! - O wandering children of the Father’s House, - Turn homeward ere the coming of the night, - Follow the pathway leading to the light! - So shall the sorrows of long exile cease - And tears be turned to smiles and pain to peace. - Lift up your hearts and let your faith be provëd;-- - Answer, oh answer the Voice of the Belovëd! - -Very simple stanzas these, and yet, sung by Féraz as only he could -sing, they carried in their very utterance a singularly passionate and -beautiful appeal. The fact of his singing the verses in English -implied a gracefully-intended compliment to his visitors,--and after -the last line “Answer, oh answer the voice of the Belovëd!” a deep -silence reigned in the little chapel. After some minutes this silence -was gently disturbed by what one might express as the gradual -_flowing-in_ of music,--a soft, persuasive ripple of sound that seemed -to wind in and out as though it had crept forth from the air as a -stream creeps through the grasses. And while that delicious harmony -rose and fell on the otherwise absolute stillness, Strathlea was -thrilled through every nerve of his being by the touch of a small soft -warm hand that stole tremblingly near his own as the music stole into -his heart;--a hand that after a little hesitation placed itself on his -in a wistfully submissive way that filled him with rapture and wonder. -He pressed the clinging dainty fingers in his own broad palm-- - -“Irene!” he whispered, as he bent his head lower in apparent -devotion--“Irene,--is this my answer?” - -She looked up and gave him one fleeting glance through eyes that were -dim with tears; a faint smile quivered on her lips,--and then, she hid -her face again,--but--left her hand in his. And as the music, solemn -and sweet, surged around them both like a rolling wave, Strathlea knew -his cause was won, and for this favour of high Heaven, mentally -uttered a brief but passionately fervent “_Laus Deo_.” He had obtained -the best blessing that God can give--Love,--and he felt devoutly -certain that he had nothing more to ask for in this world or the next. -Love for him was enough,--as indeed it should be enough for us all if -only we will understand it in its highest sense. Shall we ever -understand?--or never? - - - - - XLIV. - -The vespers over, the little party of English visitors passed out of -the chapel into the corridor. There they waited in silence, the -emotions of two of them at least, being sufficiently exalted to make -any attempt at conversation difficult. It was not however very long -before Féraz or “Brother Sebastian” joined them, and led them as -though by some involuntary instinct into the flower-grown quadrangle, -where two or three of the monks were now to be seen pacing up and down -in the strong red sunset-light with books open in their hands, pausing -ever and anon in their slow walk to speak to El-Râmi, who sat, as -before, alone under the boughs of the cedar-tree. One of the tame -doves that had previously been seen nestling at his feet, had now -taken up its position on his knee, and was complacently huddled down -there, allowing itself to be stroked, and uttering crooning sounds of -satisfaction as his hand passed caressingly over its folded white -wings. Féraz said very little as he escorted all his guests up to -within a yard or so of El-Râmi’s secluded seat,--but Lady Vaughan -paused irresolutely, gazing timidly and with something of awe at the -quiet reposeful figure, the drooped head, the delicate dark hand that -stroked the dove’s wings,--and as she looked and strove to realise -that this gentle, submissive, meditative, hermit-like man was indeed -the once proud and indomitable El-Râmi, a sudden trembling came over -her, and a rush of tears blinded her eyes. - -“I cannot speak to him”--she whispered sobbingly to her husband--“He -looks so far away,--I am sure he is not here with us at all!” - -Sir Frederick, distressed at his wife’s tears, murmured something -soothing,--but he too was rendered nervous by the situation and he -could find no words in which to make his feelings intelligible. So, as -before, Irene Vassilius took the initiative. Going close up to -El-Râmi, she with a quick yet graceful impulsiveness threw herself in -a half-kneeling attitude before him. - -“El-Râmi!” she said. - -He started, and stared down upon her amazedly,--yet was careful in all -his movements not to disturb the drowsing white dove upon his knee. - -“Who calls me?” he demanded--“Who speaks?” - -“I call you”--replied Irene, regardless how her quite unconventional -behaviour might affect the Vaughans as onlookers--“I ask you, dear -friend, to listen to me. I want to tell you that I am happy--very -happy,--and that before I go, you must give me your blessing.” - -A pathetic pain and wonderment crossed El-Râmi’s features. He looked -helplessly at Féraz,--for though he did not recognise him as his -brother, he was accustomed to rely upon him for everything. - -“This is very strange!” he faltered--“No one has ever asked me for a -blessing. Make her understand that I have no power at all to do any -good by so much as a word or a thought. I am a very poor and ignorant -man--quite at God’s mercy.” - -Féraz bent above him with a soothing gesture. - -“Dear El-Râmi,” he said--“this lady honours you. You will wish her -well ere she departs from us,--that is all she seeks.” - -El-Râmi turned again towards Irene, who remained perfectly quiet in -the attitude she had assumed. - -“I thought,”--he murmured slowly--“I thought you were an angel; it -seems you are a woman. Sometimes they are one and the same thing. Not -often, but sometimes. Women are wronged,--much wronged,--when God -endows them, they see farther than we do. But you must not honour -me,--I am not worthy to be honoured. A little child is much wiser than -I am. Of course I must wish you well--I could not do otherwise. You -see this poor bird,”--and he again stroked the dove which now dozed -peacefully--“I wish it well also. It has its mate and its hole in the -dove-cote, and numberless other little joys,--I would have it always -happy,--and ... so--I would have you always happy too. And,--most -assuredly, if you desire it, I will say--‘God bless you!’” - -Here he seemed to collect his thoughts with some effort,--his dark -brows contracted perplexedly,--then, after a minute, his expression -brightened, and, as if he had just remembered something, he carefully -and with almost trembling reverence, made the sign of the cross above -Irene’s drooping head. She gently caught the hovering hand and kissed -it. He smiled placidly, like a child who is caressed. - -“You are very good to me”--he said--“I am quite sure you are an angel. -And being so, you need no blessing--God knows His own, and always -claims them ... in the end.” - -He closed his eyes languidly then and seemed fatigued,--his hand still -mechanically stroked the dove’s wings. They left him so, moving away -from him with hushed and cautious steps. He had not noticed Sir -Frederick or Lady Vaughan,--and they were almost glad of this, as they -were themselves entirely disinclined to speak. To see so great a wreck -of a once brilliant intellect was a painful spectacle to good-natured -Sir Frederick,--while on Lady Vaughan it had the effect of a severe -nervous shock. She thought she would have been better able to bear the -sight of a distracted and howling maniac, than the solemn pitifulness -of that silent submission, that grave patience of a physically strong -man transformed, as it were, into a child. They walked round the -court, Féraz gathering as he went bouquets of roses and jessamine and -passiflora for the two ladies. - -“He seems comfortable and happy”--Sir Frederick ventured to remark at -last. - -“He is, perfectly so”--rejoined Féraz. “It is very rarely that he is -depressed or uneasy. He may live on thus till he is quite old, they -tell me,--his physical health is exceptionally good.” - -“And you will always stay with him?” said Irene. - -“Can you ask, Madame!” and Féraz smiled--“It is my one joy to serve -him. I grieve sometimes that he does not know me really, who I -am,--but I have a secret feeling that one day that part of the cloud -will lift, and he _will_ know. For the rest he is pleased and soothed -to have me near him,--that is all I desire. He did everything for me -once,--it is fitting I should do everything for him now. God is -good,--and in His measure of affliction there is always a great -sweetness.” - -“Surely you do not think it well for your brother to have lost the -control of his brilliant intellectual faculties?” asked Sir Frederick, -surprised. - -“I think everything well that God designs”--answered Féraz gently, -now giving the flowers he had gathered, to Irene and Lady Vaughan, and -looking, as he stood in his white robes against a background of rosy -sunset-light, like a glorified young saint in a picture,--“El-Râmi’s -intellectual faculties were far too brilliant, too keen, too -dominant,--his great force and supremacy of will too absolute. With -such powers as he had he would have ruled this world, and lost the -next. That is, he would have gained the Shadow and missed the -Substance. No, no--it is best as it is. ‘Except ye become as little -children, ye shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven!’ That is a true -saying. In the Valley of Humiliation the birds of paradise sing, and -in El-Râmi’s earth-darkness there are gleams of the Light Divine. I -am content,--and so, I firmly and devoutly believe, is he.” - -With this, and a few more parting words, the visitors now prepared to -take their leave. Suddenly Irene Vassilius perceived an exquisite rose -hanging down among the vines that clambered about the walls of the -little monastery;--a rose pure white in its outer petals but tenderly -tinted with a pale blush pink towards its centre. Acting on her own -impulsive idea, she gathered it, and hastened back alone across the -quadrangle to where El-Râmi sat absorbed and lost in his own drowsy -dreams. - -“Good-bye, dear friend,--good-bye!” she said softly, and held the -fragrant beautiful bud towards him. - -He opened his sad dark eyes and smiled,--then extended his hand and -took the flower. - -“I thank you, little messenger of peace!” he said--“It is a rose from -Heaven,--it is the Soul of Lilith!” - - [FINIS] - - - - - FOOTNOTES. - - [1] - From _The Natural Law of Miracles_, written in Arabic 400 B.C. - - [2] - This remarkable passage on the admitted effects of hypnotism as - practised by the priests of ancient Egypt will be found in an old - history of the building of the Pyramids entitled--“The Egyptian - Account of the Pyramids”--Written in the Arabic by Murtadi the son of - Gaphiphus--date about 1400. - - [3] - Copied verbatim from the current Press. - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES. - -The edition published by Grosset & Dunlap (NY, 1892) was referenced -for most of the fixes listed below. - -The above-mentioned edition’s cover was used for this ebook. - -Alterations to the text: - -Add TOC. - -Assorted punctuation fixes. - -Relabel footnote markers, collect footnotes at end of text, and add -an entry to the TOC. - -[Chapter I] - -Change “complex character of the _pyschological_ Dane” to -_psychological_. - -[Chapter II] - -“in honour of some _Serene_ and _Exalted_ foreign potentate” to -_serene_ and _exalted_. - -[Chapter III] - -“_El Râmi_! At last! How late you are!” to _El-Râmi_. - -[Chapter VIII] - -“_Férez_ gazed at her compassionately and” to _Féraz_. - -[Chapter X] - -“tell me, is there _No_ answer?” to _no_. - -[Chapter XVII] - -“The conqueror shall be conquered, El-Râmi _Zâranos_” to _Zarânos_. - -[Chapter XXVIII] - -(like those of Féraz’s ideal ladye-love, were) Surround _ideal -ladye-love_ with quotation marks. - -[Chapter XXXII] - -“that there was _somethimg_ in the silent” to _something_. - -[Chapter XXXV] - -“lines with strange _eagernes sand_ fervour” to _eagerness and_. - -“He will, and as He will! _Good night_!” to _Good-night_. - -[End of Text] - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF LILITH *** - -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The soul of Lilith</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Marie Corelli</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 16, 2022 [eBook #68771]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF LILITH ***</div> - -<div class="tp"> -<h1> -THE SOUL OF LILITH -</h1> - -<span class="font80">BY</span><br/> -MARIE CORELLI - -<br/><br/><br/> -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i font80"> -<p class="i0">“NOT A DROP OF HER BLOOD WAS HUMAN,</p> -<p class="i0">BUT SHE WAS MADE LIKE A SOFT SWEET WOMAN”</p> -<p class="right">DANTE G. ROSSETTI</p> -</div></div> - -<br/><br/><br/> -<span class="font80">TWELFTH EDITION</span> - -<br/><br/><br/><br/> -METHUEN & CO.<br/> -<span class="font80">36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.<br/> -LONDON<br/> -1903<br/> -<i>Colonial Library</i></span> -</div> - - -<h2> -CONTENTS. -</h2> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch01">Chapter I</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch02">Chapter II</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch03">Chapter III</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch04">Chapter IV</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch05">Chapter V</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch06">Chapter VI</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch07">Chapter VII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch08">Chapter VIII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch09">Chapter IX</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch10">Chapter X</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch11">Chapter XI</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch12">Chapter XII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch13">Chapter XIII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch14">Chapter XIV</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch15">Chapter XV</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch16">Chapter XVI</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch17">Chapter XVII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch18">Chapter XVIII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch19">Chapter XIX</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch20">Chapter XX</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch21">Chapter XXI</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch22">Chapter XXII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch23">Chapter XXIII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch24">Chapter XXIV</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch25">Chapter XXV</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch26">Chapter XXVI</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch27">Chapter XXVII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch28">Chapter XXVIII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch29">Chapter XXIX</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch30">Chapter XXX</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch31">Chapter XXXI</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch32">Chapter XXXII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch33">Chapter XXXIII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch34">Chapter XXXIV</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch35">Chapter XXXV</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch36">Chapter XXXVI</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch37">Chapter XXXVII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch38">Chapter XXXVIII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch39">Chapter XXXIX</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch40">Chapter XL</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch41">Chapter XLI</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch42">Chapter XLII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch43">Chapter XLIII</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch44">Chapter XLIV</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#fn">Footnotes</a> -</p> - - -<h2> -INTRODUCTORY NOTE. -</h2> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">The</span> following story does not assume to be what is generally -understood by a “novel.” It is simply the account of a strange and -daring experiment once actually attempted, and is offered to those who -are interested in the unseen “possibilities” of the Hereafter, merely -for what it is,—a single episode in the life of a man who voluntarily -sacrificed his whole worldly career in a supreme effort to prove the -apparently Unprovable. -</p> - - -<h2> -THE SOUL OF LILITH. -</h2> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="ch01"> -I. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">The</span> theatre was full,—crowded from floor to ceiling; the lights -were turned low to give the stage full prominence,—and a large -audience packed close in pit and gallery as well as in balcony and -stalls, listened with or without interest, whichever way best suited -their different temperaments and manner of breeding, to the well-worn -famous soliloquy in <i>Hamlet</i>—“To be or not to be.” It was the first -night of a new rendering of Shakespeare’s ever puzzling play,—the -chief actor was a great actor, albeit not admitted as such by the -petty cliques,—he had thought out the strange and complex character -of the psychological Dane for himself, with the result that even the -listless, languid, generally impassive occupants of the stalls, many -of whom had no doubt heard a hundred Hamlets, were roused for once out -of their chronic state of boredom into something like attention, as -the familiar lines fell on their ears with a slow and meditative -richness of accent not commonly heard on the modern stage. This new -Hamlet chose his attitudes well; instead of walking, or rather -strutting about, as he uttered the soliloquy, he seated himself and -for a moment seemed lost in silent thought;—then, without changing -his position he began, his voice gathering deeper earnestness as the -beauty and solemnity of the immortal lines became more pronounced and -concentrated. -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i10">“To die—to sleep;—</p> -<p class="i0">To sleep!—perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub,</p> -<p class="i0">For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,</p> -<p class="i0">When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,</p> -<p class="i0">Must give us pause. ...”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -Here there was a brief and impressive silence. In that short interval, -and before the actor could resume his speech, a man entered the -theatre with noiseless step, and seated himself in a vacant stall of -the second row. A few heads were instinctively turned to look at him, -but in the semi-gloom of the auditorium his features could scarcely be -discerned, and Hamlet’s sad rich voice again compelled attention. -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i6">“Who would fardels bear,</p> -<p class="i0">To grunt and sweat under a weary life,</p> -<p class="i0">But that the dread of something after death,</p> -<p class="i0">The undiscovered country from whose bourne</p> -<p class="i0">No traveller returns, puzzles the will,</p> -<p class="i0">And makes us rather bear those ills we have</p> -<p class="i0">Than fly to others that we know not of?</p> -<p class="i0">Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;</p> -<p class="i0">And thus the native hue of resolution</p> -<p class="i0">Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought;</p> -<p class="i0">And enterprises of great pith and moment,</p> -<p class="i0">With this regard, their currents turn awry</p> -<p class="i0">And lose the name of action.”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -The scene went on to the despairing interview with Ophelia, which was -throughout performed with such splendid force and feeling as to awaken -a perfect hurricane of applause;—then the curtain went down, the -lights went up, the orchestra recommenced, and again inquisitive eyes -were turned towards the latest new-comer in the stalls who had made -his quiet entrance in the very midst of the great philosophical -soliloquy. He was immediately discovered to be a person well worth -observing; and observed he was accordingly, though he seemed quite -unaware of the attention he was attracting. Yet he was -singular-looking enough to excite a little curiosity even among modern -fashionable Londoners, who are accustomed to see all sorts of -eccentric beings, both male and female, æsthetic and commonplace; and -he was so distinctly separated from ordinary folk by his features and -bearing, that the rather loud whisper of an irrepressible young -American woman, “I’d give worlds to know who that man is!” was almost -pardonable under the circumstances. His skin was dark as a -mulatto’s,—yet smooth, and healthily coloured by the warm blood -flushing through the olive tint,—his eyes seemed black, but could -scarcely be seen on account of the extreme length and thickness of -their dark lashes,—the fine, rather scornful curve of his short upper -lip was partially hidden by a black moustache; and with all this -blackness and darkness about his face his hair, of which he seemed to -have an extraordinary profusion, was perfectly white. Not merely a -silvery white, but a white as pronounced as that of a bit of washed -fleece or newly-fallen snow. In looking at him it was impossible to -decide whether he was old or young,—because, though he carried no -wrinkles or other defacing marks of Time’s power to destroy, his -features wore an impress of such stern and deeply-resolved thought as -is seldom or never the heritage of those to whom youth still belongs. -Nevertheless, he seemed a long way off from being old,—so that, -altogether, he was a puzzle to his neighbours in the stalls, as well -as to certain fair women in the boxes, who levelled their -opera-glasses at him with a pertinacity which might have made him -uncomfortably self-conscious had he looked up. Only he did not look -up; he leaned back in his seat with a slightly listless air, studied -his programme intently, and appeared half asleep, owing to the way in -which his eyelids drooped, and the drowsy sweep of his lashes. The -irrepressible American girl almost forgot <i>Hamlet</i>, so absorbed was -she in staring at him, in spite of the <i>sotto-voce</i> remonstrances of -her decorous mother, who sat beside her,—and presently, as if aware -of, or annoyed by, her scrutiny, he lifted his eyes, and looked full -at her. With an instinctive movement she recoiled,—and her own eyes -fell. Never in all her giddy, thoughtless little life had she seen -such fiery, brilliant, night-black orbs,—they made her feel -uncomfortable,—gave her the “creeps,” as she afterwards -declared;—she shivered, drawing her satin opera-wrap more closely -about her, and stared at the stranger no more. He soon removed his -piercing gaze from her to the stage, for the now great “Play scene” of -<i>Hamlet</i> was in progress, and was from first to last a triumph for the -actor chiefly concerned. At the next fall of the curtain, a fair -dissipated-looking young fellow leaned over from the third row of -stalls, and touched the white-haired individual lightly on the -shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear El-Râmi! You here? At a theatre? Why, I should never have -thought you capable of indulging in such frivolity!” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you consider <i>Hamlet</i> frivolous?” queried the other, rising from -his seat to shake hands, and showing himself to be a man of medium -height, though having such peculiar dignity of carriage as made him -appear taller than he really was. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, no!”—and the young man yawned rather effusively, “To tell you -the truth, I find him insufferably dull.” -</p> - -<p> -“You do?” and the person addressed as El-Râmi smiled slightly. -“Well,—naturally you go with the opinions of your age. You would no -doubt prefer a burlesque?” -</p> - -<p> -“Frankly speaking, I should! And now I begin to think of it, I don’t -know really why I came here. I had intended to look in at the -Empire—there’s a new ballet going on there—but a fellow at the club -gave me this stall, said it was a ‘first-night,’ and all the rest of -it—and so——” -</p> - -<p> -“And so fate decided for you,” finished El-Râmi sedately. “And -instead of admiring the pretty ladies without proper clothing at the -Empire, you find yourself here, wondering why the deuce Hamlet the -Dane could not find anything better to do than bother himself about -his father’s ghost! Exactly! But, being here, you are here for a -purpose, my friend;” and he lowered his voice to a confidential -whisper. “Look!—Over there—observe her well!—sits your future -wife;” and he indicated, by the slightest possible nod, the American -girl before alluded to. “Yes,—the pretty creature in pink, with dark -hair. You don’t know her? No, of course you don’t—but you will. She -will be introduced to you to-night before you leave this theatre. -Don’t look so startled—there’s nothing miraculous about her, I assure -you! She is merely Miss Chester, only daughter of Jabez Chester, the -latest New York millionaire. A charmingly shallow, delightfully -useless, but enormously wealthy little person!—you will propose to -her within a month, and you will be accepted. A very good match for -you, Vaughan—all your debts paid, and everything set straight with -certain Jews. Nothing could be better, really—and, remember,—I am -the first to congratulate you!” -</p> - -<p> -He spoke rapidly, with a smiling, easy air of conviction; his friend -meanwhile stared at him in profound amazement and something of fear. -</p> - -<p> -“By Jove, El-Râmi!”—he began nervously—“you know, this is a little -too much of a good thing. It’s all very well to play prophet -sometimes, but it can be overdone.” -</p> - -<p> -“Pardon!” and El-Râmi turned to resume his seat. “The play begins -again. Insufferably dull as Hamlet may be, we are bound to give him -some slight measure of attention.” -</p> - -<p> -Vaughan forced a careless smile in response, and threw himself -indolently back in his own stall, but he looked annoyed and puzzled. -His eyes wandered from the back of El-Râmi’s white head to the -half-seen profile of the American heiress who had just been so coolly -and convincingly pointed out to him as his future wife. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know the girl from Adam,”—he thought irritably, “and I don’t -want to know her. In fact, I won’t know her. And if I won’t, why, I -sha’n’t know her. Will is everything, even according to El-Râmi. The -fellow’s always so confoundedly positive of his prophecies. I should -like to confute him for once and prove him wrong.” -</p> - -<p> -Thus he mused, scarcely heeding the progress of Shakespeare’s great -tragedy, till, at the close of the scene of Ophelia’s burial, he saw -El-Râmi rise and prepare to leave the auditorium. He at once rose -himself. -</p> - -<p> -“Are you going?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes;—I do not care for Hamlet’s end, or for anybody’s end in this -particular play. I don’t like the hasty and wholesale slaughter that -concludes the piece. It is inartistic.” -</p> - -<p> -“Shakespeare inartistic?” queried Vaughan, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, yes, sometimes. He was a man, not a god;—and no man’s work can -be absolutely perfect. Shakespeare had his faults like everybody else, -and with his great genius he would have been the first to own them. It -is only your little mediocrities who are never wrong. Are you going -also?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes; I mean to damage your reputation as a prophet, and avoid the -chance of an introduction to Miss Chester—for this evening, at any -rate.” -</p> - -<p> -He laughed as he spoke, but El-Râmi said nothing. The two passed out -of the stalls together into the lobby, where they had to wait a few -minutes to get their hats and overcoats, the man in charge of the -cloak-room having gone to cool his chronic thirst at the convenient -“bar.” Vaughan made use of the enforced delay to light his cigar. -</p> - -<p> -“Did you think it a good <i>Hamlet</i>?” he asked his companion carelessly -while thus occupied. -</p> - -<p> -“Excellent,” replied El-Râmi. “The leading actor has immense talent, -and thoroughly appreciates the subtlety of the part he has to -play;—but his supporters are all sticks,—hence the scenes drag where -he himself is not in them. That is the worst of the ‘star’ system,—a -system which is perfectly ruinous to histrionic art. Still—no matter -how it is performed, <i>Hamlet</i> is always interesting. Curiously -inconsistent, too, but impressive.” -</p> - -<p> -“Inconsistent? How?” asked Vaughan, beginning to puff rings of smoke -into the air, and to wonder impatiently how much longer the keeper of -the cloak-room meant to stay absent from his post. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, in many ways. Perhaps the most glaring inconsistency of the whole -conception comes out in the great soliloquy, ‘To be or not to be.’” -</p> - -<p> -“Really?” and Vaughan became interested. “I thought that was -considered one of the finest bits in the play.” -</p> - -<p> -“So it is. I am not speaking of the lines themselves, which are -magnificent, but of their connection with Hamlet’s own character. Why -does he talk of a ‘bourne from whence no traveller returns,’ when he -has, or thinks he has, proof positive of the return of his own father -in spiritual form;—and it is just concerning that return that he -makes all the pother? Don’t you see inconsistency there?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course,—but I never thought of it,” said Vaughan, staring. “I -don’t believe any one but yourself has ever thought of it. It is quite -unaccountable. He certainly does say ‘no traveller returns,’—and he -says it after he has seen the ghost too.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” went on El-Râmi, warming with his subject. “And he talks of -the ‘dread of something after death,’ as if it were only a ‘dread,’ -and not a fact;—whereas if he is to believe the spirit of his own -father, which he declares is ‘an honest ghost,’ there is no -possibility of doubt on the matter. Does not the mournful phantom -say— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i9">“‘But that I am forbid</p> -<p class="i0">To tell the secrets of my prison-house,</p> -<p class="i0">I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word</p> -<p class="i0">Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;</p> -<p class="i0">Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres;</p> -<p class="i0">Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part,</p> -<p class="i0">And each particular hair to stand on end. ...’?”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“By Jove! I say, El-Râmi, don’t look at me like that!” exclaimed -Vaughan uneasily, backing away from a too close proximity to the -brilliant flashing eyes and absorbed face of his companion, who had -recited the lines with extraordinary passion and solemnity. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“Did I scare you? Was I too much in earnest? I beg your pardon! True -enough,—‘this eternal blazon must not be, to ears of flesh and -blood!’ But, the ‘something after death’ was a peculiarly aggravating -reality to that poor ghost, and Hamlet knew that it was so when he -spoke of it as a mere ‘dread.’ Thus, as I say, he was inconsistent, -or, rather, Shakespeare did not argue the case logically.” -</p> - -<p> -“You would make a capital actor,”—said Vaughan, still gazing at him -in astonishment. “Why, you went on just now as if,—well, as if you -meant it, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“So I did mean it,” replied El-Râmi lightly—“for the moment! I -always find <i>Hamlet</i> a rather absorbing study; so will you, perhaps, -when you are my age.” -</p> - -<p> -“Your age?” and Vaughan shrugged his shoulders. “I wish I knew it! -Why, nobody knows it. You may be thirty or a hundred—who can tell?” -</p> - -<p> -“Or two hundred—or even three hundred?” queried El-Râmi, with a -touch of satire in his tone;—“Why stint the measure of limitless -time? But here comes our recalcitrant knave”—this, as the keeper of -the cloak-room made his appearance from a side-door with a perfectly -easy and unembarrassed air, as though he had done rather a fine thing -than otherwise in keeping two gentlemen waiting his pleasure. “Let us -get our coats, and be well away before the decree of Fate can be -accomplished in making you the winner of the desirable Chester prize. -It is delightful to conquer Fate—if one can!” -</p> - -<p> -His black eyes flashed curiously, and Vaughan paused in the act of -throwing on his overcoat to look at him again in something of doubt -and dread. -</p> - -<p> -At that moment a gay voice exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“Why, here’s Vaughan!—Freddie Vaughan—how lucky!” and a big handsome -man of about two or three and thirty sauntered into the lobby from the -theatre, followed by two ladies. “Look here, Vaughan, you’re just the -fellow I wanted to see. We’ve left Hamlet in the thick of his fight, -because we’re going on to the Somers’s ball,—will you come with us? -And I say, Vaughan, allow me to introduce to you my friends—Mrs. -Jabez Chester, Miss Idina Chester—Sir Frederick Vaughan.” -</p> - -<p> -For one instant Vaughan stood inert and stupefied; the next he -remembered himself, and bowed mechanically. His presentation to the -Chesters was thus suddenly effected by his cousin, Lord Melthorpe, to -whom he was indebted for many favours, and whom he could not afford to -offend by any show of <i>brusquerie</i>. As soon as the necessary -salutations were exchanged, however, he looked round vaguely, and in a -sort of superstitious terror, for the man who had so surely prophesied -this introduction. But El-Râmi was gone. Silently and without adieu -he had departed, having seen his word fulfilled. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch02"> -II. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">Who</span> is the gentleman that has just left you?” asked Miss Chester, -smiling prettily up into Vaughan’s eyes, as she accepted his proffered -arm to lead her to her carriage,—“Such a distinguished-looking -dreadful person!” -</p> - -<p> -Vaughan smiled at this description. -</p> - -<p> -“He is certainly rather singular in personal appearance,” he began, -when his cousin, Lord Melthorpe, interrupted him. -</p> - -<p> -“You mean El-Râmi? It was El-Râmi, wasn’t it? Ah, I thought so. Why -did he give us the slip, I wonder? I wish he had waited a minute—he -is a most interesting fellow.” -</p> - -<p> -“But who is he?” persisted Miss Chester. She was now comfortably -ensconced in her luxurious brougham, her mother beside her, and two -men of “title” opposite to her—a position which exactly suited the -aspirations of her soul. “How very tiresome you both are! You don’t -explain him a bit; you only say he is ‘interesting,’ and of course one -can see that; people with such white hair and such black eyes are -always interesting, don’t you think so?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I don’t see why they should be,” said Lord Melthorpe dubiously. -“Now, just think what horrible chaps Albinos are, and they have white -hair and pink eyes——” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, don’t drift off on the subject of Albinos, please!” pleaded Miss -Chester, with a soft laugh. “If you do, I shall never know anything -about this particular person—El-Râmi, did you say? Isn’t it a very -odd name? Eastern, of course?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh yes! he is a pure Oriental thoroughbred,” replied Lord Melthorpe, -who took the burden of the conversation upon himself, while he -inwardly wondered why his cousin Vaughan was in such an evidently -taciturn mood. “That is, I mean, he is an Oriental of the very old -stock, not one of the modern Indian mixtures of vice and knavery. But -when he came from the East, and why he came from the East, I don’t -suppose any one could tell you. I have only met him two or three times -in society, and on those occasions he managed to perplex and fascinate -a good many people. My wife, for instance, thinks him quite a -marvellous man; she always asks him to her parties, but he hardly ever -comes. His name in full is El-Râmi-Zarânos, though I believe he is -best known as El-Râmi simply.” -</p> - -<p> -“And what is he?” asked Miss Chester. “An artist?—A literary -celebrity?” -</p> - -<p> -“Neither, that I am aware of. Indeed, I don’t know what he is, or how -he lives. I have always looked upon him as a sort of magician—a kind -of private conjurer, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me!” said fat Mrs. Chester, waking up from a semi-doze, and -trying to get interested in the subject. “Does he do drawing-room -tricks?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, he doesn’t do tricks;” and Lord Melthorpe looked a little -amused. “He isn’t that sort of man at all; I’m afraid I explain myself -badly. I mean that he can tell you extraordinary things about your -past and future——” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, by your hand—<i>I</i> know!” and the pretty Idina nodded her head -sagaciously. “There really is something awfully clever in palmistry. -<i>I</i> can tell fortunes that way!” -</p> - -<p> -“Can you?” Lord Melthorpe smiled indulgently, and went on,—“But it so -happens that El-Râmi does not tell anything by the hands,—he judges -by the face, figure, and movement. He doesn’t make a profession of it; -but, really, he does foretell events in rather a curious way now and -then.” -</p> - -<p> -“He certainly does!” agreed Vaughan, rousing himself from a reverie -into which he had fallen, and fixing his eyes on the small <i>piquante</i> -features of the girl opposite him. “Some of his prophecies are quite -remarkable.” -</p> - -<p> -“Really! How very delightful!” said Miss Chester, who was fully aware -of Sir Frederick’s intent, almost searching, gaze, but pretended to be -absorbed in buttoning one of her gloves. “I must ask him to tell me -what sort of fate is in store for me—something awful, I’m positive! -Don’t you think he has horrid eyes?—splendid, but horrid? He looked -at me in the theatre——” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear, you looked at him first,” murmured Mrs. Chester. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes; but I’m sure I didn’t make him shiver. Now, when he looked at -me, I felt as if some one were pouring cold water very slowly down my -back. It was <i>such</i> a creepy sensation! Do fasten this, mother—will -you?” and she extended the hand with the refractory glove upon it to -Mrs. Chester, but Vaughan promptly interposed: -</p> - -<p> -“Allow me!” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, well! if you know how to fix a button that is almost off!” she -said laughingly, with a blush that well became her transparent skin. -</p> - -<p> -“I can make an attempt,”—said Vaughan, with due humility. “If I -succeed will you give me one or two dances presently?” -</p> - -<p> -“With pleasure!” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh! you <i>are</i> coming in to the Somers’s, then?” said Lord Melthorpe, -in a pleased tone. “That’s right. You know, Fred, you’re so -absent-minded to-night that you never said ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ when I asked -you to accompany us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Didn’t I? I’m awfully sorry!” and, having fastened the glove with -careful daintiness, he smiled. “Please set down my rudeness and -distraction to the uncanny influence of El-Râmi; I can’t imagine any -other reason.” -</p> - -<p> -They all laughed carelessly, as people in an idle humour laugh at -trifles, and the carriage bore them on to their destination—a great -house in Queen’s Gate, where a magnificent entertainment was being -held in honour of some serene and exalted foreign potentate who had -taken it into his head to see how London amused itself during a -“season.” The foreign potentate had heard that the splendid English -capital was full of gloom and misery—that its women were -unapproachable, and its men difficult to make friends with; and all -these erroneous notions had to be dispersed in his serene and exalted -brain, no matter what his education cost the “Upper Ten” who undertook -to enlighten his barbarian ignorance. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, the subject of Lord Melthorpe’s conversation—El-Râmi, or -El-Râmi-Zarânos, as he was called by those of his own race—was -walking quietly homewards with that firm, swift, yet apparently -unhasting pace which so often distinguishes the desert-born savage, -and so seldom gives grace to the deportment of the cultured citizen. -It was a mild night in May; the weather was unusually fine and warm; -the skies were undarkened by any mist or cloud, and the stars shone -forth with as much brilliancy as though the city lying under their -immediate ken had been the smiling fairy Florence, instead of the -brooding giant London. Now and again El-Râmi raised his eyes to the -sparkling belt of Orion, which glittered aloft with a lustre that is -seldom seen in the hazy English air;—he was thinking his own -thoughts, and the fact that there were many passers to and fro in the -streets besides himself did not appear to disturb him in the least, -for he strode through their ranks without any hurry or jostling, as if -he alone existed, and they were but shadows. -</p> - -<p> -“What fools are the majority of men!” he mused. “How easy to gull -them, and how willing they are to be gulled! How that silly young -Vaughan marvelled at my prophecy of his marriage!—as if it were not -as easy to foretell as that two and two inevitably make four! Given -the characters of people in the same way that you give figures, and -you are certain to arrive at a sum-total of them in time. How simple -the process of calculation as to Vaughan’s matrimonial prospects! Here -are the set of numerals I employed: Two nights ago I heard Lord -Melthorpe say he meant to marry his cousin Fred to Miss Chester, -daughter of Jabez Chester of New York. Miss Chester herself entered -the room a few minutes later on, and I saw the sort of young woman she -was. To-night at the theatre I see her again;—in an opposite box, -well back in shadow, I perceive Lord Melthorpe. Young Vaughan, whose -character I know to be of such weakness that it can be moulded -whichever way a stronger will turns it, sits close behind me; and I -proceed to make the little sum-total. Given Lord Melthorpe, with a -determination that resembles the obstinacy of a pig rather than of a -man; Frederick Vaughan, with no determination at all; and the little -Chester girl, with her heart set on an English title, even though it -only be that of a baronet, and the marriage is certain. What was -<i>un</i>certain was the possibility of their all meeting to-night; but -they were all there, and I counted that possibility as the fraction -over,—there is always a fraction over in character-sums; it stands as -Providence or Fate, and must always be allowed for. I chanced it, and -won. I always do win in these things,—these ridiculous trifles of -calculation, which are actually accepted as prophetic utterances by -people who never will think out anything for themselves. Good heavens! -what a monster-burden of crass ignorance and wilful stupidity this -poor planet has groaned under ever since it was hurled into space! -Immense!—incalculable! And for what purpose? For what progress? For -what end?” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped a moment; he had walked from the Strand up through -Piccadilly, and was now close to Hyde Park. Taking out his watch, he -glanced at the time—it was close upon midnight. All at once he was -struck fiercely from behind, and the watch he held was snatched from -his hand by a man who had no sooner committed the theft than he -uttered a loud cry, and remained inert and motionless. El-Râmi turned -quietly round and surveyed him. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, my friend?” he inquired blandly—“What did you do that for?” -</p> - -<p> -The fellow stared about him vaguely, but seemed unable to answer,—his -arm was stiffly outstretched, and the watch was clutched fast within -his palm. -</p> - -<p> -“You had better give that little piece of property back to me,” went -on El-Râmi, coldly smiling,—and, stepping close up to his assailant, -he undid the closed fingers one by one, and, removing the watch, -restored it to his own pocket. The thief’s arm at the same moment fell -limply at his side; but he remained where he was, trembling violently -as though seized with a sudden ague-fit. -</p> - -<p> -“You would find it an inconvenient thing to have about you, I assure -you. Stolen goods are always more or less of a bore, I believe. You -seem rather discomposed? Ah! you have had a little shock, that’s all. -You’ve heard of torpedoes, I dare say? Well, in this scientific age of -ours, there are human torpedoes going about; and I am one of them. It -is necessary to be careful whom you touch nowadays,—it really is, you -know! You will be better presently—take time!” -</p> - -<p> -He spoke banteringly, observing the thief meanwhile with the most -curious air, as though he were some peculiar specimen of beetle or -frog. The wretched man’s features worked convulsively, and he made a -gesture of appeal: -</p> - -<p> -“You won’t ’ave me took up?” he muttered hoarsely, “I’m starvin’!” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no!” said El-Râmi persuasively—“you are nothing of the sort. Do -not tell lies, my friend; that is a great mistake—as great a mistake -as thieving. Both things, as you practise them, will put you to no end -of trouble,—and to avoid trouble is the chief aim of modern life. You -are not starving—you are as plump as a rabbit,”—and, with a -dexterous touch, he threw up the man’s loose shirt-sleeve, and -displayed the full, firm flesh of the strong and sinewy arm beneath. -“You have had more meat in you to-day than I can manage in a week; you -will do very well. You are a professional thief,—a sort of—lawyer, -shall we say? Only, instead of protesting the right you have to live, -politely by means of documents and red tape, you assert it roughly by -stealing a watch. It’s very frank conduct,—but it is not civil; and, -in the present state of ethics, it doesn’t pay—it really doesn’t. I’m -afraid I’m boring you! You feel better? Then—good evening!” -</p> - -<p> -He was about to resume his walk, when the now recovered rough took a -hasty step towards him. -</p> - -<p> -“I wanted to knock ye down!” he began. -</p> - -<p> -“I know you did,”—returned El-Râmi composedly. “Well—would you like -to try again?” -</p> - -<p> -The man stared at him, half in amazement, half in fear. -</p> - -<p> -“Ye see,” he went on, “ye pulled out yer watch, and it was all jools -and sparkles——” -</p> - -<p> -“And it was a glittering temptation”—finished El-Râmi. “I see! I had -no business to pull it out; I grant it; but, being pulled out, you had -no business to want it. We were both wrong; let us both endeavour to -be wiser in future. Good-night!” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I’m blowed if yer not a rum un, and an orful un!” ejaculated -the man, who had certainly received a fright, and was still nervous -from the effects of it. “Blowed if he ain’t the rummest card!” -</p> - -<p> -But the “rummest card” heard none of these observations. He crossed -the road, and went on his way serenely, taking up the thread of his -interrupted musings as though nothing had occurred. -</p> - -<p> -“Fools—fools all!” he murmured. “Thieves steal, murderers slay, -labourers toil, and all men and women lust and live and die—to what -purpose? For what progress? For what end? Destruction or new life? -Heaven or hell? Wisdom or caprice? Kindness or cruelty? God or the -Devil? Which? If I knew that I should be wise,—but <i>till</i> I know, I -am but a fool also,—a fool among fools, fooled by a Fate whose secret -I mean to discover and conquer—and defy!” -</p> - -<p> -He paused,—and, drawing a long, deep breath, raised his eyes to the -stars once more. His lips moved as though he repeated inwardly some -vow or prayer, then he proceeded at a quicker pace, and stopped no -more till he reached his destination, which was a small, quiet, and -unfashionable square off Sloane Street. Here he made his way to an -unpretentious-looking little house, semi-detached, and one of a row of -similar buildings; the only particularly distinctive mark about it -being a heavy and massively-carved ancient oaken door, which opened -easily at the turn of his latch-key, and closed after him without the -slightest sound as he entered. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch03"> -III. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">A dim</span> red light burned in the narrow hall, just sufficient to enable -him to see the wooden peg on which he was accustomed to hang his hat -and overcoat,—and as soon as he had divested himself of his outdoor -garb he extinguished even that faint glimmer of radiance. Opening a -side-door, he entered his own room—a picturesque apartment running -from east to west, the full length of the house. From its appearance -it had evidently once served as drawing-room and dining-room, with -folding-doors between; but the folding-doors had been dispensed with, -and the place they had occupied was now draped with heavy amber silk. -This silk seemed to be of some peculiar and costly make, for it -sparkled with iridescent gleams of silver like diamond-dust when -El-Râmi turned on the electric burner, which, in the form of a large -flower, depended from the ceiling by quaintly-worked silver chains, -and was connected by a fine wire with a shaded reading-lamp on the -table. There was not much of either beauty or value in the room,—yet, -without being at all luxurious, it suggested luxury. The few chairs -were of the most ordinary make, all save one, which was of finely -carved ebony, and was piled with silk cushions of amber and red,—the -table was of plain painted deal, covered with a dark woollen cloth -worked in and out with threads of gold,—there were a few geometrical -instruments about,—a large pair of globes,—a rack on the wall -stocked with weapons for the art of fence,—and one large bookcase -full of books. An ebony-cased pianette occupied one corner,—and on a -small side-table stood a heavily-made oaken chest, brass-bound and -double-locked. The furniture was completed by a plain camp-bedstead -such as soldiers use, which at the present moment was partly folded up -and almost hidden from view by a rough bear-skin thrown carelessly -across it. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi sat down in the big ebony chair and looked at a pile of -letters lying on his writing-table. They were from all sorts of -persons,—princes, statesmen, diplomats, financiers, and artists in -all the professions,—he recognised the handwriting on some of the -envelopes, and his brows contracted in a frown as he tossed them aside -still unopened. -</p> - -<p> -“They must wait,” he said half aloud. “Curious that it is impossible -for a man to be original without attracting around him a set of -unoriginal minds, as though he were a honey-pot and they the flies! -Who would believe that I, poor in worldly goods, and living in more or -less obscurity, should, without any wish of my own, be in touch with -kings?—should know the last new policy of governments before it is -made ripe for public declaration?—should hold the secrets of ‘my -lord’ and ‘my lady’ apart from each other’s cognisance, and be able to -amuse myself with their little ridiculous matrimonial differences, as -though they were puppets playing their parts for use at a marionette -show? I do not ask these people to confide in me,—I do not want them -to seek me out,—and yet the cry is, ‘still they come!’—and the -attributes of my own nature are such that, like a magnet, I attract, -and so am never left in peace. Yet perhaps it is well it should be -thus,—I need the external distraction,—otherwise my mind would be -too much like a bent bow,—fixed on the one centre,—the Great -Secret,—and its powers might fail me at the last. But no!—failure is -impossible now. Steeled against love,—hate,—and all the merely -earthly passions of mankind as I am,—I must succeed—and I will!” -</p> - -<p> -He leaned his head on one hand, and seemed to suddenly concentrate his -thoughts on one particular subject,—his eyes dilated and grew luridly -brilliant as though sparks of fire burnt behind them. He had not sat -thus for more than a couple of minutes, when the door opened gently, -and a beautiful youth, clad in a loose white tunic and vest of Eastern -fashion, made his appearance, and standing silently on the threshold -seemed to wait for some command. -</p> - -<p> -“So, Féraz! you heard my summons?” said El-Râmi gently. -</p> - -<p> -“I heard my brother speak,”—responded Féraz in a low melodious voice -that had a singularly dreamy far-away tone within it—“Through a wall -of cloud and silence his beloved accents fell like music on my -ears;—he called me and I came.” -</p> - -<p> -And, sighing lightly, he folded his arms cross-wise on his breast and -stood erect and immovable, looking like some fine statue just endowed -by magic with the flush of life. He resembled El-Râmi in features, -but was fairer-skinned,—his eyes were softer and more femininely -lovely,—his hair, black as night, clustered in thick curls over his -brow, and his figure, straight as a young palm-tree, was a perfect -model of strength united with grace. But just now he had a strangely -absorbed air,—his eyes, though they were intently fixed on El-Râmi’s -face, looked like the eyes of a sleep-walker, so dreamy were they -while wide-open,—and as he spoke he smiled vaguely as one who hears -delicious singing afar off. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi studied him intently for a minute or two,—then, removing his -gaze, pressed a small silver hand-bell at his side. It rang sharply -out on the silence. -</p> - -<p> -“Féraz!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz started,—rubbed his eyes,—glanced about him, and then sprang -towards his brother with quite a new expression,—one of grace, -eagerness, and animation, that intensified his beauty and made him -still more worthy the admiration of a painter or a sculptor. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi! At last! How late you are! I waited for you long—and then -I slept. I am sorry! But you called me in the usual way, I -suppose?—and I did not fail you? Ah no! I should come to you if I -were dead!” -</p> - -<p> -He dropped on one knee, and raised El-Râmi’s hand caressingly to his -lips. -</p> - -<p> -“Where have you been all the evening?” he went on. “I have missed you -greatly—the house is so silent.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi touched his clustering curls tenderly. -</p> - -<p> -“You could have made music in it with your lute and voice, Féraz, had -you chosen,” he said. “As for me, I went to see <i>Hamlet</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, why did you go?” demanded Féraz impetuously. “<i>I</i> would not see -it—no! not for worlds! Such poetry must needs be spoilt by men’s -mouthing of it,—it is better to read it, to think it, to feel -it,—and so one actually <i>sees</i> it,—best.” -</p> - -<p> -“You talk like a poet,”—said El-Râmi indulgently. “You are not much -more than a boy, and you think the thoughts of youth. Have you any -supper ready for me?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz smiled and sprang up, left the room, and returned in a few -minutes with a daintily-arranged tray of refreshments, which he set -before his brother with all the respect and humility of a well-trained -domestic in attendance on his master. -</p> - -<p> -“You have supped?” El-Râmi asked, as he poured out wine from the -delicately-shaped Italian flask beside him. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz nodded. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. Zaroba supped with me. But she was cross to-night—she had -nothing to say.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled. “That is unusual!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz went on. “There have been many people here,—they all wanted to -see you. They have left their cards. Some of them asked me my name and -who I was. I said I was your servant—but they would not believe me. -There were great folks among them—they came in big carriages with -prancing horses. Have you seen their names?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not I.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, you are so indifferent,” said Féraz gaily,—he had no quite lost -his dreamy and abstracted look, and talked on in an eager boyish way -that suited his years,—he was barely twenty. “You are so bent on -great thoughts that you cannot see little things, But these dukes and -earls who come to visit you do not consider themselves little,—not -they!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yet many of them are the least among little men,” said El-Râmi with -a touch of scorn in his mellow accents. “Dowered with great historic -names which they almost despise, they do their best to drag the memory -of their ancient lineage into dishonour by vulgar passions, low -tastes, and a scorn as well as lack of true intelligence. Let us not -talk of them. The English aristocracy was once a magnificent tree, but -its broad boughs are fallen,—lopped off and turned into saleable -timber,—and there is but a decaying stump of it left. And so Zaroba -said nothing to you to-night?” -</p> - -<p> -“Scarce a word. She was very sullen. She bade me tell you all was -well,—that is her usual formula. I do not understand it;—what is it -that should be well or ill? You never explain your mystery!” -</p> - -<p> -He smiled, but there was a vivid curiosity in his fine eyes,—he -looked as if he would have asked more had he dared to do so. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi evaded his questioning glance. “Speak of yourself,” he said. -“Did you wander at all into your Dreamland to-day?” -</p> - -<p> -“I was there when you called me,” replied Féraz quickly. “I saw my -home,—its trees and flowers,—I listened to the ripple of its -fountains and streams. It is harvest-time there, do you know? I heard -the reapers singing as they carried home the sheaves.” -</p> - -<p> -His brother surveyed him with a fixed and wondering scrutiny. -</p> - -<p> -“How absolute you are in your faith!” he said half enviously. “You -<i>think</i> it is your home,—but it is only an idea after all,—an idea, -born of a vision.” -</p> - -<p> -“Does a mere visionary idea engender love and longing?” exclaimed -Féraz impetuously. “Oh no, El-Râmi,—it cannot do so! I <i>know</i> the -land I see so often in what you call a ‘dream,’—its mountains are -familiar to me,—its people are my people; yes!—I am remembered -there, and so are you,—we dwelt there once,—we shall dwell there -again. It is your home as well as mine,—that bright and far-off star -where there is no death but only sleep,—why were we exiled from our -happiness, El-Râmi? Can your wisdom tell?” -</p> - -<p> -“I know nothing of what you say,” returned El-Râmi brusquely. “As I -told you, you talk like a poet,—harsher men than I would add, like a -madman. You imagine you were born or came into being in a different -planet from this,—that you lived there,—that you were exiled from -thence by some mysterious doom, and were condemned to pass into human -existence here;—well, I repeat, Féraz,—this is your own fancy,—the -result of the strange double life you lead, which is not by my will or -teaching. I believe only in what can be proved—and this that you tell -me is beyond all proof.” -</p> - -<p> -“And yet,” said Féraz meditatively,—“though I cannot reason it out, -I am sure of what I feel. My ‘dream’ is more life-like than life -itself,—and as for my beloved people yonder, I tell you I have heard -them singing the harvest-home.” -</p> - -<p> -And with a quick soft step he went to the piano, opened it, and began -to play. El-Râmi leaned back in his chair mute and absorbed,—did -ever common keyed instrument give forth such enchanting sounds? Was -ever written music known that could, when performed, utter such divine -and dulcet eloquence? There was nothing earthly in the tune, it seemed -to glide from under the player’s fingers like a caress upon the -air,—and an involuntary sigh broke from El-Râmi’s lips as he -listened. Féraz heard that sigh, and turned round smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Is there not something familiar in the strain?” he asked. “Do you not -see them all, so fair and light and lithe of limb, coming over the -fields homewards as the red Ring burns low in the western sky? -Surely—surely you remember?” -</p> - -<p> -A slight shudder shook El-Râmi’s frame,—he pressed his hands over -his eyes, and seemed to collect himself by a strong effort,—then, -walking over to the piano, he took his young brother’s hands from the -keys and held them for a moment against his breast. -</p> - -<p> -“Keep your illusions”—he said in a low voice that trembled slightly. -“Keep them,—and your faith,—together. It is for you to dream, and -for me to prove. Mine is the hardest lot. There may be truth in your -dreams,—there may be deception in my proofs—Heaven only knows! Were -you not of my own blood, and dearer to me than most human things, I -should, like every scientist worthy of the name, strive to break off -your spiritual pinions and make of you a mere earth-grub even as most -of us are made,—but I cannot do it,—I have not the heart to do -it,—and if I had the heart”—he paused a moment,—then went on -slowly—“I have not the power. Good-night!” -</p> - -<p> -He left the room abruptly without another word or look,—and the -beautiful young Féraz gazed after his retreating figure doubtfully -and with something of wondering regret. Was it worth while, he -thought, to be so wise, if wisdom made one at times so sad?—was it -well to sacrifice Faith for Fact, when Faith was so warm and Fact so -cold? Was it better to be a dreamer of things possible, or a -worker-out of things positive? And how much was positive after all? -and how much possible? He balanced the question lightly with -himself,—it was like a discord in the music of his mind, and -disturbed his peace. He soon dismissed the jarring thought, however, -and, closing the piano, glanced round the room to make sure that -nothing more was required for his brother’s service or comfort that -night, and then he went away to resume his interrupted -slumbers,—perchance to take up the chorus of his “people” singing in -what he deemed his native star. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch04"> -IV. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">El-Râmi</span> meanwhile slowly ascended the stairs to the first floor, -and there on the narrow landing paused, listening. There was not a -sound in the house,—the delicious music of the strange “harvest-song” -had ceased, though to El-Râmi’s ears there still seemed to be a throb -of its melody in the air, like perfume left from the carrying by of -flowers. And with this vague impression upon him he -listened,—listened as it were to the deep silence; and as he stood in -this attentive attitude, his eyes rested on a closed door opposite to -him,—a door which might, if taken off its hinges and exhibited at -some museum, have carried away the palm for perfection in -panel-painting. It was so designed as to resemble a fine trellis-work, -hung with pale clambering roses and purple passion-flowers,—on the -upper half among the blossoms sat a meditative cupid, pressing a bud -against his pouting lips, while below him, stretched in full-length -desolation on a bent bough, his twin brother wept childishly over the -piteous fate of a butterfly that lay dead in his curled pink palm. -El-Râmi stared so long and persistently at the pretty picture that it -might have been imagined he was looking at it for the first time and -was absorbed in admiration, but truth to tell he scarcely saw it. His -thoughts were penetrating beyond all painted semblances of -beauty,—and,—as in the case of his young brother Féraz,—those -thoughts were speedily answered. A key turned in the lock,—the door -opened, and a tall old woman, bronze-skinned, black-eyed, withered, -uncomely yet imposing of aspect, stood in the aperture. -</p> - -<p> -“Enter, El-Râmi!” she said in a low yet harsh voice—“The hour is -late,—but when did ever the lateness of hours change or deter your -sovereign will! Yet, truly as God liveth, it is hard that I should -seldom be permitted to pass a night in peace!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled indifferently, but made no reply, as it was useless to -answer Zaroba. She was stone-deaf, and therefore not in a condition to -be argued with. She preceded him into a small ante-room, provided with -no other furniture than a table and chair;—one entire side of the -wall, however, was hung with a magnificent curtain of purple velvet -bordered in gold. On the table were a slate and pencil, and these -implements El-Râmi at once drew towards him. -</p> - -<p> -“Has there been any change to-day?” he wrote. -</p> - -<p> -Zaroba read the words. -</p> - -<p> -“None,” she replied. -</p> - -<p> -“She has not moved?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not a finger.” -</p> - -<p> -He paused, pencil in hand,—then he wrote— -</p> - -<p> -“You are ill-tempered. You have your dark humour upon you.” -</p> - -<p> -Zaroba’s eyes flashed, and she threw up her skinny hands with a -wrathful gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“Dark humour!” she cried in accents that were almost shrill—“Ay!—and -if it be so, El-Râmi, what is my humour to you? Am I anything more to -you than a cipher,—a mere slave? What have the thoughts of a foolish -woman, bent with years and close to the dark gateways of the tomb, to -do with one who deems himself all wisdom? What are the feelings of a -wretched perishable piece of flesh and blood to a self-centred god and -opponent of Nature like El-Râmi-Zarânos?” She laughed bitterly. “Pay -no heed to me, great Master of the Fates invisible!—superb controller -of the thoughts of men!—pay no heed to Zaroba’s ‘dark humours,’ as -you call them. Zaroba has no wings to soar with—she is old and -feeble, and aches at the heart with a burden of unshed tears,—she -would fain have been content with this low earth whereon to tread in -safety,—she would fain have been happy with common joys,—but these -are debarred her, and her lot is like that of many a better woman,—to -sit solitary among the ashes of dead days and know herself desolate!” -</p> - -<p> -She dropped her arms as suddenly as she had raised them. El-Râmi -surveyed her with a touch of derision, and wrote again on the slate: -</p> - -<p> -“I thought you loved your charge?” -</p> - -<p> -Zaroba read, and drew herself up proudly, looking almost as dignified -as El-Râmi himself. -</p> - -<p> -“Does one love a statue?” she demanded. “Shall I caress a picture? -Shall I rain tears or kisses over the mere semblance of a life that -does not live,—shall I fondle hands that never return my clasp? Love! -Love is in my heart—yes! like a shut-up fire in a tomb,—but you hold -the key, El-Râmi, and the flame dies for want of air.” -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders, and, putting the pencil aside, wrote no -more. Moving towards the velvet curtain that draped the one side of -the room he made an imperious sign. Zaroba, obeying the gesture -mechanically and at once, drew a small pulley, by means of which the -rich soft folds of stuff parted noiselessly asunder, displaying such a -wonderful interior of luxury and loveliness as seemed for the moment -almost unreal. The apartment opened to view was lofty and perfectly -circular in shape, and was hung from top to bottom with silken -hangings of royal purple embroidered all over with curious arabesque -patterns in gold. The same rich material was caught up from the edges -of the ceiling to the centre, like the drapery of a pavilion or tent, -and was there festooned with golden fringes and tassels. From out the -midst of this warm mass of glistening colour swung a gold lamp which -shed its light through amber-hued crystal,—while the floor below was -carpeted with the thickest velvet pile, the design being pale purple -pansies on a darker ground of the same almost neutral tint. A specimen -of everything beautiful, rare, and costly seemed to have found its way -into this one room, from the exquisitely-wrought ivory figure of a -Psyche on her pedestal, to the tall vase of Venetian crystal which -held lightly up to view dozens of magnificent roses that seemed born -of full midsummer, though as yet, in the capricious English climate, -it was scarcely spring. And all the beauty, all the grace, all the -evidences of perfect taste, art, care, and forethought were gathered -together round one centre,—one unseeing, unresponsive centre,—the -figure of a sleeping girl. Pillowed on a raised couch such as might -have served a queen for costliness, she lay fast bound in slumber,—a -matchless piece of loveliness,—stirless as marble,—wondrous as the -ideal of a poet’s dream. Her delicate form was draped loosely in a -robe of purest white, arranged so as to suggest rather than conceal -its exquisite outline,—a silk coverlet was thrown lightly across her -feet, and her head rested on cushions of the softest, snowiest satin. -Her exceedingly small white hands were crossed upon her breast over a -curious jewel,—a sort of giant ruby cut in the shape of a star, which -scintillated with a thousand sparkles in the light, and coloured the -under-tips of her fingers with a hue like wine, and her hair, which -was of extraordinary length and beauty, almost clothed her body down -to the knee, as with a mantle of shimmering gold. To say merely that -she was lovely would scarcely describe her,—for the loveliness that -is generally understood as such was here so entirely surpassed and -intensified that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to express -its charm. Her face had the usual attributes of what might be deemed -perfection,—that is, the lines were purely oval,—the features -delicate, the skin most transparently fair, the lips a dewy red, and -the fringes of the closed eyes were long, dark, and delicately -upcurled;—but this was not all. There was something else,—something -quite undefinable, that gave a singular glow and radiance to the whole -countenance, and suggested the burning of a light through -alabaster,—a creeping of some subtle fire through the veins which -made the fair body seem the mere reflection of some greater fairness -within. If those eyes were to open, one thought, how wonderful their -lustre must needs be!—if that perfect figure rose up and moved, what -a harmony would walk the world in maiden shape!—and yet,—watching -that hushed repose, that scarcely perceptible breathing, it seemed -more than certain that she would never rise,—never tread earthly soil -in common with earth’s creatures,—never be more than what she -seemed,—a human flower, gathered and set apart—for whom? For God’s -love? Or Man’s pleasure? Either, neither, or both? -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi entered the rich apartment, followed by Zaroba, and stood by -the couch for some minutes in silence. Whatever his thoughts were, his -face gave no clue to them,—his features being as impassive as though -cast in bronze. Zaroba watched him curiously, her wrinkled visage -expressive of some strongly-suppressed passion. The sleeping girl -stirred and smiled in her sleep,—a smile that brightened her -countenance as much as if a sudden glory had circled it with a halo. -</p> - -<p> -“Ay, she lives for you!” said Zaroba. “And she grows fairer every day. -She is the sun and you the snow. But the snow is bound to melt in due -season,—and even you, El-Râmi-Zarânos, will hardly baffle the laws -of Nature!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi turned upon her with a fierce mute gesture that had something -of the terrible in it,—she shrank from the cold glance of his intense -eyes, and in obedience to an imperative wave of his hand moved away to -a farther corner of the room, where, crouching down upon the floor, -she took up a quaint implement of work, a carved triangular frame of -ebony, with which she busied herself, drawing glittering threads in -and out of it with marvellous speed and dexterity. She made a weird -picture there, squatted on the ground in her yellow cotton draperies, -her rough gray hair gleaming like spun silk in the light, and the -shining threadwork in her withered hands. El-Râmi looked at her -sitting thus, and was suddenly moved with compassion—she was old and -sad,—poor Zaroba! He went up to her where she crouched, and stood -above her, his ardent fiery eyes seeming to gather all their wonderful -lustre into one long, earnest, and pitiful regard. Her work fell from -her hands, and as she met that burning gaze a vague smile parted her -lips,—her frowning features smoothed themselves into an expression of -mingled placidity and peace. -</p> - -<p> -“Desolate Zaroba!” said El-Râmi, slowly lifting his hands. “Widowed -and solitary soul! Deaf to the outer noises of the world, let the ears -of thy spirit be open to my voice—and hear thou all the music of the -past! Lo, the bygone years return to thee and picture themselves -afresh upon thy tired brain!—again thou dost listen to the voices of -thy children at play,—the wild Arabian desert spreads out before thee -in the sun like a sea of gold,—the tall palms lift themselves against -the burning sky—the tent is pitched by the cool spring of fresh -water,—and thy savage mate, wearied out with long travel, sleeps, -pillowed on thy breast. Thou art young again, Zaroba!—young, fair, -and beloved!—be happy so! Dream and rest!” -</p> - -<p> -As he spoke he took the aged woman’s unresisting hands and laid her -gently, gently, by gradual degrees down in a recumbent posture, and -placing a cushion under her head watched her for a few seconds. -</p> - -<p> -“By Heaven!” he muttered, as he heard her regular breathing and noted -the perfectly composed expression of her face. “Are dreams after all -the only certain joys of life? A poet’s fancies,—a painter’s -visions—the cloud-castles of a boy’s imaginings—all dreams!—and -only such dreamers can be called happy. Neither Fate nor Fortune can -destroy their pleasure,—they make sport of kings and hold great -nations as the merest toys of thought—oh sublime audacity of Vision! -Would I could dream so!—or rather, would I could prove my dreams not -dreams at all, but the reflections of the absolute Real! Hamlet again! -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i11">“‘To die—to sleep;—</p> -<p class="i0">To sleep!—perchance to dream; ay, there’s the rub!’</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Imagine it!—to die and <i>dream</i> of Heaven—or Hell—and all the while -if there should be no reality in either!” -</p> - -<p> -With one more glance at the now soundly slumbering Zaroba, he went -back to the couch, and gazed long and earnestly at the exquisite -maiden there reclined,—then bending over her, he took her small fair -left hand in his own, pressing his fingers hard round the delicate -wrist. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith!—Lilith!” he said in low, yet commanding accents. -“Lilith!—Speak to me! I am here!” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch05"> -V. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Deep</span> silence followed his invocation,—a silence he seemed to expect -and be prepared for. Looking at a silver timepiece on a bracket above -the couch, he mentally counted slowly a hundred beats,—then pressing -the fragile wrist he held still more firmly between his fingers, he -touched with his other hand the girl’s brow, just above her closed -eyes. A faint quiver ran through the delicate body,—he quickly drew -back and spoke again. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! Where are you?” -</p> - -<p> -The sweet lips parted, and a voice soft as whispered music responded— -</p> - -<p> -“I am here!” -</p> - -<p> -“Is all well with you?” -</p> - -<p> -“All is well!” -</p> - -<p> -And a smile irradiated the fair face with such a light as to suggest -that the eyes must have opened,—but no!—they were fast shut. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi resumed his strange interrogation. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! What do you see?” -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment’s pause,—then came the slow response— -</p> - -<p> -“Many things,—things beautiful and wonderful. But you are not among -them. I hear your voice and I obey it, but I cannot see you—I have -never seen you.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi sighed, and pressed more closely the soft small hand within -his own. -</p> - -<p> -“Where have you been?” -</p> - -<p> -“Where my pleasure led me”—came the answer in a sleepy yet joyous -tone—“My pleasure and—your will.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi started, but immediately controlled himself, for Lilith -stirred and threw her other arm indolently behind her head, leaving -the great ruby on her breast flashingly exposed to view. -</p> - -<p> -“Away, away, far, far away!” she said, and her accents sounded like -subdued singing—“Beyond,—in those regions whither I was -sent—beyond——” her voice stopped and trailed off into drowsy -murmurings—“beyond—Sirius—I saw——” -</p> - -<p> -She ceased, and smiled—some happy thought seemed to have rendered her -mute. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi waited a moment, then took up her broken speech. -</p> - -<p> -“Far beyond Sirius you saw—what?” -</p> - -<p> -Moving, she pillowed her cheek upon her hand, and turned more fully -round towards him. -</p> - -<p> -“I saw a bright new world,”—she said, now speaking quite clearly and -connectedly—“A royal world of worlds; an undiscovered Star. There -were giant oceans in it,—the noise of many waters was heard -throughout the land,—and there were great cities marvellously built -upon the sea. I saw their pinnacles of white and gold—spires of -coral, and gates that were studded with pearl,—flags waved and music -sounded, and two great Suns gave double light from heaven. I saw many -thousands of people—they were beautiful and happy—they sang and -danced and gave thanks in the everlasting sunshine, and knelt in -crowds upon their wide and fruitful fields to thank the Giver of life -immortal.” -</p> - -<p> -“Life immortal!” repeated El-Râmi,—“Do not these people die, even as -we?” -</p> - -<p> -A pained look, as of wonder or regret, knitted the girl’s fair brows. -</p> - -<p> -“There is no death—neither here nor there”—she said steadily—“I -have told you this so often, yet you will not believe. Always you bid -me seek for death,—I have looked, but cannot find it.” -</p> - -<p> -She sighed, and El-Râmi echoed the sigh. -</p> - -<p> -“I wish”—and her accents sounded plaintively—“I wish that I could -see you! There is some cloud between us. I hear your voice and I obey -it, but I cannot see who it is that calls me.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi paid no heed to these dove-like murmurings,—moreover, he -seemed to have no eyes for the wondrous beauty of the creature who lay -thus tranced and in his power,—set on his one object, the attainment -of a supernatural knowledge, he looked as pitiless and impervious to -all charm as any Grand Inquisitor of old Spain. -</p> - -<p> -“Speak of yourself and not of me”—he said authoritatively, “How can -you say there is no death?” -</p> - -<p> -“I speak truth. There is none.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not even here?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not anywhere.” -</p> - -<p> -“O daughter of vision, where are the eyes of your spirit?” demanded -El-Râmi angrily—“Search again and see! Why should all Nature arm -itself against Death if there be no death?” -</p> - -<p> -“You are harsh,”—said Lilith sorrowfully—“Should I tell you what is -not true? If I would, I cannot. There is no death—there is only -change. Beyond Sirius, they sleep.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi waited; but she had paused again. -</p> - -<p> -“Go on”—he said—“They sleep—why and when?” -</p> - -<p> -“When they are weary”—responded Lilith. “When all is done that they -can do, and when they need rest, they sleep, and in their sleep they -change;—the change is——” -</p> - -<p> -She ceased. -</p> - -<p> -“The change is death,” said El-Râmi positively,—“for death is -everywhere.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not so!” replied Lilith quickly, and in a ringing tone of -clarion-like sweetness. “The change is life,—for Life is everywhere!” -</p> - -<p> -There ensued a silence. The girl turned away, and, bringing her hand -slowly down from behind her head, laid it again upon her breast over -the burning ruby gem. El-Râmi bent above her closely. -</p> - -<p> -“You are dreaming, Lilith,”—he said as though he would force her to -own something against her will. “You speak unwisely and at random.” -</p> - -<p> -Still silence. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith!—Lilith!” he called. -</p> - -<p> -No answer;—only the lovely tints of her complexion, the smile on her -lips, and the tranquil heaving of her rounded bosom indicated that she -lived. -</p> - -<p> -“Gone!” and El-Râmi’s brow clouded; he laid back the little hand he -held in its former position and looked at the girl long and -steadily—“And so firm in her assertion!—as foolish an assertion as -any of the fancies of Féraz. No death? Nay—as well say no life. She -has not fathomed the secret of our passing hence; no, not though her -flight has outreached the realm of Sirius. -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“‘But that the dread of something after death,</p> -<p class="i0">The undiscovered country from whose bourne</p> -<p class="i0">No traveller returns, puzzles the will.’</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Ay, puzzles the will and confounds it! But must I be baffled then?—or -is it my own fault that <i>I cannot believe</i>? Is it truly her spirit -that speaks to me?—or is it my own brain acting upon hers in a state -of trance? If it be the latter, why should she declare things that I -never dream of, and which my reason does not accept as possible? And -if it is indeed her Soul, or the ethereal Essence of her that thus -soars at periodic intervals of liberty into the Unseen, how is it that -she never comprehends Death or Pain? Is her vision limited only to -behold harmonious systems moving to a sound of joy?” -</p> - -<p> -And, seized by a sudden resolution, he caught both the hands of the -tranced girl and held them in his own, the while he fixed his eyes -upon her quiet face with a glance that seemed to shoot forth flame. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! Lilith! By the force of my will and mastery over thy life, I -bid thee return to me! O flitting spirit, ever bent on errands of -pleasure, reveal to me the secrets of pain! Come back, Lilith! I call -thee—come!” -</p> - -<p> -A violent shudder shook the beautiful reposeful figure,—the smile -faded from her lips, and she heaved a profound sigh. -</p> - -<p> -“I am here!” -</p> - -<p> -“Listen to my bidding!” said El-Râmi, in measured accents that -sounded almost cruel. “As you have soared to heights ineffable, even -so descend to lowest depths of desolation! Understand and seek out -sorrow,—pierce to the root of suffering, explain the cause of -unavailing agony! These things exist. Here in this planet of which you -know nothing save my voice,—here, if nowhere else in the wide -Universe, we gain our bread with bitterness and drink our wine with -tears. Solve me the mystery of pain,—of injustice,—of an innocent -child’s anguish on its death-bed,—ay! though you tell me there is no -death!—of a good man’s ruin,—of an evil woman’s triumph,—of -despair,—of self-slaughter,—of all the horrors upon horrors piled, -which make up this world’s present life. Listen, O too ecstatic and -believing Spirit!—we have a legend here that a God lives—a wise -all-loving God,—and He, this wise and loving one, has out of His -great bounty invented for the torture of His creatures,—<span class="sc">Hell</span>! Find -out this Hell, Lilith!—Prove it!—bring the plan of its existence -back to me. Go,—bring me news of devils,—and suffer, if spirits -<i>can</i> suffer, in the unmitigated sufferings of others! Take my command -and go hence, find out God’s Hell!—so shall we afterwards know the -worth of Heaven!” -</p> - -<p> -He spoke rapidly,—impetuously,—passionately;—and now he allowed the -girl’s hands to fall suddenly from his clasp. She moaned a -little,—and, instead of folding them one over the other as before, -raised them palm to palm in an attitude of prayer. The colour faded -entirely from her face,—but an expression of the calmest, grandest -wisdom, serenity, and compassion came over her features as of a saint -prepared for martyrdom. Her breathing grew fainter and fainter till it -was scarcely perceptible,—and her lips parted in a short sobbing -sigh,—then they moved and whispered something. El-Râmi stooped over -her more closely. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” he asked eagerly—“what did you say?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing, ... only ... farewell!” and the faint tone stirred the -silence like the last sad echo of a song—“And yet ... once more ... -farewell!” -</p> - -<p> -He drew back, and observed her intently. She now looked like a -recumbent statue, with those upraised hands of hers so white and small -and delicate,—and El-Râmi remembered that he must keep the machine -of the Body living, if he desired to receive through its medium the -messages of the Spirit. Taking a small phial from his breast, together -with the necessary surgeon’s instrument used for such purposes, he -pricked the rounded arm nearest to him, and carefully injected into -the veins a small quantity of a strange sparkling fluid which gave out -a curiously sweet and pungent odour;—as he did this, the lifted hands -fell gently into their original position, crossed over the ruby star. -The breathing grew steadier and lighter,—the lips took fresh -colour,—and El-Râmi watched the effect with absorbed interest and -attention. -</p> - -<p> -“One might surely preserve her body so for ever,” he mused half aloud. -“The tissues renewed,—the blood reorganised,—the whole system -completely nourished with absolute purity; and not a morsel of what is -considered food, which contains so much organic mischief, allowed to -enter that exquisitely beautiful mechanism, which exhales all waste -upon the air through the pores of the skin as naturally as a flower -exhales perfume through its leaves. A wonderful discovery!—if all men -knew it, would not they deem themselves truly immortal, even here? But -the trial is not over yet,—the experiment is not perfect. Six years -has she lived thus, but who can say whether indeed Death has no power -over her? In those six years she has changed,—she has grown from -childhood to womanhood,—does not change imply age?—and age suggest -death, in spite of all science? O inexorable Death!—I will pluck its -secret out if I die in the effort!” -</p> - -<p> -He turned away from the couch,—then seemed struck by a new idea. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>If</i> I die, did I say? But <i>can</i> I die? Is her Spirit right? Is my -reasoning wrong? Is there no pause anywhere?—no cessation of -thought?—no end to the insatiability of ambition? Must we plan and -work and live—<span class="sc">For Ever</span>?” -</p> - -<p> -A shudder ran through him,—the notion of his own perpetuity appalled -him. Passing a long mirror framed in antique silver, he caught sight -of himself in it,—his dark handsome face, rendered darker by the -contrasting whiteness of his hair,—his full black eyes,—his fine but -disdainful mouth,—all looked back at him with the scornful reflex of -his own scornful regard. -</p> - -<p> -He laughed a little bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -“There you are, El-Râmi-Zarânos!” he murmured half aloud. “Scoffer -and scientist,—master of a few common magnetic secrets such as the -priests of ancient Egypt made sport of, though in these modern days of -‘culture’ they are sufficient to make most men your tools! What now? -Is there no rest for the inner calculations of your mind? Plan and -work and live for ever? Well, why not? Could I fathom the secrets of -thousand universes, would that suffice me? No! I should seek for the -solving of a thousand more!” -</p> - -<p> -He gave a parting glance round the room,—at the fair tranced form on -the couch, at the placid Zaroba slumbering in a corner, at the whole -effect of the sumptuous apartment, with its purple and gold, its -roses, its crystal and ivory adornments,—then he passed out, drawing -to the velvet curtains noiselessly behind him. In the small ante-room, -he took up the slate and wrote upon it— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“I shall not return hither for forty-eight hours. During this interval -admit as much full daylight as possible. Observe the strictest -silence, and do not touch her. -</p> - -<p class="sign2"> -“<span class="sc">El-Râmi</span>.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -Having thus set down his instructions he descended the stairs to his -own room, where, extinguishing the electric light, he threw himself on -his hard camp-bedstead and was soon sound asleep. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch06"> -VI. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">I do</span> not believe in a future state. I am very much distressed about -it.” -</p> - -<p> -The speaker was a stoutish, able-bodied individual in clerical dress, -with rather a handsome face and an easy agreeable manner. He addressed -himself to El-Râmi, who, seated at his writing-table, observed him -with something of a satirical air. -</p> - -<p> -“You wrote me this letter?” queried El-Râmi, selecting one from a -heap beside him. The clergyman bent forward to look, and, recognising -his own handwriting, smiled a bland assent. -</p> - -<p> -“You are the Reverend Francis Anstruther, Vicar of Laneck,—a great -favourite with the Bishop of your diocese, I understand?” -</p> - -<p> -The gentleman bowed blandly again,—then assumed a meek and chastened -expression. -</p> - -<p> -“That is, I <i>was</i> a favourite of the Bishop’s at one time”—he -murmured regretfully—“and I suppose I am now, only I fear that this -matter of conscience——” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, it <i>is</i> a matter of conscience?” said El-Râmi slowly—“You are -sure of that?” -</p> - -<p> -“Quite sure of that!” and the Reverend Francis Anstruther sighed -profoundly. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Thus conscience does make cowards of us all——’” -</p> - -<p> -“I beg your pardon?” and the clergyman opened his eyes a little. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, I beg yours!—I was quoting <i>Hamlet</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh!” -</p> - -<p> -There was a silence. El-Râmi bent his dark flashing eyes on his -visitor, who seemed a little confused by the close scrutiny. It was -the morning after the circumstances narrated in the previous -chapter,—the clock marked ten minutes to noon,—the weather was -brilliant and sunshiny, and the temperature warm for the uncertain -English month of May. El-Râmi rose suddenly and threw open the window -nearest him, as if he found the air oppressive. -</p> - -<p> -“Why did you seek me out?” he demanded, turning towards the reverend -gentleman once more. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, it was really the merest accident——” -</p> - -<p> -“It always is!” said El-Râmi with a slight dubious smile. -</p> - -<p> -“I was at Lady Melthorpe’s the other day, and I told her my -difficulty. She spoke of you, and said she felt certain you would be -able to clear up my doubts——” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all. I am too busy clearing up my own,” said El-Râmi -brusquely. -</p> - -<p> -The clergyman looked surprised. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me!—I thought, from what her ladyship said, that you were -scientifically certain of——” -</p> - -<p> -“Of what?” interrupted El-Râmi—“Of myself? Nothing more uncertain in -the world than my own humour, I assure you! Of others? I am not a -student of human caprice. Of life?—of death? Neither. I am simply -trying to prove the existence of a ‘something after death’—but I am -certain of nothing, and I believe in nothing, unless proved.” -</p> - -<p> -“But,” said Mr. Anstruther anxiously—“you will, I hope, allow me to -explain that you leave a very different impression on the minds of -those to whom you speak, from the one you now suggest. Lady Melthorpe, -for instance——” -</p> - -<p> -“Lady Melthorpe believes what it pleases her to believe,”—said -El-Râmi quietly—“All pretty, sensitive, imaginative women do. That -accounts for the immense success of Roman Catholicism with women. It -is a graceful, pleasing, comforting religion,—moreover, it is really -becoming to a woman,—she looks charming with a rosary in her hand, or -a quaint old missal,—and she knows it. Lady Melthorpe is a believer -in ideals,—well, there is no harm in ideals,—long may she be able to -indulge in them.” -</p> - -<p> -“But Lady Melthorpe declares that you are able to tell the past and -the future,” persisted the clergyman—“And that you can also read the -present;—if that is so, you must surely possess visionary power?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him steadfastly. -</p> - -<p> -“I can tell you the past;”—he said—“And I can read your -present;—and from the two portions of your life I can calculate the -last addition, the Future,—but my calculation may be wrong. I mean -wrong as regards coming events;—past and present I can never be -mistaken in, because there exists a natural law, by which you are -bound to reveal yourself to me.” -</p> - -<p> -The Reverend Francis Anstruther moved uneasily in his chair, but -managed to convey into his countenance the proper expression of -politely incredulous astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -“This natural law,” went on El-Râmi, laying one hand on the celestial -globe as he spoke, “has been in existence ever since man’s formation, -but we are only just now beginning to discover it, or rather -re-discover it, since it was tolerably well known to the priests of -ancient Egypt. You see this sphere;”—and he moved the celestial globe -round slowly—“It represents the pattern of the heavens according to -our solar system. Now a Persian poet of old time declared in a few -wild verses that solar systems, taken in a mass, could be considered -the brain of heaven, the stars being the thinking, moving molecules of -that brain. A sweeping idea,—what your line-and-pattern critics would -call ‘far-fetched’—but it will serve me just now for an illustration -of my meaning. Taking this ‘brain of heaven’ by way of simile then, it -is evident we—we human pigmies—are, notwithstanding our ridiculous -littleness and inferiority, able to penetrate correctly enough into -some of the mysteries of that star-teeming intelligence,—we can even -take patterns of its shifting molecules”—and again he touched the -globe beside him,—“we can watch its modes of thought—and calculate -when certain planets will rise and set,—and when we cannot see its -action, we can get its vibrations of light, to the marvellous extent -of being able to photograph the moon of Neptune, which remains -invisible to the eye even with the assistance of a telescope. You -wonder what all this tends to?—well,—I speak of vibrations of light -from the brain of heaven,—vibrations which we know are existent; and -which we prove by means of photography; and, because we <i>see</i> the -results in black and white, we believe in them. But there are other -vibrations in the Universe, which cannot be photographed,—the -vibrations of the human brain, which, like those emanating from the -‘brain of heaven,’ are full of light and fire, and convey distinct -impressions or patterns of thought. People speak of -‘thought-transference’ from one subject to another as if it were a -remarkable coincidence,—whereas you cannot put a stop to the -transference of thought,—it is in the very air, like the germs of -disease or health,—and nothing can do away with it.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do not exactly understand”—murmured the clergyman with some -bewilderment. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, you want a practical demonstration of what seems a merely -abstract theory? Nothing easier!”—and moving again to the table he -sat down, fixing his dark eyes keenly on his visitor—“As the stars -pattern heaven in various shapes, like the constellation Lyra, or -Orion, so you have patterned your brain with pictures or photographs -of your past and your present. <i>All</i> your past, every scene of it, is -impressed in the curious little brain-particles that lie in their -various cells,—you have forgotten some incidents, but they would all -come back to you if you were drowning or being hanged;—because -suffocation or strangulation would force up every infinitesimal atom -of brain-matter into extraordinary prominence for the moment. -Naturally your present existence is the most vivid picture with you, -therefore perhaps you would like me to begin with that?” -</p> - -<p> -“Begin?—how?” asked Mr. Anstruther, still in amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“Why,—let me take the impression of your brain upon my own. It is -quite simple, and quite scientific. Consider yourself the photographic -negative, and me the sensitive paper to receive the impression! I may -offer you a blurred picture, but I do not think it likely. Only if you -wish to hide anything from me I would advise you not to try the -experiment.” -</p> - -<p> -“Really, sir,—this is very extraordinary!—I am at a loss to -comprehend——” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I will make it quite plain to you,” said El-Râmi with a slight -smile—“There is no witchcraft in it—no trickery,—nothing but the -commonest A B C science. Will you try?—or would you prefer to leave -the matter alone? My demonstration will not convince you of a ‘future -state,’ which was the subject you first spoke to me about,—it will -only prove to you the physiological phenomena surrounding your present -constitution and condition.” -</p> - -<p> -The Reverend Francis Anstruther hesitated. He was a little startled by -the cold and convincing manner with which El-Râmi spoke,—at the same -time he did not believe in his words, and his own incredulity inclined -him to see the “experiment,” whatever it was. It would be all -hocus-pocus, of course,—this Oriental fellow could know nothing about -him,—he had never seen him before, and must therefore be totally -ignorant of his private life and affairs. Considering this for a -moment, he looked up and smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“I shall be most interested and delighted,”—he said—“to make the -trial you suggest. I am really curious. As for the present picture or -photograph on my brain, I think it will only show you my perplexity as -to my position with the Bishop in my wavering state of mind——” -</p> - -<p> -“Or conscience—” suggested El-Râmi—“You said it was a matter of -conscience.” -</p> - -<p> -“Quite so—quite so! And conscience is the most powerful motor of a -man’s actions, Mr.—Mr. El-Râmi! It is indeed the voice of God!” -</p> - -<p> -“That depends on what it says, and how we hear it—” said El-Râmi -rather dryly—“Now if we are to make this ‘demonstration,’ will you -put your left hand here, in my left hand? So,—your left palm must -press closely upon my left palm,—yes—that will do. Observe the -position, please;—you see that my left fingers rest on your left -wrist, and are therefore directly touching the nerves and arteries -running through your heart from your brain. By this, you are, to use -my former simile, pressing me, the sensitive paper, to your -photographic negative—and I make no doubt we shall get a fair -impression. But to prevent any interruption to the brain-wave rushing -from you to me, we will add this little trifle,” and he dexterously -slipped a steel band over his hand and that of his visitor as they -rested thus together on the table, and snapt it to,—“a sort of -handcuff, as you perceive. It has nothing in the world to do with our -experiment. It is simply placed there to prevent your moving your hand -away from mine, which would be your natural impulse if I should happen -to say anything disagreeably true. And to do so would of course cut -the ethereal thread of contact between us. Now, are you ready?” -</p> - -<p> -The clergyman grew a shade paler. El-Râmi seemed so very sure of the -result of this singular trial that it was a little bit disagreeable. -But, having consented to the experiment, he felt he was compelled to -go through with it, so he bowed a nervous assent. Whereupon El-Râmi -closed his brilliant eyes, and sat for one or two minutes silent and -immovable. A curious fidgetiness began to trouble the Reverend Francis -Anstruther,—he tried to think of something ridiculous, something -altogether apart from himself, but in vain,—his own personality, his -own life, his own secret aims seemed all to weigh upon him like a -sudden incubus. Presently tingling sensations pricked his arm as with -burning needles,—the hand that was fettered to that of El-Râmi felt -as hot as though it were being held to a fire. All at once El-Râmi -spoke in a low tone, without opening his eyes— -</p> - -<p> -“The shadow-impression of a woman. Brown-haired, dark-eyed,—of a -full, luscious beauty, and a violent, unbridled, ill-balanced will. -Mindless, but physically attractive. She dominates your thought.” -</p> - -<p> -A quiver ran through the clergyman’s frame,—if he could only have -snatched away his hand he would have done it then. -</p> - -<p> -“She is not your wife—” went on El-Râmi—“she is the wife of your -wealthiest neighbour. You have a wife,—an invalid,—you have also -eight children,—but these are not prominent in the picture at -present. The woman with the dark eyes and hair is the chief figure. -Your plans are made for her——” -</p> - -<p> -He paused, and again the wretched Mr. Anstruther shuddered. -</p> - -<p> -“Wait—wait!” exclaimed El-Râmi suddenly in a tone of animation—“Now -it comes clearly. You have decided to leave the Church, not because -you do not believe in a future state,—for this you never have -believed at any time—but because you wish to rid yourself of all -moral and religious responsibility. Your scheme is perfectly distinct. -You will make out a ‘case of conscience’ to your authorities, and -resign your living,—you will then desert your wife and children,—you -will leave your country in the company of the woman whose secret lover -you are——” -</p> - -<p> -“Stop!” cried the Reverend Mr. Anstruther, savagely endeavouring to -wrench away his hand from the binding fetter which held it -remorselessly to the hand of El-Râmi—“Stop! You are telling me a -pack of lies!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi opened his great flashing orbs and surveyed him first in -surprise, then with a deep unutterable contempt. Unclasping the steel -band that bound their two hands together, he flung it by, and rose to -his feet. -</p> - -<p> -“Lies?” he echoed indignantly. “Your whole life is a lie, and both -Nature and Science are bound to give the reflex of it. What! would you -play a double part with the Eternal Forces and think to succeed in -such desperate fooling? Do you imagine you can deceive supreme -Omniscience, which holds every star and every infinitesimal atom of -life in a network of such instant vibrating consciousness and contact -that in terrible truth there are and can be ‘no secrets hid’? You may -if you like act out the wretched comedy of feigning to deceive <i>your</i> -God—the God of the Churches,—but beware of trifling with the <i>real</i> -God,—the absolute <span class="sc">Ego Sum</span> of the Universe.” -</p> - -<p> -His voice rang out passionately upon the stillness,—the clergyman had -also risen from his chair, and stood, nervously fumbling with his -gloves, not venturing to raise his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“I have told you the truth of yourself,”—continued El-Râmi more -quietly—“You know I have. Why then do you accuse me of telling you -lies? Why did you seek me out at all if you wished to conceal yourself -and your intentions from me? Can you deny the testimony of your own -brain reflected on mine? Come, confess! be honest for once,—<i>do</i> you -deny it?” -</p> - -<p> -“I deny everything;”—replied the clergyman,—but his accents were -husky and indistinct. -</p> - -<p> -“So be it!”—and El-Râmi gave a short laugh of scorn. “Your ‘case of -conscience’ is evidently very pressing. Go to your Bishop—and tell -him you cannot believe in a future state,—I certainly cannot help you -to prove <i>that</i> mystery. Besides, you would rather there were no -future state,—a ‘something after death’ must needs be an unpleasant -point of meditation for such as you. Oh yes!—you will get your -freedom;—you will get all you are scheming for, and you will be quite -a notorious person for a while on account of the delicacy of your -sense of honour and the rectitude of your principles. Exactly!—and -then your final <i>coup</i>,—your running away with your neighbour’s wife -will make you notorious again—in quite another sort of fashion. -Ah!—every man is bound to weave the threads of his own destiny, and -you are weaving yours;—do not be surprised if you find you have made -of them a net wherein to become hopelessly caught, tied, and -strangled. It is no doubt unpleasant for you to hear these -things,—what a pity you came to me!” -</p> - -<p> -The Reverend Francis Anstruther buttoned his glove carefully. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I do not regret it,” he said. “Any other man might perhaps feel -himself insulted, but——” -</p> - -<p> -“But you are too much of a ‘Christian’ to take offence—yes, I -daresay!” interposed El-Râmi satirically,—“I thank you for your -amiable forbearance! Allow me to close this interview”—and he was -about to ring the bell, when his visitor said hastily and with an -effort at appearing unconcerned— -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose I may rely on your secrecy respecting what has passed?” -</p> - -<p> -“Secrecy?” and El-Râmi raised his black eyebrows disdainfully. “What -you call secrecy I know not. But if you mean that I shall speak of you -and your affairs,—why, make yourself quite easy on that score. I -shall not even think of you after you have left this room. Do not -attach too much importance to yourself, reverend sir,—true, your name -will soon be mentioned in the newspapers, but this should not excite -you to an undue vanity. As for me, I have other things to occupy me, -and clerical ‘cases of conscience,’ such as yours, fail to attract -either my wonder or admiration!” Here he touched the bell.—“Féraz!” -this as his young brother instantly appeared—“The door!” -</p> - -<p> -The Reverend Francis Anstruther took up his hat, looked into it, -glanced nervously round at the picturesque form of the silent Féraz, -then, with a sudden access of courage, looked at El-Râmi. That -handsome Oriental’s fiery eyes were fixed upon him,—the superb head, -the dignified figure, the stately manner, all combined to make him -feel uncomfortable and awkward; but he forced a faint smile—it was -evident he must say something. -</p> - -<p> -“You are a very remarkable man, Mr. ... El-Râmi”—he stammered. ... -“It has been a most interesting ... and ... instructive morning!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi made no response other than a slight frigid bow. -</p> - -<p> -The clergyman again peered into the depths of his hat. -</p> - -<p> -“I will not go so far as to say you were correct in anything you -said”—he went on—“but there was a little truth in some of your -allusions,—they really applied, or might be made to apply, to past -events,—bygone circumstances ... you understand? ...” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi took one step towards him. -</p> - -<p> -“No more lies in Heaven’s name!” he said in a stern whisper. “The air -is poisoned enough for to-day. Go!” -</p> - -<p> -Such a terrible earnestness marked his face and voice that the -Reverend Francis retreated abruptly in alarm, and, stumbling out of -the room hastily, soon found himself in the open street with the great -oaken door of El-Râmi’s house shut upon him. He paused a moment, -glanced at the sky, then at the pavement, shook his head, drew a long -breath, and seemed on the verge of hesitation; then he looked at his -watch,—smiled a bland smile, and, hailing a cab, was driven to lunch -at the Criterion, where a handsome woman with dark hair and eyes met -him with mingled flattery and upbraiding, and gave herself pouting and -capricious airs of offence, because he had kept her ten minutes -waiting. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch07"> -VII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">That</span> afternoon El-Râmi prepared to go out, as was his usual custom, -immediately after the mid-day meal, which was served to him by Féraz, -who stood behind his chair like a slave all the time he ate and drank, -attending to his needs with the utmost devotion and assiduity. Féraz -indeed was his brother’s only domestic,—Zaroba’s duties being -entirely confined to the mysterious apartments upstairs and their -still more mysterious occupant. El-Râmi was in a taciturn mood,—the -visit of the Reverend Francis Anstruther seemed to have put him out, -and he scarcely spoke, save in monosyllables. Before leaving the -house, however, his humour suddenly softened, and, noting the wistful -and timorous gaze with which Féraz regarded him, he laughed outright. -</p> - -<p> -“You are very patient with me, Féraz!” he said—“And I know I am as -sullen as a bear.” -</p> - -<p> -“You think too much;”—replied Féraz gently—“And you work too hard.” -</p> - -<p> -“Both thought and labour are necessary,” said El-Râmi—“You would not -have me live a life of merely bovine repose?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz gave a deprecating gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay—but surely rest is needful. To be happy, God Himself must -sometimes sleep.” -</p> - -<p> -“You think so?” and El-Râmi smiled—“Then it must be during His hours -of repose and oblivion that the business of life goes wrong, and -darkness and the spirit of confusion walk abroad. The Creator should -never sleep.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not, if He has dreams?” asked Féraz—“For if Eternal Thought -becomes Substance, so a God’s Dream may become Life.” -</p> - -<p> -“Poetic as usual, my Féraz”—replied his brother—“and yet perhaps -you are not so far wrong in your ideas. That Thought becomes -Substance, even with man’s limited powers, is true enough;—the -thought of a perfect form grows up embodied in the weight and -substance of marble, with the sculptor,—the vague fancies of a poet, -being set in ink on paper, become substance in book-shape, solid -enough to pass from one hand to the other;—even so may a God’s mere -Thought of a world create a Planet. It is my own impression that -thoughts, like atoms, are imperishable, and that even dreams, being -forms of thought, never die. But I must not stay here talking,—adieu! -Do not sit up for me to-night—I shall not return,—I am going down to -the coast.” -</p> - -<p> -“To Ilfracombe?” questioned Féraz—“So long a journey, and all to see -that poor mad soul?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him steadfastly. -</p> - -<p> -“No more ‘mad,’ Féraz, than you are with your notions about your -native star! Why should a scientist who amuses himself with the -reflections on a disc of magnetic crystal be deemed ‘mad’? Fifty years -ago the electric inventions of Edison would have been called -‘impossible,’—and he, the inventor, considered hopelessly insane. But -now we know these seeming ‘miracles’ are facts, we cease to wonder at -them. And my poor friend with his disc is a harmless creature;—his -‘craze,’ if it be a craze, is as innocent as yours.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I have no craze,”—said Féraz composedly,—“All that I know and -see lives in my brain like music,—and, though I remember it -perfectly, I trouble no one with the story of my past.” -</p> - -<p> -“And he troubles no one with what he deems may be the story of the -future”—said El-Râmi—“Call no one ‘mad’ because he happens to have -a new idea—for time may prove such ‘madness’ a merely perfected -method of reason. I must hasten, or I shall lose my train.” -</p> - -<p> -“If it is the 2.40 from Waterloo, you have time,” said Féraz—“It is -not yet two o’clock. Do you leave any message for Zaroba?” -</p> - -<p> -“None. She has my orders.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked full at his brother, and a warm flush coloured his -handsome face. -</p> - -<p> -“Shall I never be worthy of your confidence?” he asked in a low -voice—“Can you never trust <i>me</i> with your great secret, as well as -Zaroba?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi frowned darkly. -</p> - -<p> -“Again, this vulgar vice of curiosity? I thought you were exempt from -it by this time.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, but hear me, El-Râmi”—said Féraz eagerly, distressed at the -anger in his brother’s eyes—“It is not curiosity,—it is something -else,—something that I can hardly explain, except. ... Oh, you will -only laugh at me if I tell you. ... but yet——” -</p> - -<p> -“But what?” demanded El-Râmi sternly. -</p> - -<p> -“It is as if a voice called me,”—answered Féraz dreamily—“a voice -from those upper chambers, which you keep closed, and of which only -Zaroba has the care—a voice that asks for freedom and for peace. It -is such a sorrowful voice,—but sweet,—more sweet than any singing. -True, I hear it but seldom,—only, when I do, it haunts me for hours -and hours. I know you are at some great work up there,—but can you -make such voices ring from a merely scientific laboratory? Now you are -angered!” -</p> - -<p> -His large soft brilliant eyes rested appealingly upon his brother, -whose features had grown pale and rigid. -</p> - -<p> -“Angered!” he echoed, speaking as it seemed with some effort,—“Am I -ever angered at your—your fancies? For fancies they are, Féraz,—the -voice you hear is like the imagined home in that distant star you -speak of,—an image and an echo on your brain—no more. My ‘great -work,’ as you call it, would have no interest for you;—it is nothing -but a test-experiment, which, if it fails, then I fail with it, and am -no more El-Râmi-Zarânos, but the merest fool that ever clamoured for -the moon.” He said this more to himself than to his brother, and -seemed for the moment to have forgotten where he was,—till suddenly -rousing himself with a start he forced a smile. -</p> - -<p> -“Farewell for the present, gentle visionary!” he said kindly,—“You -are happier with your dreams than I with my facts,—do not seek out -sorrow for yourself by rash and idle questioning.” -</p> - -<p> -With a parting nod he went out, and Féraz, closing the door after -him, remained in the hall for a few moments in a sort of vague -reverie. How silent the house seemed, he thought with a half-sigh. The -very atmosphere of it was depressing, and even his favourite -occupation, music, had just now no attraction for him. He turned -listlessly into his brother’s study,—he determined to read for an -hour or so, and looked about in search of some entertaining volume. On -the table he found a book open,—a manuscript, written on vellum in -Arabic, with curious uncanny figures and allegorical designs on the -headings and margins. El-Râmi had left it there by mistake,—it was a -particularly valuable treasure which he generally kept under lock and -key. Féraz sat down in front of it, and, resting his head on his two -hands, began to read at the page where it lay open. Arabic was his -native tongue,—yet he had some difficulty in making out this especial -specimen of the language, because the writing was anything but -distinct, and some of the letters had a very odd way of vanishing -before his eyes, just as he had fixed them on a word. This was -puzzling as well as irritating,—he must have something the matter -with his sight or his brain, he concluded, as these vanishing letters -always came into position again after a little. Worried by the -phenomenon, he seized the book and carried it to the full light of the -open window, and there succeeded in making out the meaning of one -passage which was quite sufficient to set him thinking. It ran as -follows:— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“Wherefore, touching illusions and impressions, as also strong -emotions of love, hatred, jealousy, or revenge, these nerve and brain -sensations are easily conveyed from one human subject to another by -Suggestion. The first process is to numb the optic nerve. This is done -in two ways—I. By causing the subject to fix his eyes steadily on a -round shining case containing a magnet, while you shall count two -hundred beats of time. II. By wilfully making your own eyes the -magnet, and fixing your subject thereto. Either of these operations -will temporarily paralyse the optic nerves, and arrest the motion of -the blood in the vessels pertaining. Thus the brain becomes insensible -to external impressions, and is only awake to internal suggestions, -which you may make as many and as devious as you please. Your subject -will see exactly what you choose him to see, hear what you wish him to -hear, do what you bid him do, so long as you hold him by your power, -which if you understand the laws of light, sound, and air-vibrations, -you may be able to retain for an indefinite period. The same force -applies to the magnetising of a multitude as of a single -individual.”<a href="#fn1b" id="fn1a">[1]</a> -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -Féraz read this over and over again,—then, returning to the table, -laid the book upon it with a deeply engrossed air. It had given him -unpleasant matter for reflection. -</p> - -<p> -“A dreamer—a visionary, he calls me—” he mused, his thoughts -reverting to his absent brother—“Full of fancies poetic and -musical,—now can it be that I owe my very dreams to his dominance? -Does he <i>make</i> me subservient to him, as I am, or is my submission to -his will my <i>own</i> desire? Is my ‘madness’ or ‘craze,’ or whatever he -calls it, of <i>his</i> working? and should I be more like other men if I -were separated from him? And yet what has he ever done to me, save -make me happy? Has he placed me under the influence of any magnet such -as this book describes? Certainly not that I am aware of. He has made -my inward spirit clearer of comprehension, so that I hear him call me -even by a thought,—I see and know beautiful things of which grosser -souls have no perception,—and am I not content?—Yes, surely I -am!—surely I should be,—though at times there seems a something -missing—a something to which I cannot give a name.” -</p> - -<p> -He sighed,—and again buried his head between his hands,—he was -conscious of a dreary sensation, unusual to his bright and fervid -nature,—the very sunshine streaming through the window seemed to lack -true brilliancy. Suddenly a hand was laid upon his shoulder,—he -started and rose to his feet with a bewildered air,—then smiled, as -he saw that the intruder was only Zaroba. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch08"> -VIII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Only</span> Zaroba,—gaunt, grim, fierce-eyed Zaroba, old and unlovely, yet -possessing withal an air of savage dignity, as she stood erect, her -amber-coloured robe bound about her with a scarlet girdle, and her -gray hair gathered closely under a small coif of the same vivid hue. -Her wrinkled visage had more animation in it than on the previous -night, and her harsh voice grew soft as she looked at the picturesque -glowing beauty of the young man beside her, and addressed him. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi has gone?” she asked. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz nodded. He generally made her understand him either by signs, -or the use of the finger-alphabet, at which he was very dexterous. -</p> - -<p> -“On what quest?” she demanded. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz explained rapidly and mutely that he had gone to visit a friend -residing at a distance from town. -</p> - -<p> -“Then he will not return to-night;”—muttered Zaroba thoughtfully—“He -will not return to-night.” -</p> - -<p> -She sat down, and, clasping her hands across her knees, rocked herself -to and fro for some minutes in silence. Then she spoke, more to -herself than to her listener. -</p> - -<p> -“He is an angel or a fiend,” she said in low meditative accents. “Or -maybe he is both in one. He saved me from death once—I shall never -forget that. And by his power he sent me back to my native land last -night—I bound my black tresses with pearl and gold, and laughed and -sang,—I was young again!”—and with a sudden cry she raised her hands -above her head and clapped them fiercely together, so that the silver -bangles on her arms jangled like bells;—“As God liveth, I was young! -<i>You</i> know what it is to be young”—and she turned her dark orbs half -enviously upon Féraz, who, leaning against his brother’s -writing-table, regarded her with interest and something of awe—“or -you should know it! To feel the blood leap in the veins, while the -happy heart keeps time like the beat of a joyous cymbal,—to catch the -breath and tremble with ecstasy as the eyes one loves best in the -world flash lightning-passion into your own,—to make companions of -the roses, and feel the pulses quicken at the songs of birds,—to -tread the ground so lightly as to scarcely know whether it is earth or -air—this is to be young!—young!—and I was young last night. My love -was with me,—my love, my more than lover—‘Zaroba, beautiful Zaroba!’ -he said, and his kisses were as honey on my lips—‘Zaroba, pearl of -passion! fountain of sweetness in a desert land!—thine eyes are fire -in which I burn my soul,—thy round arms the prison in which I lock my -heart! Zaroba, beautiful Zaroba!’—Beautiful! Ay!—through the power -of El-Râmi I was fair to see—last night! ... only last night!” -</p> - -<p> -Her voice sank down into a feeble wailing, and Féraz gazed at her -compassionately and in a little wonder,—he was accustomed to see her -in various strange and incomprehensible moods, but she was seldom so -excited as now. -</p> - -<p> -“Why do you not laugh?” she asked suddenly and with a touch of -defiance—“Why do you not laugh at me?—at me, the wretched -Zaroba,—old and unsightly—bent and wrinkled!—that I should dare to -say I was once beautiful!—It is a thing to make sport of—an old -forsaken woman’s dream of her dead youth.” -</p> - -<p> -With an impulsive movement that was as graceful as it was becoming, -Féraz, for sole reply, dropped on one knee beside her, and, taking -her wrinkled hand, touched it lightly but reverently with his lips. -She trembled, and great tears rose in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Poor boy!” she muttered—“Poor child!—a child to me, and yet a man! -As God liveth, a man!” She looked at him with a curious steadfastness. -“Good Féraz, forgive me—I did you wrong—I know you would not mock -the aged, or make wanton sport of their incurable woes,—you are too -gentle. I would in truth you were less mild of spirit—less womanish -of heart!” -</p> - -<p> -“Womanish!” and Féraz leaped up, stung by the word, he knew not why. -His heart beat strangely—his blood tingled,—it seemed to him that if -he had possessed a weapon his instinct would have been to draw it -then. Never had he looked so handsome; and Zaroba, watching his -expression, clapped her withered hands in a sort of witch-like -triumph. -</p> - -<p> -“Ha!”—she cried—“The man’s mettle speaks! There is something more -than the dreamer in you then—something that will help you to explain -the mystery of your existence—something that says—‘Féraz, you are -the slave of destiny—up! be its master! Féraz, you sleep—awake!’” -and Zaroba stood up tall and imposing, with the air of an inspired -sorceress delivering a prophecy—“Féraz, you have manhood—prove -it!—Féraz, you have missed the one joy of life—Love!—Win it!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz stared at her amazed. Her words were such as she had never -addressed to him before, and yet they moved him with a singular -uneasiness. Love? Surely he knew the meaning of love? It was an ideal -passion, like the lifting up of life in prayer. Had not his brother -told him that perfect love was unattainable on this planet?—and was -it not a word the very suggestions of which could only be expressed in -music? These thoughts ran through his mind while he stood inert and -wondering—then, rousing himself a little from the effects of Zaroba’s -outburst, he sat down at the table, and, taking up a pencil, wrote as -follows— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“You talk wildly, Zaroba—you cannot be well. Let me hear no more—you -disturb my peace. I know what love is—I know what life is. But the -best part of my life and love is not here,—but elsewhere.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -Zaroba took the paper from his hand, read it, and tore it to bits in a -rage. -</p> - -<p> -“O foolish youth!” she exclaimed—“Your love is the love of a -Dream,—your life is the life of a Dream! You see with another’s -eyes—you think through another’s brain. You are a mere machine, -played upon by another’s will! But not for ever shall you be -deceived—not for ever,—” here she gave a slight start and looked -around her nervously as though she expected some one to enter the room -suddenly—“Listen! Come to me to-night,—to-night when all is dark and -silent,—when every sound in the outside street is stilled,—come to -me—and I will show you a marvel of the world!—one who, like you, is -the victim of a Dream!” She broke off abruptly and glanced from right -to left in evident alarm,—then, with a fresh impetus of courage, she -bent towards her companion again and whispered in his ear—“Come!” -</p> - -<p> -“But where?” asked Féraz in the language of signs. -</p> - -<p> -“Up yonder!” said Zaroba firmly, regardless of the utter amazement -with which Féraz greeted this answer—“Up, where El-Râmi hides his -great secret. Yes—I know he has forbidden you to venture there,—even -so has he forbidden me to speak of what he cherishes so closely,—but -are we slaves, you and I? Do you purpose always to obey him? So be it, -an you will? But if I were you,—a man—I would defy both gods and -fiends if they opposed my liberty of action. Do as it pleases you,—I, -Zaroba, have given you the choice,—stay and dream of life—or come -and live it! Till to-night—farewell!” -</p> - -<p> -She had reached the door and vanished through it, before Féraz could -demand more of her meaning,—and he was left alone, a prey to the most -torturing emotions. “The vulgar vice of curiosity!” That was the -phrase his brother had used to him scarcely an hour agone,—and yet, -here he was, yielding to a fresh fit of the intolerable desire that -had possessed him for years to know El-Râmi’s great secret. He -dropped wearily into a chair and thought all the circumstances over. -They were as follows:— -</p> - -<p> -In the first place he had never known any other protector or friend -than his brother, who, being several years older than himself, had -taken sole charge of him after the almost simultaneous death of their -father and mother, an event which he knew had occurred somewhere in -the East, but how or when, he could not exactly remember, nor had he -ever been told much about it. He had always been very happy in -El-Râmi’s companionship, and had travelled with him nearly all over -the world,—and, though they had never been rich, they always had -sufficient wherewith to live comfortably, though how even this small -competence was gained Féraz never knew. There had been no particular -mystery about his brother’s life, however, till on one occasion, when -they were travelling together across the Syrian desert, where they had -come upon a caravan of half-starved Arab wanderers in dire distress -from want and sickness. Among them was an elderly woman at the extreme -point of death, and an orphan child named Lilith, who was also dying. -El-Râmi had suddenly, for no special reason, save kindness of heart -and compassion, offered his services as physician to the stricken -little party, and had restored the elderly woman, a widow, almost -miraculously to health and strength in a day or two. This woman was no -other than Zaroba. The sick child however, a girl of about twelve -years old, died. And here began the puzzle. On the day of this girl’s -death, El-Râmi, with sudden and inexplicable haste, had sent his -young brother on to Alexandria, bidding him there take ship -immediately for the Island of Cyprus, and carry to a certain monastery -some miles from Famagousta a packet of documents, which he stated were -of the most extraordinary value and importance. Féraz had obeyed, -and, according to further instructions, had remained as a visitor in -that Cyprian religious retreat, among monks unlike any other monks he -had ever seen or heard of, till he was sent for, whereupon, according -to command, he rejoined El-Râmi in London. He found him, somewhat to -his surprise, installed in the small house where they now were,—with -the woman Zaroba, whose presence was another cause of blank -astonishment, especially as she seemed to have nothing to do but keep -certain rooms upstairs in order. But all the questions Féraz poured -out respecting her, and everything that had happened since their -parting in the Syrian desert, were met by equivocal replies or -absolute silence on his brother’s part, and by and by the young man -grew accustomed to his position. Day by day he became more and more -subservient to El-Râmi’s will, though he could never quite comprehend -why he was so willingly submissive. Of course he knew that his brother -was gifted with certain powers of physical magnetism,—because he had -allowed himself to be practised upon, and he took a certain interest -in the scientific development of those powers, this being, as he quite -comprehended, one of the branches of study on which El-Râmi was -engaged. He knew that his brother could compel response to thought -from a distance,—but, as there were others of his race who could do -the same thing, and as that sort of mild hypnotism was largely -practised in the East, where he was born, he attached no special -importance to it. Endowed with various gifts of genius such as music -and poetry, and a quick perception of everything beautiful and -artistic, Féraz lived in a tranquil little Eden of his own,—and the -only serpent in it that now and then lifted its head to hiss doubt and -perplexity was the inexplicable mystery of those upstair rooms over -which Zaroba had guardianship. The merest allusion to the subject -excited El-Râmi’s displeasure; and during the whole time they had -lived together in that house, now nearly six years, he had not dared -to speak of it more than a very few times, while Zaroba, on her part, -had faithfully preserved the utmost secrecy. Now, she seemed disposed -to break the long-kept rules,—and Féraz knew not what to think of -it. -</p> - -<p> -“Is everything destiny, as El-Râmi says?” he mused—“Or shall I -follow my own desires in the face of destiny? Shall I yield to -temptation—or shall I overcome it? Shall I break his command,—lose -his affection and be a free man,—or shall I obey him still, and be -his slave? And what should I do with my liberty if I had it, I wonder? -Womanish! What a word! <i>Am</i> I womanish?” He paced up and down the room -in sudden irritation and haughtiness;—the piano stood open, but its -ivory keys failed to attract him,—his brain was full of other -suggestions than the making of sweet harmony. -</p> - -<p> -“Do not seek out sorrow for yourself by rash and idle questioning.” -</p> - -<p> -So his brother had said at parting And the words rang in his ears as -he walked to and fro restlessly, thinking, wondering, and worrying his -mind with vague wishes and foreboding anxieties, till the shining -afternoon wore away and darkness fell. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch09"> -IX. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">A rough</span> night at sea,—but the skies were clear, and the great -worlds of God, which we call stars, throbbed in the heavens like -lustrous lamps, all the more brilliantly for there being no moon to -eclipse their glory. A high gale was blowing, and the waves dashed up -on the coast of Ilfracombe with an organ-like thud and roar as they -broke in high jets of spray, and then ran swiftly back again with a -soft swish and ripple suggestive of the downward chromatic scale -played rapidly on well-attuned strings. There was freshness and life -in the dancing wind;—the world seemed well in motion;—and, standing -aloft among the rocks, and looking down at the tossing sea, one could -realise completely the continuous whirl of the globe beneath one’s -feet, and the perpetual movement of the planet-studded heavens. High -above the shore, on a bare jutting promontory, a solitary house faced -seaward;—it was squarely built and surmounted with a tower, wherein -one light burned fitfully, its pale sparkle seeming to quiver with -fear as the wild wind fled past joyously, with a swirl and cry like -some huge sea-bird on the wing. It looked a dismal residence at its -best, even when the sun was shining,—but at night its aspect was -infinitely more dreary. It was an old house, and it enjoyed the -reputation of being haunted,—a circumstance which had enabled its -present owner to purchase the lease of it for a very moderate sum. He -it was who had built the tower, and, whether because of this piece of -extravagance or for other unexplained reasons, he had won for himself -personally almost as uncanny a reputation as the house had possessed -before he occupied it. A man who lived the life of a recluse,—who -seemed to have no relations with the outside world at all,—who had -only one servant (a young German, whom the shrewder gossips declared -was his “keeper”)—who lived on such simple fare as certainly would -never have contented a modern Hodge earning twelve shillings a week, -and who seemed to purchase nothing but strange astronomical and -geometrical instruments,—surely such a queer personage must either be -mad, or in league with some evil “secret society,”—the more -especially that he had had that tower erected, into which, after it -was finished, no one but himself ever entered, so far as the people of -the neighbourhood could tell. Under all these suspicious -circumstances, it was natural he should be avoided; and avoided he was -by the good folk of Ilfracombe, in that pleasantly diverting fashion -which causes provincial respectability to shudder away from the merest -suggestion of superior intelligence. -</p> - -<p> -And yet poor old Dr. Kremlin was a being not altogether to be -despised. His appearance was perhaps against him inasmuch as his -clothes were shabby, and his eyes rather wild,—but the expression of -his meagre face was kind and gentle, and a perpetual compassion for -everything and everybody seemed to vibrate in his voice and reflect -itself in his melancholy smile. He was deeply occupied—so he told a -few friends in Russia, where he was born—in serious scientific -investigations,—but the “friends,” deeming him mad, held aloof till -those investigations should become results. If the results proved -disappointing, there would be no need to notice him any more,—if -successful, why then, by a mystic process known only to themselves, -the “friends” would so increase and multiply that he would be quite -inconveniently surrounded by them. In the meantime, nobody wrote to -him, or came to see him, except El-Râmi; and it was El-Râmi now, -who, towards ten o’clock in the evening, knocked at the door of his -lonely habitation and was at once admitted with every sign of -deference and pleasure by the servant Karl. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m glad you’ve come, sir,”—said this individual cheerfully,—“The -Herr Doctor has not been out all day, and he eats less than ever. It -will do him good to see you.” -</p> - -<p> -“He is in the tower as usual, at work?” inquired El-Râmi, throwing -off his coat. -</p> - -<p> -Karl assented, with rather a doleful look,—and, opening the door of a -small dining-room, showed the supper-table laid for two. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s no good, Karl!” he said kindly—“It’s very well meant on your -part, but it’s no good at all. You will never persuade your master to -eat at this time of night, or me either. Clear all these things -away,—and make your mind easy,—go to bed and sleep. To-morrow -morning prepare as excellent a breakfast as you please—I promise you -we’ll do justice to it! Don’t look so discontented—don’t you know -that over-feeding kills the working capacity?” -</p> - -<p> -“And over-starving kills the man,—working capacity and -all”—responded Karl lugubriously—“However, I suppose you know best, -sir!” -</p> - -<p> -“In this case I do”—replied El-Râmi—“Your master expects me?” -</p> - -<p> -Karl nodded,—and El-Râmi, with a brief “good-night,” ascended the -staircase rapidly and soon disappeared. A door banged aloft—then all -was still. Karl sighed profoundly, and slowly cleared away the useless -supper. -</p> - -<p> -“Well! How wise men can bear to starve themselves just for the sake of -teaching fools, is more than I shall ever understand!” he said half -aloud—“But then I shall never be wise—I am an ass and always was. A -good dinner and a glass of good wine have always seemed to me better -than all the science going,—there’s a shameful confession of -ignorance and brutality together, if you like. ‘Where do you think you -will go to when you die, Karl?’ says the poor old Herr Doctor. And -what do <i>I</i> say? I say—‘I don’t know, <i>mein Herr</i>—and I don’t care. -This world is good enough for me so long as I live in it.’ ‘But -afterwards, Karl,—afterwards?’ he says, with his gray head shaking. -And what do <i>I</i> say? Why, I say—‘I can’t tell, <i>mein Herr</i>! but -whoever sent me Here will surely have sense enough to look after me -There!’ And he laughs, and his head shakes worse than ever. Ah! -Nothing can ever make me clever, and I’m very glad of it!” -</p> - -<p> -He whistled a lively tune softly, as he went to bed in his little -side-room off the passage, and wondered again, as he had wondered -hundreds of times before, what caused that solemn low humming noise -that throbbed so incessantly through the house, and seemed so loud -when everything else was still. It was a grave sound,—suggestive of a -long-sustained organ-note held by the pedal-bass;—the murmuring of -seas and rivers seemed in it, as well as the rush of the wind. Karl -had grown accustomed to it, though he did not know what it meant,—and -he listened to it, till drowsiness made him fancy it was the hum of -his mother’s spinning-wheel, at home in his native German village -among the pine-forests, and so he fell happily asleep. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile El-Râmi, ascending to the tower, knocked sharply at a small -nail-studded door in the wall. The mysterious murmuring noise was now -louder than ever,—and the knock had to be repeated three or four -times before it was attended to. Then the door was cautiously opened, -and the “Herr Doctor” himself looked out, his wizened, aged, -meditative face illumined like a Rembrandt picture by the small -hand-lamp he held in his hand. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!—El-Râmi!” he said in slow yet pleased tones—“I thought it -might be you. And like ‘Bernardo’—you ‘come most carefully upon your -hour.’” -</p> - -<p> -He smiled, as one well satisfied to have made an apt quotation, and -opened the door more widely to admit his visitor. -</p> - -<p> -“Come in quickly,”—he said—“The great window is open to the skies, -and the wind is high,—I fear some damage from the draught,—come -in—come in!” -</p> - -<p> -His voice became suddenly testy and querulous,—and El-Râmi stepped -in at once without reply. Dr. Kremlin shut to the door carefully and -bolted it—then he turned the light of the lamp he carried full on the -dark handsome face and dignified figure of his companion. -</p> - -<p> -“You are looking well—well,”—he muttered,—“Not a shade -older—always sound and strong! Just Heavens!—if I had your physique, -I think, with Archimedes, that I could lift the world! But I am -getting very old,—the life in me is ebbing fast,—and I have not done -my work— ... God! ... God! I have not done my work!” -</p> - -<p> -He clenched his hands, and his voice quavered down into a sound that -was almost a groan. El-Râmi’s black beaming eyes rested on him -compassionately. -</p> - -<p> -“You are worn out, my dear Kremlin,”—he said gently—“worn out and -exhausted with long toil. You shall sleep to-night. I have come -according to my promise, and I will do what I can for you. Trust -me—you shall not lose the reward of your life’s work by want of time. -You shall have time,—even leisure to complete your labours,—I will -give you ‘length of days’!” -</p> - -<p> -The elder man sank into a chair trembling, and rested his head wearily -on one hand. -</p> - -<p> -“You cannot;”—he said faintly—“you cannot stop the advance of death, -my friend! You are a very clever man—you have a far-reaching subtlety -of brain,—but your learning and wisdom must pause <i>there</i>—there at -the boundary-line of the grave. You cannot overstep it or penetrate -beyond it—you cannot slacken the pace of the on-rushing years;—no, -no! I shall be forced to depart with half my discovery uncompleted.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled,—a slightly derisive smile. -</p> - -<p> -“You, who have faith in so much that cannot be proved, are singularly -incredulous of a fact that <i>can</i> be proved;”—he said—“Anyway, -whatever you choose to think, here I am in answer to your rather -sudden summons—and here is your saving remedy;—” and he placed a -gold-stoppered flask on the table near which they sat—“It is, or -might be called, a veritable distilled essence of time,—for it will -do what they say God cannot do, make the days spin backward!” -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Kremlin took up the flask curiously. -</p> - -<p> -“You are so positive of its action?” -</p> - -<p> -“Positive. I have kept one human creature alive and in perfect health -for six years on that vital fluid alone.” -</p> - -<p> -“Wonderful!—wonderful!”—and the old scientist held it close to the -light, where it seemed to flash like a diamond,—then he smiled -dubiously—“Am I the new Faust, and you Mephisto?” -</p> - -<p> -“Bah!” and El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders carelessly—“An old nurse’s -tale!—yet, like all old nurses’ tales and legends of every sort under -the sun, it is not without its grain of truth. As I have often told -you, there is really nothing imagined by the human brain that is not -possible of realisation, either here or hereafter. It would be a false -note and a useless calculation to allow thought to dwell on what -cannot be,—hence our airiest visions are bound to become facts in -time. All the same, I am not of such superhuman ability that I can -make you change your skin like a serpent, and blossom into youth and -the common vulgar lusts of life, which to the thinker must be -valueless. No. What you hold there will simply renew the tissues, and -gradually enrich the blood with fresh globules—nothing more,—but -that is all you need. Plainly and practically speaking, as long as the -tissues and the blood continue to renew themselves, you cannot die -except by violence.” -</p> - -<p> -“Cannot die!” echoed Kremlin, in stupefied wonder—“Cannot die?” -</p> - -<p> -“Except by violence—” repeated El-Râmi with emphasis, “Well!—and -what now? There is nothing really astonishing in the statement. Death -by violence is the only death possible to any one familiar with the -secrets of Nature, and there is more than one lesson to be learned -from the old story of Cain and Abel. The first death in the world, -according to that legend, was death by violence. Without violence, -life should be immortal, or at least renewable at pleasure.” -</p> - -<p> -“Immortal!” muttered Dr. Kremlin—“Immortal! Renewable at pleasure! My -God!—then I have time before me—plenty of time!” -</p> - -<p> -“You have, if you care for it—” said El-Râmi with a tinge of -melancholy in his accents—“and if you continue to care for it. Few -do, nowadays.” -</p> - -<p> -But his companion scarcely heard him. He was balancing the little -flask in his hand in wonderment and awe. -</p> - -<p> -“Death by violence?” he repeated slowly. “But, my friend, may not God -Himself use violence towards us? May He not snatch the unwilling soul -from its earthly tenement at an unexpected moment,—and so, all the -scheming and labour and patient calculation of years be ended in one -flash of time?” -</p> - -<p> -“God—if there be a God, which some are fain to believe there -is,—uses no violence—” replied El-Râmi—“Deaths by violence are due -to the ignorance, or brutality, or long-inherited foolhardiness and -interference of man alone.” -</p> - -<p> -“What of shipwreck?—storm?—lightning?”—queried Dr. Kremlin, still -playing with the flask he held. -</p> - -<p> -“You are not going to sea, are you?” asked El-Râmi smiling—“And -surely you, of all men, should know that even shipwrecks are due to a -lack of mathematical balance in shipbuilding. One little trifle of -exactitude, which is always missing, unfortunately,—one little -delicate scientific adjustment, and the fiercest storm and wind could -not prevail against the properly poised vessel. As for lightning—of -course people are killed by it if they persist in maintaining an erect -position like a lightning-rod or conductor, while the electrical -currents are in full play. If they were to lie flat down, as savages -do, they could not attract the descending force. But who, among -arrogant stupid men, cares to adopt such simple precautions? Any way, -I do not see that you need fear any of these disasters.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no,”—said the old man meditatively, “I need not fear,—no, no! I -have nothing to fear.” -</p> - -<p> -His voice sank into silence. He and El-Râmi were sitting in a small -square chamber of the tower,—very narrow, with only space enough for -the one tiny table and two chairs which furnished it,—the walls were -covered with very curious maps, composed of lines and curves and -zigzag patterns, meaningless to all except Kremlin himself, whose -dreamy gaze wandered to them between-whiles with an ardent yearning -and anxiety. And ever that strange deep, monotonous humming noise -surged through the tower as of a mighty wheel at work, the vibration -of the sound seemed almost to shake the solid masonry, while mingling -with it now and again came the wild sea-bird cry of the wind. El-Râmi -listened. -</p> - -<p> -“And still it moves?” he queried softly, using almost the words of -Galileo,—“<i>e pur si muove</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Kremlin looked up, his pale eyes full of a sudden fire and -animation. -</p> - -<p> -“Ay!—still it moves!” he responded with a touch of eager triumph in -his tone—“Still it moves—and still it sounds! The music of the -Earth, my friend!—the dominant note of all Nature’s melody! Hear -it!—round, full, grand, and perfect!—one tone in the ascending scale -of the planets,—the song of <i>one</i> Star,—our Star—as it rolls on its -predestined way! Come!—come with me!” and he sprang up excitedly—“It -is a night for work;—the heavens are clear as a mirror,—come and see -my Dial of the Fates,—you have seen it before, I know, but there are -new reflexes upon it now,—new lines of light and colour,—ah, my good -El-Râmi, if you could solve <i>my</i> problem, you would be soon wiser -than you are! Your gift of long life would be almost valueless -compared to my proof of what is beyond life——” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—if the proof could be obtained—” interposed El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“It shall be obtained!” cried Kremlin wildly—“It shall! I will not -die till the secret is won! I will wrench it out from the Holy of -Holies—I will pluck it from the very thoughts of God!” -</p> - -<p> -He trembled with the violence of his own emotions,—then passing his -hand across his forehead, he relapsed into sudden calm, and, smiling -gently, said again— -</p> - -<p> -“Come!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi rose at once in obedience to this request,—and the old man -preceded him to a high narrow door which looked like a slit in the -wall, and which he unbarred and opened with an almost jealous care. A -brisk puff of wind blew in their faces through the aperture, but this -subsided into mere cool freshness of air as they entered and stood -together within the great central chamber of the tower,—a lofty -apartment, where the strange work of Kremlin’s life was displayed in -all its marvellous complexity,—a work such as no human being had ever -attempted before, or would be likely to attempt again. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch10"> -X. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">The</span> singular object that at once caught and fixed the eye in -fascinated amazement, and something of terror, was a huge disc, -suspended between ceiling and floor by an apparently inextricable mesh -and tangle of wires. It was made of some smooth glittering substance -like crystal, and seemed from its great height and circumference to -occupy nearly the whole of the lofty tower-room. It appeared to be -lightly poised and balanced on a long steel rod,—a sort of gigantic -needle which hung from the very top of the tower. The entire surface -of the disc was a subdued blaze of light,—light which fluctuated in -waves and lines, and zigzag patterns like a kaleidoscope, as the -enormous thing circled round and round, as it did, with a sort of -measured motion, and a sustained solemn buzzing sound. Here was the -explanation of the mysterious noise that vibrated throughout the -house,—it was simply the movement of this round shield-like mass -among its wonderful network of rods and wires. Dr. Kremlin called it -his “crystal” disc,—but it was utterly unlike ordinary crystal, for -it not only shone with a transparent watery clearness, but possessed -the scintillating lustre of a fine diamond cut into numerous prisms, -so that El-Râmi shaded his eyes from the flash of it as he stood -contemplating it in silence. It swirled round and round steadily; -facing it, a large casement window, about the size of half the wall, -was thrown open to the night, and through this could be seen a myriad -sparkling stars. The wind blew in, but not fiercely now, for part of -the wrath of the gale was past,—and the wash of the sea on the beach -below had exactly the same tone in it as the monotonous hum of the -disc as it moved. At one side of the open window a fine telescope -mounted on a high stand pointed out towards the heavens,—there were -numerous other scientific implements in the room, but it was -impossible to take much notice of anything but the disc itself, with -its majestic motion and the solemn sound to which it swung. Dr. -Kremlin seemed to have almost forgotten El-Râmi’s presence,—going up -to the window, he sat down on a low bench in the corner, and folding -his arms across his breast gazed at his strange invention with a -fixed, wondering, and appealing stare. -</p> - -<p> -“How to unravel the meaning—how to decipher the message!” he -muttered—“Sphinx of my brain, tell me, is there no answer? Shall the -actual offspring of my thought refuse to clear up the riddle I -propound? Nay, is it possible the creature should baffle the creator? -See! the lines change again—the vibrations are altered,—the circle -is ever the circle, but the reflexes differ,—how can one separate or -classify them—how?” -</p> - -<p> -Thus far his half-whispered words were audible,—when El-Râmi came -and stood beside him. Then he seemed to suddenly recollect himself, -and, looking up, he rose to his feet and spoke in a perfectly calm and -collected manner. -</p> - -<p> -“You see”—he said, pointing to the disc with the air of a lecturer -illustrating his discourse—“To begin with, there is the fine -hair’s-breadth balance of matter which gives perpetual motion. Nothing -can stop that movement save the destruction of the whole piece of -mechanism. By some such subtly delicate balance as that, the Universe -moves,—and nothing can stop it save the destruction of the Universe. -Is not that fairly reasoned?” -</p> - -<p> -“Perfectly,” replied El-Râmi, who was listening with profound -attention. -</p> - -<p> -“Surely that of itself,—the secret of perpetual motion,—is a great -discovery, is it not?” questioned Kremlin eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“It is,” he said at last. “Forgive me if I paused a moment before -replying,—the reason of my doing so was this. You cannot claim to -yourself any actual discovery of perpetual motion, because that is -Nature’s own particular mystery. Perhaps I do not explain myself with -sufficient clearness,—well, what I mean to imply is this—namely, -that your wonderful dial there would not revolve as it does if the -Earth on which we stand were not also revolving. If we could imagine -our planet stopping suddenly in its course, your disc would stop -also,—is not that correct?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, naturally!” assented Kremlin impatiently. “Its movement is -mathematically calculated to follow, in a slower degree, but with -rhythmical exactitude, the Earth’s own movement, and is so balanced as -to be absolutely accurate to the very half-quarter of a -hair’s-breadth.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,—and there is the chief wonder of your invention,” said El-Râmi -quietly. “It is that peculiarly precise calculation of yours that is -so marvellous, in that it enables you <i>to follow the course of -perpetual motion</i>. With perpetual motion itself you have nothing to -do,—you cannot find its why or its when or its how,—it is eternal as -Eternity. Things must move,—and we all move with them—your disc -included.” -</p> - -<p> -“But the moving things are balanced—so!” said Kremlin, pointing -triumphantly to his work—“On one point—one pivot!” -</p> - -<p> -“And that point——?” queried El-Râmi dubiously. -</p> - -<p> -“Is a Central Universe”—responded Kremlin—“where God abides.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him with dark, dilating, burning eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Suppose,” he said suddenly—“suppose—for the sake of argument—that -this Central Universe, you imagine exists, were but the outer covering -or shell of another Central Universe, and so on through innumerable -Central Universes for ever and ever and ever, and no point or pivot -reachable!” -</p> - -<p> -Kremlin uttered a cry, and clasped his hands with a gesture of terror. -</p> - -<p> -“Stop—stop!” he gasped—“Such an idea is frightful!—horrible! Would -you drive me mad?—mad, I tell you? No human brain could steadily -contemplate the thought of such pitiless infinity!” -</p> - -<p> -He sank back on the seat and rocked himself to and fro like a person -in physical pain, the while he stared at El-Râmi’s majestic figure -and dark meditative face as though he saw some demon in a dream. -El-Râmi met his gaze with a compassionate glance in his own eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“You are narrow, my friend,”—he observed—“as narrow of outward and -onward conception as most scientists are. I grant you the human brain -has limits; but the human Soul has none! There is no ‘pitiless -infinity’ to the Soul’s aspirations,—it is never contented,—but -eternally ambitious, eternally inquiring, eternally young, it is ready -to scale heights and depths without end, unconscious of fatigue or -satiety. What of a million million Universes? I—even I—can -contemplate them without dismay,—the brain may totter and reel at the -multiplicity of them,—but the <span class="sc">Soul</span> would absorb them all and yet -seek space for more!” -</p> - -<p> -His rich, deep, tranquil voice had the effect of calming Kremlin’s -excited nerves. He paused in his uneasy rocking to and fro, and -listened as though he heard music. -</p> - -<p> -“You are a bold man, El-Râmi,” he said slowly—“I have always said -it,—bold even to rashness. Yet with all your large ideas I find you -inconsistent; for example, you talk of the Soul now, as if you -believed in it,—but there are times when you declare yourself -doubtful of its existence.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is necessary to split hairs of argument with you, I see”—returned -El-Râmi with a slight smile,—“Can you not understand that I may -<i>believe</i> in the Soul without being sure of it? It is the natural -instinct of every man to credit himself with immortality, because this -life is so short and unsatisfactory,—the notion may be a fault of -heritage perhaps, still it is implanted in us all the same. And I do -believe in the Soul,—but I require certainty to make my mere belief -an undeniable fact. And the whole business of my life is to establish -that fact provably, and beyond any sort of doubt whatever,—what -inconsistency do you find there?” -</p> - -<p> -“None—none—” said Kremlin hastily—“But you will not succeed,—yours -is too daring an attempt,—too arrogant and audacious a demand upon -the unknown forces.” -</p> - -<p> -“And what of the daring and arrogance displayed here?” asked El-Râmi, -with a wave of his hand towards the glittering disc in front of them. -</p> - -<p> -Kremlin jumped up excitedly. -</p> - -<p> -“No, no!—you cannot call the mere scientific investigation of natural -objects arrogant,” he said—“Besides, the whole thing is so very -simple after all. It is well known that every star in the heavens -sends forth perpetual radiations of light; which radiations in a given -number of minutes, days, months, or years, reach our Earth. It depends -of course on the distance between the particular star and our planet, -as to how long these light-vibrations take to arrive here. One ray -from some stars will occupy thousands of years in its course,—in -fact, the original planet from which it fell may be swept out of -existence before it has time to penetrate our atmosphere. All this is -in the lesson-books of children, and is familiar to every beginner in -the rudiments of astronomy. But apart from time and distance, there is -<i>no cessation</i> to these light-beats or vibrations; they keep on -arriving for ever, without an instant’s pause. Now my great idea was, -as you know, to catch these reflexes on a mirror or dial of magnetic -spar,—and you see for yourself that this thing, which seemed -impossible, is to a certain extent done. Magnetic spar is not a new -substance to you, any more than it was to the Egyptian priests of -old—and the quality it has, of attracting light in its exact lines -wherever light falls, is no surprise to you, though it might seem a -marvel to the ignorant. Every little zigzag or circular flash on that -disc is a vibration of light from some star,—but what puzzles and -confounds my skill is this;—That there is a meaning in those lines—a -distinct meaning which asks to be interpreted,—a picture which is -ever on the point of declaring itself, and is never declared. Mine is -the torture of a Tantalus watching night after night that mystic -dial!” -</p> - -<p> -He went close up to the disc, and pointed out one particular spot on -its surface where at that moment there was a glittering tangle of -little prismatic tints. -</p> - -<p> -“Observe this with me—” he said, and El-Râmi approached him—“Here -is a perfect cluster of light-vibrations,—in two minutes by my watch -they will be here no longer,—and a year or more may pass before they -appear again. From what stars they fall, and why they have deeper -colours than most of the reflexes, I cannot tell. There—see!” and he -looked round with an air of melancholy triumph, mingled with wonder, -as the little spot of brilliant colour suddenly disappeared like the -moisture of breath from a mirror—“They are gone! I have seen them -four times only since the disc was balanced twelve years ago,—and I -have tried in every way to trace their origin—in vain—all, all in -vain! If I could only decipher the meaning!—for as sure as God lives -there is a meaning there.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi was silent, and Dr. Kremlin went on. -</p> - -<p> -“The air is a conveyer of Sound—” he said meditatively—“The light is -a conveyer of Scenes. Mark that well. The light may be said to create -landscape and generate Colour. Reflexes of light make -pictures,—witness the instantaneous flash, which, with the aid of -chemistry, will give you a photograph in a second. I firmly believe -that all reflexes of light are so many letters of a marvellous -alphabet, which, if we could only read it, would enable us to grasp -the highest secrets of creation. The seven tones of music, for -example, are in Nature;—in any ordinary storm, where there is wind -and rain and the rustle of leaves, you can hear the complete scale on -which every atom of musical composition has ever been written. Yet -what ages it took us to reduce that scale to a visible tangible -form,—and even now we have not mastered the <i>quarter-tones</i> heard in -the songs of birds. And just as the whole realm of music is in seven -tones of natural Sound, so the whole realm of light is in a pictured -language of Design, Colour, and Method, with an intention and a -message, which <i>we</i>—we human beings—are intended to discover. Yet, -with all these great mysteries waiting to be solved, the most of us -are content to eat and drink and sleep and breed and die, like the -lowest cattle, in brutish ignorance of more than half our intellectual -privileges. I tell you, El-Râmi, if I could only find out and place -correctly <i>one</i> of those light-vibrations, the rest might be easy.” -</p> - -<p> -He heaved a profound sigh,—and the great disc, circling steadily with -its grave monotonous hum, might have passed for the wheel of Fate -which he, poor mortal, was powerless to stop though it should grind -him to atoms. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi watched him with interest and something of compassion for a -minute or two,—then he touched his arm gently. -</p> - -<p> -“Kremlin, is it not time for you to rest?” he asked kindly—“You have -not slept well for many nights,—you are tired out,—why not sleep -now, and gather strength for future labours?” -</p> - -<p> -The old man started, and a slight shiver ran through him. -</p> - -<p> -“You mean——?” he began. -</p> - -<p> -“I mean to do for you what I promised—” replied El-Râmi, “You asked -me for this—” and he held up the gold-stoppered flask he had brought -in with him from the next room—“It is all ready prepared for -you—drink it, and to-morrow you will find yourself a new man.” -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Kremlin looked at him suspiciously—and then began to laugh with a -sort of hysterical nervousness. -</p> - -<p> -“I believe—” he murmured indistinctly and with affected -jocularity—“I believe that you want to poison me! Yes—yes!—to -poison me and take all my discoveries for yourself! You want to solve -the great Star-problem and take all the glory and rob me—yes, rob me -of my hard-earned fame!—yes—it is poison—poison!” -</p> - -<p> -And he chuckled feebly, and hid his face between his hands. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi heard him with an expression of pain and pity in his fine -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“My poor old friend—” he said gently—“You are wearied to death—so I -pardon you your sudden distrust of me. As for poison—see!” and he -lifted the flask he held to his lips and drank a few drops—“Have no -fear! Your Star-problem is your own,—and I desire that you should -live long enough to read its great mystery. As for me, I have other -labours;—to me stars, solar systems, ay! whole universes are -nothing,—my business is with the Spirit that dominates Matter—not -with Matter itself. Enough;—will you live or will you die? It rests -with yourself to choose—for you are ill, Kremlin—very ill,—your -brain is fagged and weak—you cannot go on much longer like this. Why -did you send for me if you do not believe in me?” -</p> - -<p> -The old Doctor tottered to the window-bench and sat down,—then -looking up, he forced a smile. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you see for yourself what a coward I have become?” he said—“I -tell you I am afraid of everything;—of you—of myself—and worst of -all, of <i>that</i>—” and he pointed to the disc—“which lately seems to -have grown stronger than I am.” He paused a moment—then went on with -an effort—“I had a strange idea the other night,—I thought, suppose -God, in the beginning, created the universe simply to divert -Himself—just as I created my dial there;—and suppose it had happened -that instead of being His servant, as He originally intended, it had -become His master?—that He actually had no more power over it? -Suppose He were <i>dead</i>? We see that the works of men live ages after -their death,—why not the works of God? Horrible—horrible! Death is -horrible! I do not want to die, El-Râmi!” and his faint voice rose to -a querulous wail, “Not yet—not yet! I cannot!—I must finish my -work—I must know—I must live——” -</p> - -<p> -“You shall live,” interrupted El-Râmi. “Trust me—there is no death -in <i>this</i>!” -</p> - -<p> -He held up the mysterious flask again. Kremlin stared at it, shaking -all over with nervousness—then on a sudden impulse clutched it. -</p> - -<p> -“Am I to drink it all?” he asked faintly. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi bent his head in assent. -</p> - -<p> -Kremlin hesitated a moment longer—then, with the air of one who takes -a sudden desperate resolve, he gave one eager yearning look at the -huge revolving disc, and, putting the flask to his lips, drained its -contents. He had scarcely swallowed the last drop, when he sprang to -his feet, uttered a smothered cry, staggered, and fell on the floor -motionless. El-Râmi caught him up at once, and lifted him easily in -his strong arms on to the window-seat, where he laid him down gently, -placing coverings over him and a pillow under his head. The old man’s -face was white and rigid as the face of a corpse, but he breathed -easily and quietly, and El-Râmi, knowing the action of the draught he -had administered, saw there was no cause for anxiety in his condition. -He himself leaned on the sill of the great open window and looked out -at the starlit sky for some minutes, and listened to the sonorous -plashing of the waves on the shore below. Now and then he glanced back -over his shoulder at the great dial and its shining star-patterns. -</p> - -<p> -“Only Lilith could decipher the meaning of it all,” he mused. -“Perhaps,—some day—it might be possible to ask her. But then, do I -in truth believe what she tells me?—would <i>he</i> believe? The -transcendentally uplifted soul of a woman!—ought we to credit the -message obtained through so ethereal a means? I doubt it. We men are -composed of such stuff that we must convince ourselves of a fact by -every known test before we finally accept it,—like St. Thomas, unless -we put our rough hand into the wounded side of Christ, and thrust our -fingers into the nail-prints, we will not believe. And I shall never -resolve myself as to which is the wisest course,—to accept everything -with the faith of a child, or dispute everything with the arguments of -a controversialist. The child is happiest; but then the question -arises—Were we meant to be happy? I think not,—since there is -nothing that can make us so for long.” -</p> - -<p> -His brow clouded and he stood absorbed, looking at the stars, yet -scarcely conscious of beholding them. Happiness! It had a sweet -sound,—an exquisite suggestion; and his thoughts clung round it -persistently as bees round honey. Happiness!—What could engender it? -The answer came unbidden to his brain—“Love!” He gave an involuntary -gesture of irritation, as though some one had spoken the word in his -ear. -</p> - -<p> -“Love!” he exclaimed half aloud. “There is no such thing—not on -earth. There is Desire,—the animal attraction of one body for -another, which ends in disgust and satiety. Love should have no touch -of coarseness in it,—and can anything be coarser than the -marriage-tie?—the bond which compels a man and woman to live together -in daily partnership of bed and board, and reproduce their kind like -pigs, or other common cattle. To call that <i>love</i> is a sacrilege to -the very name,—for Love is a divine emotion, and demands divinest -comprehension.” -</p> - -<p> -He went up to where Kremlin lay reclined,—the old man slept -profoundly and peacefully,—his face had gained colour and seemed less -pinched and meagre in outline. El-Râmi felt his pulse,—it beat -regularly and calmly. Satisfied with his examination, he wheeled away -the great telescope into a corner, and shut the window against the -night air,—then he lay down himself on the floor, with his coat -rolled under him for a pillow, and composed himself to sleep till -morning. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch11"> -XI. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">The</span> next day dawned in brilliant sunshine; the sea was as smooth as -a lake, and the air pleasantly warm and still. Dr. Kremlin’s servant -Karl got up in a very excellent humour,—he had slept well, and he -awoke with the comfortable certainty of finding his eccentric master -in better health and spirits, as this was always the case after one of -El-Râmi’s rare visits. And Karl, though he did not much appreciate -learning, especially when the pursuit of it induced people, as he -said, to starve themselves for the sake of acquiring wisdom, did feel -in his own heart that there was something about El-Râmi that was not -precisely like other men, and he had accordingly for him not only a -great attraction, but a profound respect. -</p> - -<p> -“If anybody can do the Herr Doctor good, he can—” he thought, as he -laid the breakfast-table in the little dining-room whose French -windows opened out to a tiny green lawn fronting the sea,—“Certainly -one can never cure old age,—that is an ailment for which there is no -remedy; but however old we are bound to get, I don’t see why we should -not be merry over it and enjoy our meals to the last. Now let me -see—what have I to get ready—” and he enumerated on his -fingers—“Coffee—toast—rolls,—butter—eggs—fish,—I think that -will do;—and if I just put these few roses in the middle of the table -to tempt the eye a bit,”—and he suited the action to the word—“There -now!—if the Herr Doctor can be pleased at all——” -</p> - -<p> -“Breakfast, Karl! breakfast!” interrupted a clear cheerful voice, the -sound of which made Karl start with nervous astonishment. “Make haste, -my good fellow! My friend here has to catch an early train.” -</p> - -<p> -Karl turned round, stared, and stood motionless, open-mouthed, and -struck dumb with sheer surprise. Could it be the old Doctor who spoke? -Was it his master at all,—this hale, upright, fresh-faced individual -who stood before him, smiling pleasantly and giving his orders with -such a brisk air of authority? Bewildered and half afraid, he cast a -desperate glance at El-Râmi, who had also entered the room, and who, -seeing his confusion, made him a secret sign. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—be as quick as you can, Karl,” he said. “Your master has had a -good night, and is much better, as you see. We shall be glad of our -breakfast; I told you we should, last night. Don’t keep us waiting!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, sir—no, sir!” stammered Karl, trying to collect his scattered -senses and staring again at Dr. Kremlin,—then, scarcely knowing -whether he was on his head or his heels, he scrambled out of the room -into the passage, where he stood for a minute stupefied and inert. -</p> - -<p> -“It must be devils’ work!” he ejaculated amazedly. “Who but the devil -could make a man look twenty years younger in a single night? -Yes—twenty years younger,—he looks that if he looks a day. God have -mercy on us!—what will happen next—what sort of a service have I got -into?—Oh, my poor mother!” -</p> - -<p> -This last was Karl’s supremest adjuration,—when he could find nothing -else to say, the phrase “Oh, my poor mother!” came as naturally to his -lips as the familiar “D——n it!” from the mouth of an old swaggerer -in the army or navy. He meant nothing by it, except perhaps a vague -allusion to the innocent days of his childhood, when he was ignorant -of the wicked ways of the wicked world, and when “Oh, my poor mother!” -had not the most distant idea as to what was going to become of her -hopeful first-born. -</p> - -<p> -Meantime, while he went down into the kitchen and bustled about there, -getting the coffee, frying the fish, boiling the eggs, and cogitating -with his own surprised and half-terrified self, Dr. Kremlin and his -guest had stepped out into the little garden together, and they now -stood there on the grass-plot surveying the glittering wide expanse of -ocean before them. They spoke not a word for some minutes,—then, all -at once, Kremlin turned round and caught both El-Râmi’s hands in his -own and pressed them fervently—there were tears in his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“What can I say to you?” he murmured in a voice broken by strong -emotion—“How can I thank you? You have been as a god to me;—I live -again,—I breathe again,—this morning the world seems new to my -eyes,—as new as though I had never seen it before. I have left a -whole cycle of years, with all their suffering and bitterness, behind -me, and I am ready now to commence life afresh.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is well!” said El-Râmi gently, cordially returning the pressure -of his hands. “That is as it should be. To see your strength and -vitality thus renewed is more than enough reward for me.” -</p> - -<p> -“And do I really <i>look</i> younger?—am I actually changed in -appearance?” asked Kremlin eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled. “Well, you saw poor Karl’s amazement”—he replied. -“He was afraid of you, I think—and also of me. Yes, you are changed, -though not miraculously so. Your hair is as gray as ever,—the same -furrows of thought are on your face;—all that has occurred is the -simple renewal of the tissues, and revivifying of the blood,—and this -gives you the look of vigour and heartiness you have this morning.” -</p> - -<p> -“But will it last?—will it last?” queried Kremlin anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -“If you follow my instructions, of course it will—” returned -El-Râmi—“I will see to that. I have left with you a certain quantity -of the vital fluid,—all you have to do is to take ten drops every -third night, or inject it into your veins if you prefer that -method;—then,—as I told you,—you cannot die, except by violence.” -</p> - -<p> -“And no violence comes here”—said Kremlin with a smile, glancing -round at the barren yet picturesque scene—“I am as lonely as an -unmated eagle on a rock,—and the greater my solitude the happier I -am. The world is very beautiful—that I grant,—but the beings that -inhabit it spoil it for me, albeit I am one of them. And so I cannot -die, except by violence? Almost I touch immortality! Marvellous -El-Râmi! You should be a king of nations!” -</p> - -<p> -“Too low a destiny!” replied El-Râmi—“I’d rather be a ruler of -planets.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, there is your stumbling-block!” said Kremlin, with sudden -seriousness,—“You soar too high—you are never contented.” -</p> - -<p> -“Content is impossible to the Soul”—returned El-Râmi,—“Nothing is -too high or too low for its investigation. And whatever <i>can</i> be done, -<i>should</i> be done, in order that the whole gamut of life may be -properly understood by those who are forced to live it.” -</p> - -<p> -“And do not you understand it?” -</p> - -<p> -“In part—yes. But not wholly. It is not sufficient to have traced the -ripple of a brain-wave through the air and followed its action and -result with exactitude,—nor is it entirely satisfactory to have all -the secrets of physical and mental magnetism, and attraction between -bodies and minds, made clear and easy without knowing the <i>reason</i> of -these things. It is like the light vibrations on your disc,—they -come—and go; but one needs to know why and whence they come and go. I -know much—but I would fain know more.” -</p> - -<p> -“But is not the pursuit of knowledge infinite?” -</p> - -<p> -“It may be—<i>if</i> infinity exists. Infinity is possible—and I believe -in it,—all the same I must prove it.” -</p> - -<p> -“You will need a thousand lifetimes to fulfil such works as you -attempt!” exclaimed Kremlin. -</p> - -<p> -“And I will live them all;”—responded El-Râmi composedly—“I have -sworn to let nothing baffle me, and nothing shall!” -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Kremlin looked at him in vague awe,—the dark, haughty, handsome -face spoke more resolvedly than words. -</p> - -<p> -“Pardon me, El-Râmi”—he said with a little diffidence—“It seems a -very personal question to put, and possibly you may resent it, still I -have often thought of asking it. You are a very handsome and very -fascinating man—you would be a fool if you were not perfectly aware -of your own attractiveness,—well, now tell me—have you never loved -anybody?—any woman?” -</p> - -<p> -The sleepy brilliancy of El-Râmi’s fine eyes lightened with sudden -laughter. -</p> - -<p> -“Loved a woman?—<i>I</i>?” he exclaimed—“The Fates forbid! What should I -do with the gazelles and kittens and toys of life, such as women are? -Of all animals on earth, they have the least attraction for me. I -would rather stroke a bird’s wings than a woman’s hair, and the -fragrance of a rose pressed against my lips is sweeter and more -sincere than any woman’s kisses. As the females of the race, women are -useful in their way, but not interesting at any time—at least, not to -me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you not believe in love then?” asked Kremlin. -</p> - -<p> -“No. Do you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,”—and Kremlin’s voice was very tender and impressive—“I believe -it is the only thing of God in an almost godless world.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“You talk like a poet. I, who am not poetical, cannot so idealise the -physical attraction between male and female, which is nothing but a -law of nature, and is shared by us in common with the beasts of the -field.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think your wisdom is in error there”—said Kremlin -slowly—“Physical attraction there is, no doubt—but there is -something else—something more subtle and delicate, which escapes the -analysis of both philosopher and scientist. Moreover it is an -imperative spiritual sense, as well as a material craving,—the soul -can no more be satisfied without love than the body.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is your opinion—” and El-Râmi smiled again,—“But you see a -contradiction of it in me. <i>I</i> am satisfied to be without love,—and -certainly I never look upon the ordinary woman of the day without the -disagreeable consciousness that I am beholding the living essence of -sensualism and folly.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are very bitter,” said Kremlin wonderingly—“Of course no -‘ordinary’ woman could impress you,—but there are remarkable -women,—women of power and genius and lofty ambition.” -</p> - -<p> -“Les femmes incomprises—oh yes, I know!” laughed -El-Râmi—“Troublesome creatures all, both to themselves and others. -Why do you talk on these subjects, my dear Kremlin?—Is it the effect -of your rejuvenated condition? I am sure there are many more -interesting matters worthy of discussion. I shall never love—not in -this planet; in some other state of existence I may experience the -‘divine’ emotion. But the meannesses, vanities, contemptible -jealousies, and low spites of women such as inhabit this earth fill me -with disgust and repulsion,—besides, women are treacherous,—and I -loathe treachery.” -</p> - -<p> -At that moment Karl appeared at the dining-room window as a sign that -breakfast was served, and they turned to go indoors. -</p> - -<p> -“All the same, El-Râmi—” persisted Kremlin, laying one hand on his -friend’s arm—“Do not count on being able to escape the fate to which -all humanity must succumb——” -</p> - -<p> -“Death?” interposed El-Râmi lightly—“I have almost conquered that!” -</p> - -<p> -“Ay, but you cannot conquer Love!” said Kremlin impressively—“Love is -stronger than Death.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi made no answer,—and they went in to breakfast. They did full -justice to the meal, much to Karl’s satisfaction, though he could not -help stealing covert glances at his master’s changed countenance, -which had become so much fresher and younger since the previous day. -How such a change had been effected he could not imagine, but on the -whole he was disposed to be content with the evident improvement. -</p> - -<p> -“Even if he is the devil himself—” he considered, his thoughts -reverting to El-Râmi—“I am bound to say that the devil is a -kind-hearted fellow. There’s no doubt about that. I suppose I am an -abandoned sinner only fit for the burning—but if God insists on -making us old and sick and miserable, and the devil is able to make us -young and strong and jolly, why let us be friends with the devil, say -I! Oh, my poor mother!” -</p> - -<p> -With such curious emotions as these in his mind, it was rather -difficult to maintain a composed face, and wait upon the two gentlemen -with that grave deportment which it is the duty of every well-trained -attendant to assume,—however, he managed fairly well, and got -accustomed at last to hand his master a cup of coffee without staring -at him till his eyes almost projected out of his head. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi took his departure soon after breakfast, with a few -recommendations to his friend not to work too hard on the problems -suggested by the disc. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, but I have now found a new clue,” said Kremlin triumphantly—“I -found it in sleep. I shall work it out in the course of a few weeks, I -daresay—and I will let you know if the result is successful. You see, -thanks to you, my friend, I have time now,—there is no need to toil -with feverish haste and anxiety—death, that seemed so near, is thrust -back in the distance——” -</p> - -<p> -“Even so!” said El-Râmi with a strange smile—“In the far, far -distance,—baffled and kept at bay. Oddly enough, there are some who -say there is no death——” -</p> - -<p> -“But there is—there must be!—” exclaimed Kremlin quickly. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi raised his hand with a slight commanding gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“It is not a certainty—” he said—“inasmuch as there is <span class="sc">no</span> -certainty. And there is no ‘Must-be,’—there is only the Soul’s -‘Shall-be’!” -</p> - -<p> -And with these somewhat enigmatical words he bade his friend farewell, -and went his way. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch12"> -XII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">It</span> was yet early in the afternoon when he arrived back in London. He -went straight home to his own house, letting himself in as usual with -his latch-key. In the hall he paused, listening. He half expected to -hear Féraz playing one of his delicious dreamy improvisations,—but -there was not a sound anywhere, and the deep silence touched him with -an odd sense of disappointment and vague foreboding. His study door -stood slightly ajar,—he pushed it wider open very noiselessly and -looked in. His young brother was there, seated in a chair near the -window, reading. El-Râmi gazed at him dubiously, with a slowly -dawning sense that there was some alteration in his appearance which -he could not all at once comprehend. Presently he realised that Féraz -had evidently yielded to some overwhelming suggestion of personal -vanity, which had induced him to put on more brilliant attire. He had -changed his plain white linen garb for one of richer material, -composed in the same Eastern fashion,—he wore a finely-chased gold -belt, from which a gold-sheathed dagger depended,—and a few gold -ornaments gleamed here and there among the drawn silken folds of his -upper vest. He looked handsome enough for a new Agathon as he sat -there apparently absorbed in study,—the big volume he perused resting -partly on his knee,—but El-Râmi’s brow contracted with sudden anger -as he observed him from the half-open doorway where he stood, himself -unseen,—and his dark face grew very pale. He threw the door back on -its hinges with a clattering sound and entered the room. -</p> - -<p> -“Féraz!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked up, lifting his eyelids indifferently and smiling -coldly. -</p> - -<p> -“What, El-Râmi! Back so early? I did not expect you till nightfall.” -</p> - -<p> -“Did you not?” said his brother, advancing slowly—“Pray how was that? -You know I generally return after a night’s absence early in the next -day. Where is your usual word of welcome? What ails you? You seem in a -very odd humour!” -</p> - -<p> -“Do I?”—and Féraz stretched himself a little,—rose, yawning, and -laid down the volume he held on the table—“I am not aware of it -myself, I assure you. How did you find your old madman? And did you -tell him you were nearly as mad as he?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi’s eyes flashed indignant amazement and wrath. -</p> - -<p> -“Féraz!—What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -With a fierce impulsive movement Féraz turned and fully faced -him,—all his forced and feigned calmness gone to the winds,—a -glowing picture of youth and beauty and rage commingled. -</p> - -<p> -“What do I mean?” he cried—“I mean this! That I am tired of being -your slave—your ‘subject’ for conjurer’s tricks of mesmerism,—that -from henceforth I resist your power,—that I will not serve you—will -not obey you—will not yield—no!—not an inch of my liberty—to your -influence,—that I am a free man, as you are, and that I will have the -full rights of both my freedom and manhood. You shall play no more -with me; I refuse to be your dupe as I have been. This is what I -mean!—and as I will have no deception or subterfuge between us,—for -I scorn a lie,—hear the truth from me at once;—I know your secret—I -have seen Her!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi stood erect,—immovable;—he was very pale; his breath came -and went quickly—once his hand clenched, but he said nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“I have seen Her!” cried Féraz again, flinging up his arms with an -ecstatic wild gesture—“A creature fairer than any vision!—and -you—you have the heart to bind her fast in darkness and in -nothingness,—you it is who have shut her sight to the world,—you -have made for her, through your horrible skill, a living death in -which she knows nothing, feels nothing, sees nothing, loves nothing! I -tell you it is a cursed deed you are doing,—a deed worse than -murder—I would not have believed it of you! I thought your -experiments were all for good,—I never would have deemed you capable -of cruelty to a helpless woman! But I will release her from your -spells,—she is too beautiful to be made her own living -monument,—Zaroba is right—she needs life—joy—love!—she shall have -them all;—through <i>me</i>!” -</p> - -<p> -He paused, out of breath with the heat and violence of his own -emotions;—El-Râmi stood, still immovably regarding him. -</p> - -<p> -“You may be as angered as you please”—went on Féraz with sullen -passion—“I care nothing now. It was Zaroba who bade me go up yonder -and see her where she slept; ... it was Zaroba——” -</p> - -<p> -“‘The woman tempted me and I did eat—’” quoted El-Râmi coldly,—“Of -course it was Zaroba. No other than a woman could thus break a sworn -word. Naturally it was Zaroba,—the paid and kept slave of my service, -who owes to me her very existence,—who persuaded my brother to -dishonour.” -</p> - -<p> -“Dishonour!” and Féraz laid his hand with a quick, almost savage -gesture on the hilt of the dagger at his belt. El-Râmi’s dark eyes -blazed upon him scornfully. -</p> - -<p> -“So soon a braggart of the knife?” he said. “What theatrical show is -this? You—you—the poet, the dreamer, the musician—the gentle lad -whose life was one of peaceful and innocent reverie—are you so soon -changed to the mere swaggering puppy of manhood who pranks himself out -in gaudy clothing, and thinks by vulgar threatening to overawe his -betters? If so, ’tis a pity—but I shall not waste time in deploring -it. Hear me, Féraz—I said ‘dishonour,’—swallow the word as best you -may, it is the only one that fits the act of prying into secrets not -your own. But I am not angered,—the mischief wrought is not beyond -remedy, and if it were there would be still less use in bewailing it. -What is done cannot be undone. Now tell me,—you say you have seen -Her. <i>Whom</i> have you seen?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz regarded him amazedly. -</p> - -<p> -“Whom have I seen?” he echoed—“Whom should I see, if not the girl you -keep locked in those upper rooms,—a beautiful maiden, sleeping her -life away, in cruel darkness and ignorance of all things true and -fair!” -</p> - -<p> -“An enchanted princess, to your fancy—” said El-Râmi derisively. -“Well, if you thought so, and if you believed yourself to be a new -sort of Prince Charming, why, if she were only sleeping, did you not -wake her?” -</p> - -<p> -“Wake her?” exclaimed Féraz excitedly.—“Oh, I would have given my -life to see those fringed lids uplift and show the wonders of the eyes -beneath! I called her by every endearing name—I took her hands and -warmed them in my own—I would have kissed her lips——” -</p> - -<p> -“You dared not!” cried El-Râmi, fired beyond his own control, and -making a fierce bound towards him—“You dared not pollute her by your -touch!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz recoiled,—a sudden chill ran through his blood. His brother -was transformed with the passion that surged through him,—his eyes -flashed—his lips quivered—his very form seemed to tower up and -tremble and dilate with rage. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi!” he stammered nervously, feeling all his newly-born -defiance and bravado oozing away under the terrible magnetism of this -man, whose fury was nearly as electric as that of a sudden -thunderstorm,—“El-Râmi, I did no harm,—Zaroba was there beside -me——” -</p> - -<p> -“Zaroba!” echoed El-Râmi furiously—“Zaroba would stand by and see an -angel violated, and think it the greatest happiness that could befall -her sanctity! To be of common clay, with household joys and kitchen -griefs, is Zaroba’s idea of noble living. Oh rash unhappy Féraz! you -say you know my secret—you do not know it—you cannot guess it! -Foolish, ignorant boy!—did you think yourself a new Christ with power -to raise the Dead?” -</p> - -<p> -“The dead?” muttered Féraz, with white lips—“The dead? She—the girl -I saw—lives and breathes ...” -</p> - -<p> -“By <i>my</i> will alone!” said El-Râmi—“By my force—by my knowledge—by -my constant watchful care,—by my control over the subtle threads that -connect Spirit with Matter. Otherwise, according to all the laws of -ordinary nature, that girl is <i>dead</i>—she died in the Syrian desert -six years ago!” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch13"> -XIII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">At</span> these words, pronounced slowly and with emphatic distinctness, -Féraz staggered back dizzily and sank into a chair,—drops of -perspiration bedewed his forehead, and a sick faint feeling overcame -him. He said nothing,—he could find no words in which to express his -mingled horror and amazement. El-Râmi watched him keenly,—and -presently Féraz, looking up, caught the calm, full, and fiery regard -of his brother’s eyes. With a smothered cry, he raised his hands as -though to shield himself from a blow. -</p> - -<p> -“I will not have it;”—he muttered faintly—“You shall not force my -thoughts,—I will believe nothing against my own will. You shall no -longer delude my eyes and ears—I have read—I know,—I know how such -trickery is done!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi uttered an impatient exclamation, and paced once or twice up -and down the room. -</p> - -<p> -“See here, Féraz;”—he said, suddenly stopping before the chair in -which his brother sat,—“I swear to you that I am not exercising one -iota of my influence upon you. When I do, I will tell you that you may -be prepared to resist me if you choose. I am using no power of any -kind upon you—be satisfied of that. But, as you have forced your way -into the difficult labyrinth of my life’s work, it is as well that you -should have an explanation of what seems to you full of mysterious -evil and black magic. You accuse me of wickedness,—you tell me I am -guilty of a deed worse than murder. Now this is mere rant and -nonsense,—you speak in such utter ignorance of the facts that I -forgive you, as one is bound to forgive all faults committed through -sheer want of instruction. I do not think I am a wicked man”—he -paused, with an earnest, almost pathetic expression on his face—“at -least I strive not to be. I am ambitious and sceptical—and I am not -altogether convinced of there being any real intention of ultimate -good in the arrangements of this world as they at present exist,—but -I work without any malicious intention; and without undue boasting I -believe I am as honest and conscientious as the best of my kind. But -that is neither here nor there,—as I said before, you have broken -into a secret not intended for your knowledge—and, that you may not -misunderstand me yet more thoroughly than you seem to do, I will tell -you what I never wished to bother your brains with. For you have been -very happy till now, Féraz—happy in the beautiful simplicity of the -life you led—the life of a poet and dreamer,—the happiest life in -the world!” -</p> - -<p> -He broke off, with a short sigh of mingled vexation and regret—then -he seated himself immediately opposite his brother and went on— -</p> - -<p> -“You were too young to understand the loss it was to us both when our -parents died,—or to know the immense reputation our father Nadir -Zarânos had won throughout the East for his marvellous skill in -natural science and medicine. He died in the prime of his life,—our -mother followed him within a month,—and you were left to my -charge,—you a child then, and I almost a man. Our father’s small but -rare library came into my possession, together with his own -manuscripts treating of the scientific and spiritual organisation of -Nature in all its branches,—and these opened such extraordinary -vistas of possibility to me, as to what might be done if such and such -theories could be practically carried out and acted upon, that I -became fired with the ardour of discovery. The more I studied, the -more convinced and eager I became in the pursuit of such knowledge as -is generally deemed supernatural, and beyond the reach of all human -inquiry. One or two delicate experiments in chemistry of a rare and -subtle nature were entirely successful,—and by and by I began to look -about for a subject on whom I could practise the power I had attained. -There was no one whom I could personally watch and surround with my -hourly influence except yourself,—therefore I made my first great -trial upon <i>you</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz moved uneasily in his chair,—his face wore a doubtful, -half-sullen expression, but he listened to El-Râmi’s every word with -vivid and almost painful interest. -</p> - -<p> -“At that time you were a mere boy—” pursued El-Râmi—“but strong and -vigorous, and full of the mischievous pranks and sports customary to -healthy boyhood. I began by slow degrees to educate you—not with the -aid of schools or tutors—but simply by my Will. You had a singularly -unretentive brain,—you were never fond of music—you would never -read,—you had no taste for study. Your delight was to ride—to swim -like a fish,—to handle a gun—to race, to leap,—to play practical -jokes on other boys of your own age and fight them if they resented -it;—all very amusing performances no doubt, but totally devoid of -intelligence. Judging you dispassionately, I found that you were a -very charming gamesome animal,—physically perfect—with a Mind -somewhere if one could only discover it, and a Soul or Spirit behind -the Mind—if one could only discover that also. I set myself the task -of finding out both these hidden portions of your composition—and of -not only finding them, but moulding and influencing them according to -my desire and plan.” -</p> - -<p> -A faint tremor shook the younger man’s frame—but he said nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“You are attending to me closely, I hope?” said El-Râmi -pointedly—“because you must distinctly understand that this -conversation is the first and last we shall have on the matter. After -to-day, the subject must drop between us for ever, and I shall refuse -to answer any more questions. You hear?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz bent his head. -</p> - -<p> -“I hear—” he answered with an effort—“And what I hear seems strange -and terrible!” -</p> - -<p> -“Strange and terrible?” echoed El-Râmi. “How so? What is there -strange or terrible in the pursuit of Wisdom? Yet—perhaps you are -right, and the blank ignorance of a young child is best,—for there -<i>is</i> something appalling in the infinitude of knowledge—an infinitude -which must remain infinite, if it be true that there is a God who is -for ever thinking, and whose thoughts become realities.” -</p> - -<p> -He paused, with a rapt look,—then resumed in the same even tone,— -</p> - -<p> -“When I had made up my mind to experimentalise upon you, I lost no -time in commencing my work. One of my chief desires was to avoid the -least risk of endangering your health—your physical condition was -admirable, and I resolved to keep it so. In this I succeeded. I made -life a joy to you—the mere act of breathing a pleasure—you grew up -before my eyes like the vigorous sapling of an oak that rejoices in -the mere expansion of its leaves to the fresh air. The other and more -subtle task was harder,—it needed all my patience—all my skill,—but -I was at last rewarded. Through my concentrated influence, which -surrounded you as with an atmosphere in which you moved, and slept, -and woke again, and which forced every fibre of your brain to respond -to mine, the animal faculties, which were strongest in you, became -subdued and tamed,—and the mental slowly asserted themselves. I -resolved you should be a poet and musician—you became both; you -developed an ardent love of study, and every few months that passed -gave richer promise of your ripening intelligence. Moreover, you were -happy,—happy in everything—happiest perhaps in your music, which -became your leading passion. Having thus, unconsciously to yourself, -fostered your mind by the silent workings of my own, and trained it to -grow up like a dower to the light, I thought I might make my next -attempt, which was to probe for that subtle essence we call the -Soul—the large wings that are hidden in the moth’s chrysalis;—and -influence that too;—but there—there, by some inexplicable opposition -of forces, I was baffled.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz raised himself half out of his chair, his lips parted in -breathless eagerness—his eyes dilated and sparkling. -</p> - -<p> -“Baffled?” he repeated hurriedly—“How do you mean?—in what way?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, in various ways—” replied El-Râmi, looking at him with a -somewhat melancholy expression—“Ways that I myself am not able to -comprehend. I found I could influence your Inner Self to obey me,—but -only to a very limited extent, and in mere trifles,—for example, as -you yourself know, I could compel you to come to me from a certain -distance in response to my thought,—but in higher things you escaped -me. You became subject to long trances,—this I was prepared for, as -it was partially my work,—and, during these times of physical -unconsciousness, it was evident that your Soul enjoyed a life and -liberty superior to anything these earth-regions can offer. But you -could never remember all you saw in these absences,—indeed, the only -suggestions you seem to have brought away from that other state of -existence are the strange melodies you play sometimes, and that idea -you have about your native Star.” -</p> - -<p> -A curious expression flitted across Féraz’s face as he heard—and his -lips parted in a slight smile, but he said nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“Therefore,”—pursued his brother meditatively—“as I could get no -clear exposition of other worlds from you, as I had hoped to do, I -knew I had failed to command you in a spiritual sense. But my -dominance over your mind continued; it continues still,—nay, my good -Féraz!”—this, as Féraz seemed about to utter some impetuous -word—“Pray that you may never be able to shake off my force -entirely,—for, if you do, you will lose what the people of a grander -and poetic day called Genius—and what the miserable Dry-as-Dusts of -our modern era call Madness—the only gift of the gods that has ever -served to enlighten and purify the world. But <i>your</i> genius, Féraz, -belongs to <i>me</i>;—I gave it to you, and I can take it back again if I -so choose;—and leave you as you originally were—a handsome animal -with no more true conception of art or beauty than my Lord Melthorpe, -or his spendthrift young cousin Vaughan.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz had listened thus far in silence—but now he sprang out of his -chair with a reckless gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot bear it!” he said—“I cannot bear it! El-Râmi, I cannot—I -will not!” -</p> - -<p> -“Cannot bear what?” inquired his brother with a touch of satire in his -tone—“Pray be calm!—there is no necessity for such melodramatic -excitement. Cannot bear what?” -</p> - -<p> -“I will not owe everything to you!” went on Féraz passionately—“How -can I endure to know that my very thoughts are not my own, but emanate -from you?—that my music has been instilled into me by you?—that you -possess me by your power, body and brain,—great Heaven! it is -awful—intolerable—impossible!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi rose and laid one hand gently on his shoulder—he recoiled -shudderingly—and the elder man sighed heavily. -</p> - -<p> -“You tremble at my touch,—” he said sadly—“the touch of a hand that -has never wilfully wrought you harm, but has always striven to make -life beautiful to you? Well!—be it so!—you have only to say the -word, Féraz, and you shall owe me nothing. I will undo all I have -done,—and you shall reassume the existence for which Nature -originally made you—an idle voluptuous wasting of time in sensualism -and folly. And even <i>that</i> form of life you must owe to Some -One,—even that you must account for—to God!” -</p> - -<p> -The young man’s head drooped,—a faint sense of shame stirred in him, -but he was still resentful and sullen. -</p> - -<p> -“What have I done to you,” went on El-Râmi, “that you should turn -from me thus, all because you have seen a dead woman’s face for an -hour? I have made your thoughts harmonious—I have given you pleasure -such as the world’s ways cannot give—your mind has been as a clear -mirror in which only the fairest visions of life were reflected. You -would alter this?—then do so, if you decide thereon,—but weigh the -matter well and long, before you shake off my touch, my tenderness, my -care.” -</p> - -<p> -His voice faltered a little—but he quickly controlled his emotion, -and continued— -</p> - -<p> -“I must ask you to sit down again and hear me out patiently to the end -of my story. At present I have only told you what concerns -yourself—and how the failure of my experiment upon the spiritual part -of your nature obliged me to seek for another subject on whom to -continue my investigations. As far as you are personally concerned, no -failure is apparent—for your spirit is allowed frequent intervals of -supernatural freedom, in which you have experiences that give you -peculiar pleasure, though you are unable to impart them to me with -positive lucidity. You visit a Star—so you say—with which you really -seem to have some home connection—but you never get beyond this, so -that it would appear that any higher insight is denied you. Now what I -needed to obtain was not only a higher insight, but the highest -knowledge that could possibly be procured through a mingled -combination of material and spiritual essences, and it was many a long -and weary day before I found what I sought. At last my hour came—as -it comes to all who have the patience and fortitude to wait for it.” -</p> - -<p> -He paused a moment—then went on more quickly— -</p> - -<p> -“You remember of course that occasion on which we chanced upon a party -of Arab wanderers who were journeying across the Syrian desert?—all -poor and ailing, and almost destitute of food or water?” -</p> - -<p> -“I remember it perfectly!” and Féraz, seating himself opposite his -brother again, listened with renewed interest and attention. -</p> - -<p> -“They had two dying persons with them,” continued El-Râmi—“An -elderly woman—a widow, known as Zaroba,—the other an orphan girl of -about twelve years of age named Lilith. Both were perishing of fever -and famine. I came to the rescue. I saved Zaroba,—and she, with the -passionate impulsiveness of her race, threw herself in gratitude at my -feet, and swore by all her most sacred beliefs that she would be my -slave from henceforth as long as she lived. All her people were dead, -she told me—she was alone in the world—she prayed me to let her be -my faithful servant. And truly, her fidelity has never failed—till -now. But of that hereafter. The child Lilith, more fragile of frame -and weakened to the last extremity of exhaustion—in spite of my -unremitting care—died. Do you thoroughly understand me—she <i>died</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“She died!” repeated Féraz slowly—“Well—what then?” -</p> - -<p> -“I was supporting her in my arms”—said El-Râmi, the ardour of his -description growing upon him, and his black eyes dilating and burning -like great jewels under the darkness of his brows—“when she drew her -last breath and sank back—a corpse. But before her flesh had time to -stiffen,—before the warmth had gone out of her blood,—an idea, wild -and daring, flashed across my mind. ‘If this child has a Soul,’ I said -to myself—‘I will stay it in its flight from hence! It shall become -the new Ariel of my wish and will—and not till it has performed my -bidding to the utmost extent will I, like another Prospero, give it -its true liberty. And I will preserve the body, its mortal shell, by -artificial means, that through its medium I may receive the messages -of the Spirit in mortal language such as I am able to understand.’ No -sooner had I conceived my bold project than I proceeded to carry it -into execution. I injected into the still warm veins of the dead girl -a certain fluid whose properties I alone know the working of—and then -I sought and readily obtained permission from the Arabs to bury her in -the desert, while they went on their way. They were in haste to -continue their journey, and were grateful to me for taking this office -off their hands. That very day—the day the girl died—I sent <i>you</i> -from me, as you know, bidding you make all possible speed, on an -errand which I easily invented, to the Brethren of the Cross in the -Island of Cyprus,—you went obediently enough,—surprised perhaps, but -suspecting nothing. That same evening, when the heats abated and the -moon rose, the caravan resumed its pilgrimage, leaving Lilith’s dead -body with me, and also the woman Zaroba, who volunteered to remain and -serve me in my tent, an offer which I accepted, seeing that it was her -own desire, and that she would be useful to me. She, poor silly soul, -took me then for a sort of god, because she was unable to understand -the miracle of her own recovery from imminent death, and I felt -certain I could rely upon her fidelity. Part of my plan I told -her,—she heard with mingled fear and reverence,—the magic of the -East was in her blood, however, and she had a superstitious belief -that a truly ‘wise man’ could do anything. So, for several days we -stayed encamped in the desert—I passing all my hours beside the dead -Lilith,—dead, but to a certain extent living through artificial -means. As soon as I received proof positive that my experiment was -likely to be successful, I procured means to continue my journey on to -Alexandria, and thence to England. To all inquirers I said the girl -was a patient of mine who was suffering from epileptic trances, and -the presence of Zaroba, who filled her post admirably as nurse and -attendant, was sufficient to stop the mouths of would-be -scandal-mongers. I chose my residence in London, because it is the -largest city in the world, and the one most suited to pursue a course -of study in, without one’s motives becoming generally known. One can -be more alone in London than in a desert if one chooses. Now, you know -all. You have seen the dead Lilith,—the human chrysalis of the -moth,—but there is a living Lilith too—the Soul of Lilith, which is -partly free and partly captive, but in both conditions is always the -servant of my Will!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked at him in mingled awe and fear. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi,”—he said tremulously—“What you tell me is -wonderful—terrible—almost beyond belief,—but, I know something of -your power and I must believe you. Only—surely you are in error when -you say that Lilith is dead? How can she be dead, if you have given -her life?” -</p> - -<p> -“Can you call that life which sleeps perpetually and will not wake?” -demanded El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“Would you have her wake?” asked Féraz, his heart beating quickly. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi bent his burning gaze upon him. -</p> - -<p> -“Not so,—for if she wakes, in the usual sense of waking—she dies a -second death from which there can be no recall. There is the terror of -the thing. Zaroba’s foolish teaching, and your misguided yielding to -her temptation, might have resulted in the fatal end to my life’s best -and grandest work. But—I forgive you;—you did not know,—and -she—she did not wake.” -</p> - -<p> -“She did not wake,” echoed Féraz softly. “No—but—she smiled!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi still kept his eyes fixed upon him,—there was an odd sense -of irritation in his usually calm and coldly balanced organisation—a -feeling he strove in vain to subdue. She smiled!—the exquisite -Lilith—the life-in-death Lilith smiled, because Féraz had called her -by some endearing name! Surely it could not be!—and, smothering his -annoyance, he turned towards the writing-table and feigned to arrange -some books and papers there. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi—” murmured Féraz again, but timidly—“If she was a child -when she died as you say—how is it she has grown to womanhood?” -</p> - -<p> -“By artificial vitality,”—said El-Râmi—“As a flower is forced under -a hothouse,—and with no more trouble, and less consciousness of -effort than a rose under a glass dome.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then she lives,—” declared Féraz impetuously. “She -lives,—artificial or natural, she <i>has</i> vitality. Through your power -she exists, and if you chose, oh, if you chose, El-Râmi, you could -wake her to the fullest life—to perfect consciousness,—to joy—to -love!—Oh, she is in a blessed trance—you cannot call her <i>dead</i>!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi turned upon him abruptly. -</p> - -<p> -“Be silent!” he said sternly—“I read your thoughts,—control them, if -you are wise! You echo Zaroba’s prating—Zaroba’s teaching. Lilith is -dead, I tell you,—dead to you,—and, in the sense <i>you</i> mean—dead to -me.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch14"> -XIV. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">After</span> this, a long silence fell between them. Féraz sat moodily in -his chair, conscious of a certain faint sense of shame. He was sorry -that he had wilfully trespassed upon his brother’s great secret,—and -yet there was an angry pride in him,—a vague resentment at having -been kept so long in ignorance of this wonderful story of -Lilith,—which made him reluctant to acknowledge himself in the wrong. -Moreover, his mind was possessed and haunted by Lilith’s face,—the -radiant face that looked like that of an angel sleeping,—and, -perplexedly thinking over all he had heard, he wondered if he would -ever again have the opportunity of beholding what had seemed to him -the incarnation of ideal loveliness. Surely yes!—Zaroba would be his -friend,—Zaroba would let him gaze his fill on that exquisite -form—would let him touch that little, ethereally delicate hand, as -soft as velvet and as white as snow! Absorbed in these reflections, he -scarcely noticed that El-Râmi had moved away from him to the -writing-table, and that he now sat there in his ebony chair, turning -over the leaves of the curious Arabic volume which Féraz had had such -trouble in deciphering on the previous day. The silence in the room -continued; outside there was the perpetual sullen roar of raging -restless London,—now and again the sharp chirruping of contentious -sparrows, arguing over a crumb of food as parliamentary agitators -chatter over a crumb of difference, stirred the quiet air. Féraz -stretched himself and yawned,—he was getting sleepy, and as he -realised this fact he nervously attributed it to his brother’s -influence, and sprang up abruptly, rubbing his eyes and pushing his -thick hair from his brows. At this hasty movement, El-Râmi turned -slowly towards him with a grave yet kindly smile. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, Féraz”—he said—“Do you still think me ‘wicked’ now you know -all? Speak frankly—do not be afraid.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz paused, irresolute. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not know what to think—” he answered hesitatingly,—“Your -experiment is of course wonderful,—but—as I said before—to me, it -seems terrible.” -</p> - -<p> -“Life is terrible—” said El-Râmi—“Death is terrible,—Love is -terrible,—God is terrible. All Nature’s pulses beat to the note of -Terror,—terror of the Unknown that May Be,—terror of the Known that -Is!” -</p> - -<p> -His deep voice rang with impressive solemnity through the room,—his -eyes were full of that strange lurid gleam which gave them the -appearance of having a flame behind them. -</p> - -<p> -“Come here, Féraz,” he continued—“Why do you stand at so cautious a -distance from me? With that brave show-dagger at your belt, are you a -coward? Silly lad!—I swear to you my influence shall not touch you -unless I warn you of it beforehand. Come!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz obeyed, but slowly and with an uncertain step. His brother -looked at him attentively as he came,—then, with a gesture indicating -the volume before him, he said— -</p> - -<p> -“You found this book on my table yesterday, and tried to read it,—is -it not so?” -</p> - -<p> -“I did.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, and have you learnt anything from it?” pursued El-Râmi with a -strange smile. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. I learnt how the senses may be deceived by trickery—” retorted -Féraz with some heat and quickness—“and how a clever -magnetiser—like yourself—may fool the eye and delude the ear with -sights and sounds that have no existence.” -</p> - -<p> -“Precisely. Listen to this passage;”—and El-Râmi read aloud—“‘The -King, when he had any affair, assembled the Priests without the City -Memphis, and the People met together in the streets of the said City. -Then they (the Priests) made their entrance one after another in -order, the drum beating before them to bring the people together; and -every one made some miraculous discovery of his Magick and Wisdom. One -had, <i>to their thinking who looked on him</i>, his face surrounded with a -light like that of the Sun, so that none could look earnestly upon -him. Another seemed clad with a Robe beset with precious stones of -divers colours, green, red, or yellow, or wrought with gold. Another -came mounted on a Lion compassed with Serpents like Girdles. Another -came in covered with a canopy or pavilion of Light. Another appeared -surrounded with Fire turning about him, so as that nobody durst come -near him. Another was seen with dreadful birds perching about his head -and shaking their wings like black eagles and vultures. In fine, every -one did what was taught him;—<i>yet all was but Apparition and Illusion -without any reality</i>, insomuch that when they came up to the King they -spake thus to him:—<i>You imagined that it was so and so,—but the -truth is that it was such or such a thing</i>.’<a href="#fn2b" id="fn2a">[2]</a> The A B C of -magnetism is contained in the last words—” continued El-Râmi, -lifting his eyes from the book,—“The merest tyro in the science knows -that; and also realises that the Imagination is the centre of both -physical and bodily health or disease. And did you learn nothing -more?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz made a half-angry gesture in the negative. -</p> - -<p> -“What a pity!”—and his brother surveyed him with good-humoured -compassion—“To know how a ‘miracle’ is done is one thing—but to do -it is quite another matter. Now let me recall to your mind what I -previously told you—that from this day henceforth I forbid you to -make any allusion to the subject of my work. I forbid you to mention -the name of Lilith,—and I forbid you to approach or to enter the room -where her body lies. You understand me?—I forbid you!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz’s eyes flashed angry opposition, and he drew himself up with a -haughty self-assertiveness. -</p> - -<p> -“You forbid me!” he echoed proudly—“What right have you to forbid me -anything? And how if I refuse to obey?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi rose and confronted him, one hand resting on the big Arabic -volume. -</p> - -<p> -“You will not refuse—” he said—“because I will take no refusal. You -will obey, because I exact your obedience. Moreover, you will swear by -the Most Holy Name of God, that you will never, either to me, or to -any other living soul, speak a syllable concerning my life’s greatest -experiment,—you will swear that the name of Lilith shall never pass -your lips——” -</p> - -<p> -But here Féraz interrupted him. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi, I will <i>not</i> swear!” he cried desperately—“The name of -Lilith is sweet to me!—why should I not utter it,—why should I not -sing of it—why should I not even remember it in my prayers?” -</p> - -<p> -A terrible look darkened El-Râmi’s countenance; his brows contracted -darkly, and his lips drew together in a close resolute line. -</p> - -<p> -“There are a thousand reasons why—” he said in low fierce -accents,—“One is, that the soul of Lilith and the body of Lilith are -<i>mine</i>, and that you have no share in their possession. She does not -need your songs—still less has she need of your prayers. Rash -fool!—you shall forget the name of Lilith—and you <i>shall</i> swear, as -I command you. Resist my will if you can,—now!—I warn you in time!” -</p> - -<p> -He seemed to grow in height as he spoke,—his eyes blazed ominously, -and Féraz, meeting that lightning-like glance, knew how hopeless it -would be for him to attempt to oppose such an intense force as was -contained in this man’s mysterious organisation. He tried his -best,—but in vain,—with every second he felt his strength oozing out -of him—his power of resistance growing less and less. -</p> - -<p> -“Swear!” said El-Râmi imperatively—“Swear in God’s Name to keep my -secret—swear by Christ’s Death!—swear on <i>this</i>!” -</p> - -<p> -And he held out a small golden crucifix. -</p> - -<p> -Mechanically, but still devoutly, Féraz instantly dropped on one -knee, and kissed the holy emblem. -</p> - -<p> -“I swear!” he said—but, as he spoke, the rising tears were in his -throat, and he murmured—“Forget the name of Lilith!—never!” -</p> - -<p> -“In God’s Name!” said El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“In God’s Name!” -</p> - -<p> -“By Christ’s Death!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz trembled. In the particular form of religion professed by -himself and his brother, this was the most solemn and binding vow that -could be taken. And his voice was faint and unsteady as he repeated -it— -</p> - -<p> -“By Christ’s Death!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi put aside the crucifix. -</p> - -<p> -“That is well;—” he said, in mild accents which contrasted agreeably -with his previous angry tone—“Such oaths are chronicled in heaven, -remember,—and whoever breaks his sworn word is accursed of the gods. -But you,—you will keep your vow, Féraz,—and ... you will also -forget the name of Lilith,—if I choose!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz stood mute and motionless,—he would have said something, but -somehow words failed him to express what was in his mind. He was -angry, he said to himself,—he had sworn a foolish oath against his -will, and he had every right to be angry—very angry,—but with whom? -Surely not with his brother—his friend,—his protector for so many -years? As he thought of this, shame and penitence and old affection -grew stronger and welled up in his heart, and he moved slowly towards -El-Râmi, with hands outstretched. -</p> - -<p> -“Forgive me;”—he said humbly. “I have offended you—I am sorry. I -will show my repentance in whatever way you please,—but do not, -El-Râmi—do not ask me, do not force me to forget the name of -Lilith,—it is like a note in music, and it cannot do you harm that I -should think of it sometimes. For the rest I will obey you -faithfully,—and, for what is past, I ask your pardon.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi took his hands and pressed them affectionately in his own. -</p> - -<p> -“No sooner asked than granted—” he said—“You are young, Féraz,—and -I am not so harsh as you perhaps imagine. The impulsiveness of youth -should always be quickly pardoned—seeing how gracious a thing youth -is, and how short a time it lasts. Keep your poetic dreams and -fancies—take the sweetness of thought without its bitterness,—and, -if you are content to have it so, let me still help to guide your -fate. If not, why, nothing is easier than to part company,—part as -good friends and brethren always,—you on your chosen road and I on -mine,—who knows but that after all you might n be happier so?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz lifted his dark eyes, heavy with unshed tears. -</p> - -<p> -“Would you send me from you?” he asked falteringly. -</p> - -<p> -“Not I! I would not send you,—but you might wish to go.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never!” said Féraz resolutely—“I feel that I must stay with -you—till the end.” -</p> - -<p> -He uttered the last words with a sigh, and El-Râmi looked at him -curiously. -</p> - -<p> -“Till the end?”—he repeated—“What end?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, the end of life or death or anything;” replied Féraz with forced -lightness—“There must surely be an end somewhere, as there was a -beginning.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is rather a doubtful problem!” said El-Râmi—“The great -question is, was there ever a Beginning? and will there ever be an -End?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz gave a languid gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“You inquire too far,”—he said wearily—“I always think you inquire -too far. I cannot follow you—I am tired. Do you want anything?—can I -do anything? or may I go to my room? I want to be alone for a little -while, just to consider quietly what my life is, and what I can make -of it.” -</p> - -<p> -“A truly wise and philosophical subject of meditation!” observed -El-Râmi, and he smiled kindly and held out his hand. Féraz laid his -own slender fingers somewhat listlessly in that firm warm -palm;—then—with a sudden start, looked eagerly around him. The air -seemed to have grown denser,—there was a delicious scent of roses in -the room, and hush! ... What entrancing voices were those that sang in -the distance? He listened absorbed;—the harmonies were very sweet and -perfect—almost he thought he could distinguish words. Loosening his -hand from his brother’s clasp, the melody seemed to grow fainter and -fainter,—recognising this, he roused himself with a quick movement, -his eyes flashing with a sudden gleam of defiance. -</p> - -<p> -“More magic music!” he said—“I hear the sound of singing, and you -<i>know</i> that I hear it! I understand!—it is <i>imagined</i> music—your -work, El-Râmi,—your skill. It is wonderful, beautiful,—and you are -the most marvellous man on earth!—you should have been a priest of -old Egypt! Yes—I am tired—I will rest;—I will accept the dreams you -offer me for what they are worth,—but I must remember that there are -realities as well as dreams,—and I shall not forget the name -of—Lilith!” -</p> - -<p> -He smiled audaciously, looking as graceful as a pictured Adonis in the -careless yet proud attitude he had unconsciously assumed,—then with a -playful yet affectionate salutation he moved to the doorway. -</p> - -<p> -“Call me if you want me,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“I shall not want you;”—replied his brother, regarding him steadily. -</p> - -<p> -The door opened and closed again,—Féraz was gone. -</p> - -<p> -Shutting up the great volume in front of him, El-Râmi rested his arms -upon it, and stared into vacancy with darkly-knitted brows. -</p> - -<p> -“What premonition of evil is there in the air?” he muttered—“What -restless emotion is at work within me? Are the Fates turning against -me?—and am I after all nothing but the merest composition of vulgar -matter—a weak human wretch capable of being swayed by changeful -passions? What is it? What am I that I should vex my spirit thus—all -because Lilith smiled at the sound of a voice that was not mine?” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch15"> -XV. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Just</span> then there came a light tap at his door. He opened it,—and -Zaroba stood before him. No repentance for her fault of disobedience -and betrayal of trust clouded that withered old face of hers,—her -deep-set dark eyes glittered with triumph, and her whole aspect was -one of commanding, and almost imperious, dignity. In fact, she made -such an ostentatious show of her own self-importance in her look and -manner that El-Râmi stared at her for a moment in haughty amazement -at what he considered her effrontery in thus boldly facing him after -her direct violation of his commands. He eyed her up and down—she -returned him glance for glance unquailingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Let me come in—” she said in her strong harsh voice—“I make no -doubt but that the poor lad Féraz has told you his story—now, as God -liveth, you must hear mine.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi turned upon his heel with a contemptuous movement, and went -back to his own chair by the writing-table. Zaroba, paying no heed to -the wrath conveyed by this mute action, stalked in also, and, shutting -the door after her, came and stood close beside him. -</p> - -<p> -“Write down what you think of me—” she said, pointing with her yellow -forefinger at the pens and paper—“Write the worst. I have betrayed my -trust. That is true. I have disobeyed your commands after keeping them -for six long years. True again. What else?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi fixed his eyes upon her, a world of indignation and reproach -in their brilliant depths, and snatching up a pencil he wrote on a -slip of paper rapidly— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“Nothing else—nothing more than treachery! You are unworthy of your -sacred task—you are false to your sworn fidelity.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -Zaroba read the lines as quickly as he wrote them, but when she came -to the last words she made a swift gesture of denial, and drew herself -up haughtily. -</p> - -<p> -“No—not false!” she said passionately—“Not false to <i>you</i>, El-Râmi, -I swear! I would slay myself rather than do you wrong. You saved my -life, though my life was not worth saving, and for that gentle deed I -would pour out every drop of my blood to requite you. No, no! Zaroba -is not false—she is true!” -</p> - -<p> -She tossed up her arms wildly,—then suddenly folding them tight -across her chest, she dropped her voice to a gentler and more -appealing tone. -</p> - -<p> -“Hear me, El-Râmi!—Hear me, wise man and Master of the magic of the -East!—I have done well for you;—well! I have disobeyed you for your -own sake,—I have betrayed my trust that you may discover how and -where you may find your best reward. I have sinned with the resolved -intent to make you happy,—as God liveth, I speak truth from my heart -and soul!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi turned towards her, his face expressing curiosity in spite of -himself. He was very pale, and outwardly he was calm enough—but his -nerves were on the rack of suspense—he wondered what sudden frenzied -idea had possessed this woman that she should comport herself as -though she held some strange secret of which the very utterance might -move heaven and earth to wonderment. Controlling his feelings with an -effort he wrote again— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“There exists no reason for disloyalty. Your excuses avail -nothing—let me hear no more of them. Tell me of Lilith—what news?” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -“News!” repeated Zaroba scornfully—“What news should there be? She -breathes and sleeps as she has breathed and slept always—she has not -stirred. There is no harm done by my bidding Féraz look on her,—no -change is wrought except in <i>you</i>, El-Râmi!—except in you!” -</p> - -<p> -Half springing from his chair he confronted her—then recollecting her -deafness, he bit his lips angrily and sank back again with an assumed -air of indifference. -</p> - -<p> -“You have heard Féraz—” pursued Zaroba, with that indescribable -triumph of hers lighting up her strong old face—“You must now hear -me. I thank the gods that my ears are closed to the sound of human -voices, and that neither reproach nor curse can move me to dismay. And -I am ignorant of <i>your</i> magic, El-Râmi,—the magic that chills the -blood and sends the spirit flitting through the land of dreams,—the -only magic <i>I</i> know is the magic of the heart—of the passions,—a -natural witchcraft that conquers the world!” -</p> - -<p> -She waved her arms to and fro—then crossing them on her bosom, she -made a profound half-mocking salutation. -</p> - -<p> -“Wise El-Râmi Zarânos!” she said. “Proud ruler of the arts and -sciences that govern Nature,—have you ever, with all your learning, -taken the measure of your own passions, and slain them so utterly that -they shall never rise up again? They sleep at times, like the serpents -of the desert, coiled up in many a secret place,—but at the touch of -some unwary heel, some casual falling pebble, they unwind their -lengths—they raise their glittering heads, and sting! I, Zaroba, have -felt them here”—and she pressed her hands more closely on her -breast—“I have felt their poison in my blood—sweet poison, sweeter -than life!—their stings have given me all the joy my days have ever -known. But it is not of myself that I should speak—it is of you—of -you, whose life is lonely, and for whom the coming years hold forth no -prospect of delight. When I lay dying in the desert and you restored -me to strength again, I swore to serve you with fidelity. As God -liveth, El-Râmi, I have kept my vow,—and in return for the life you -gave me I bid you take what is yours to claim—the love of Lilith!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi rose out of his chair, white to the lips, and his hand shook. -If he could have concentrated his inward forces at that moment, he -would have struck Zaroba dumb by one effort of his will, and so put an -end to her undesired eloquence,—but something, he knew not what, -disturbed the centre of his self-control, and his thoughts were in a -whirl. He despised himself for the unusual emotion which seized -him—inwardly he was furious with the garrulous old woman,—but -outwardly he could only make her an angry imperative sign to be -silent. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, I will not cease from speaking—” said Zaroba -imperturbably—“for all has to be said now, or never. The love of -Lilith! imagine it, El-Râmi!—the clinging of her young white -arms—the kisses of her sweet red mouth,—the open glances of her -innocent eyes—all this is yours, if you but say the word. Listen! For -six and more long years I have watched her,—and I have watched <i>you</i>. -She has slept the sleep of death-in-life, for you have willed it -so,—and in that sleep she has imperceptibly passed from childhood to -womanhood. You—cold as a man of bronze or marble,—have made of her -nothing but a ‘subject’ for your science,—and never a breath of love -or longing on your part, or even admiration for her beauty, has -stirred the virgin-trance in which she lies. And I have marvelled at -it—I have thought—and I have prayed;—the gods have answered me, and -now I know!” -</p> - -<p> -She clapped her hands ecstatically, and then went on. -</p> - -<p> -“The child Lilith died,—but you, El-Râmi, you caused her to live -again. And she lives still—yes, though it may suit your fancy to -declare her dead. She is a woman—you are a man;—you dare not keep -her longer in that living death—you dare not doom her to perpetual -darkness!—the gods would curse you for such cruelty, and who may -abide their curse? I, Zaroba, have sworn it—Lilith shall know the -joys of love!—and you, El-Râmi Zarânos, shall be her lover!—and -for this holy end I have employed the talisman which alone sets fire -to the sleeping passions...” and she craned her neck forward and -almost hissed the word in his ear—“Jealousy!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled—a cold derisive smile, which implied the most utter -contempt for the whole of Zaroba’s wild harangue. She, however, went -on undismayed, and with increasing excitement— -</p> - -<p> -“Jealousy!” she cried—“The little asp is in your soul already, proud -El-Râmi Zarânos, and why? Because another’s eyes have looked on -Lilith! This was my work! It was I who led Féraz into her -chamber,—it was I who bade him kneel beside her as she slept,—it was -I who let him touch her hand,—and though I could not hear his voice I -know he called upon her to awaken. In vain!—he might as well have -called the dead—I knew she would not stir for him—her very breath -belongs to you. But I—I let him gaze upon her beauty and worship -it,—all his young soul was in his eyes—he looked and looked again -and <i>loved</i> what he beheld! And mark me yet further, El-Râmi,—I saw -her smile when Féraz took her hand,—so, though she did not move, she -<i>felt</i>; she felt a touch that was not yours,—not yours, El-Râmi!—as -God liveth, she is not quite so much your own as once she was!” -</p> - -<p> -As she said this and laughed in that triumphant way, El-Râmi advanced -one step towards her with a fierce movement as though he would have -thrust her from the room,—checking himself, however, he seized the -pencil again and wrote— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“I have listened to you with more patience than you deserve. You are -an ignorant woman and foolish—your fancies have no foundation -whatever in fact. Your disobedience might have ruined my life’s -work,—as it is, I daresay some mischief has been done. Return to your -duties, and take heed how you trespass against my command in future. -If you dare to speak to me on this subject again I will have you -shipped back to your own land and left there, as friendless and as -unprovided for as you were when I saved you from death by famine. -Go—and let me hear no more foolishness.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -Zaroba read, and her face darkened and grew weary—but the pride and -obstinacy of her own convictions remained written on every line of her -features. She bowed her head resignedly, however, and said in slow -even tones— -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi Zarânos is wise,—El-Râmi Zarânos is master. But let him -remember the words of Zaroba. Zaroba is also skilled in the ways and -the arts of the East,—and the voice of Fate speaks sometimes to the -lowest as well as to the highest. There are the laws of Life and the -laws of Death—but there are also the laws of Love. Without the laws -of Love, the Universe would cease to be,—it is for El-Râmi Zarânos -to prove himself stronger than the Universe,—if he can!” -</p> - -<p> -She made the usual obsequious “salaam” common to Eastern races, and -then with a swift, silent movement left the room, closing the door -noiselessly behind her. El-Râmi stood where she had left him, idly -tearing up the scraps of paper on which he had written his part of the -conversation,—he was hardly conscious of thought, so great were his -emotions of surprise and self-contempt. -</p> - -<p> -“‘O what a rogue and peasant-slave am I!’” he muttered, quoting his -favourite <i>Hamlet</i>—“Why did I not paralyse her tongue before she -spoke? Where had fled my force,—what became of my skill? Surely I -could have struck her down before me with the speed of a -lightning-flash—only—she is a woman—and old. Strange how these -feminine animals always harp on the subject of love, as though it were -the Be-all and End-all of everything. The love of Lilith! Oh fool! The -love of a corpse kept breathing by artificial means! And what of the -Soul of Lilith? Can It love? Can It hate? Can It even feel? Surely -not. It is an ethereal transparency,—a delicate film which takes upon -itself the reflex of all existing things without experiencing personal -emotion. Such is the Soul, as I believe in it—an immortal Essence, in -itself formless, yet capable of taking all forms,—ignorant of the -joys or pains of feeling, yet reflecting all shades of sensation as a -crystal reflects all colours in the prism. This, and no more.” -</p> - -<p> -He paced up and down the room—and a deep involuntary sigh escaped -him. -</p> - -<p> -“No—” he murmured, as though answering some inward query—“No, I will -not go to her now—not till the appointed time. I resolved on an -absence of forty-eight hours, and forty-eight hours it shall be. Then -I will go,—and she will tell me all—I shall know the full extent of -the mischief done. And so Féraz ‘looked and looked again, and <i>loved</i> -what he beheld!’ Love! The very word seems like a desecrating blot on -the virgin soul of Lilith!” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch16"> -XVI. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Féraz</span> meanwhile was fast asleep in his own room. He had sought to -be alone for the purpose of thinking quietly and connectedly over all -he had heard,—but no sooner had he obtained the desired solitude than -a sudden and heavy drowsiness overcame him, such as he was unable to -resist, and, throwing himself on his bed, he dropped into a profound -slumber, which deepened as the minutes crept on. The afternoon wore -slowly away,—sunset came and passed,—the coming shadows lengthened, -and just as the first faint star peeped out in the darkening skies he -awoke, startled to find it so late. He sprang from his couch, -bewildered and vexed with himself,—it was time for supper, he -thought, and El-Râmi must be waiting. He hastened to the study, and -there he found his brother conversing with a gentleman,—no other than -Lord Melthorpe, who was talking in a loud cheerful voice, which -contrasted oddly with El-Râmi’s slow musical accents, that ever had a -note of sadness in them. When Féraz made his hurried entrance, his -eyes humid with sleep, yet dewily brilliant,—his thick dark hair -tangled in rough curls above his brows, Lord Melthorpe stared at him -in honestly undisguised admiration, and then glanced at El-Râmi -inquiringly. -</p> - -<p> -“My brother, Féraz Zarânos”—said El-Râmi, readily performing the -ceremony of introduction—“Féraz, this is Lord Melthorpe,—you have -heard me speak of him.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz bowed with his usual perfect grace, and Lord Melthorpe shook -hands with him. -</p> - -<p> -“Upon my word!” he said good-humouredly, “this young gentleman reminds -one of the <i>Arabian Nights</i>, El-Râmi! He looks like one of those -amazing fellows who always had remarkable adventures; Prince Ahmed, or -the son of a king, or something—don’t you know?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled gravely. -</p> - -<p> -“The Eastern dress is responsible for that idea in your mind, no -doubt—” he replied—“Féraz wears it in the house, because he moves -more easily and is more comfortable in it than in the regulation -British attire, which really is the most hideous mode of garb in the -world. Englishmen are among the finest types of the human race, but -their dress does them scant justice.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are right—we’re all on the same tailor’s pattern—and a -frightful pattern it is!” and his lordship put up his eyeglass to -survey Féraz once more, the while he thought—“Devilish handsome -fellow!—would make quite a sensation in the room—new sort of craze -for my lady.” Aloud he said—“Pray bring your brother with you on -Tuesday evening—my wife will be charmed.” -</p> - -<p> -“Féraz never goes into society—” replied El-Râmi—“But of course, -if you insist——” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I never insist—” declared Lord Melthorpe, laughing, “<i>You</i> are -the man for insisting, not I. But I shall take it as a favour if he -will accompany you.” -</p> - -<p> -“You hear, Féraz—” and El-Râmi looked at his brother -inquiringly—“Lord Melthorpe invites you to a great reception next -Tuesday evening. Would you like to go?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz glanced from one to the other half smilingly, half doubtfully. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I should like it,” he said at last. -</p> - -<p> -“Then we shall expect you,—” and Lord Melthorpe rose to take his -leave,—“It’s a sort of diplomatic and official affair—fellows will -look in either before or after the Foreign Office crush, which is on -the same evening, and orders and decorations will be in full force, I -believe. Oh, by the way, Lady Melthorpe begged me to ask you most -particularly to wear Oriental dress.” -</p> - -<p> -“I shall obey her ladyship;”—and El-Râmi smiled a little -satirically—the character of the lady in question was one that always -vaguely amused him. -</p> - -<p> -“And your brother will do the same, I hope?” -</p> - -<p> -“Assuredly!” and El-Râmi shook hands with his visitor, bidding Féraz -escort him to the door. When he had gone, Féraz sprang into the study -again with all the eager impetuosity of a boy. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it like—a reception in England?” he asked—“And why does -Lord Melthorpe ask me?” -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot imagine!” returned his brother drily—“Why do you want to -go?” -</p> - -<p> -“I should like to see life;”—said Féraz. -</p> - -<p> -“See life!” echoed El-Râmi somewhat disdainfully—“What do you mean? -Don’t you ‘see life’ as it is?” -</p> - -<p> -“No!” answered Féraz quickly—“I see men and women—but I don’t know -how they live, and I don’t know what they do.” -</p> - -<p> -“They live in a perpetual effort to out-reach and injure one -another”—said El-Râmi, “and all their forces are concentrated on -bringing themselves into notice. That is how they live,—that is what -they do. It is not a dignified or noble way of living, but it is all -they care about. You will see illustrations of this at Lord -Melthorpe’s reception. You will find the woman with the most diamonds -giving herself peacock-like airs over the woman who has fewest,—you -will see the snob-millionaire treated with greater consideration by -every one than the born gentleman who happens to have little of this -world’s wealth. You will find that no one thinks of putting himself -out to give personal pleasure to another,—you will hear the same -commonplace observations from every mouth,—you will discover a lack -of wit, a dearth of kindness, a scarcity of cheerfulness, and a most -desperate want of tact in every member of the whole fashionable -assemblage. And so you shall ‘see life’—if you think you can discern -it there. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof!—meanwhile let -us have supper,—time flies, and I have work to do to-night that must -be done.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz busied himself nimbly about his usual duties—the frugal meal -was soon prepared and soon dispensed with, and, at its close, the -brothers sat in silence, El-Râmi watching Féraz with a curious -intentness, because he felt for the first time in his life that he was -not quite master of the young man’s thoughts. Did he still remember -the name of Lilith? El-Râmi had willed that every trace of it should -vanish from his memory during that long afternoon sleep in which the -lad had indulged himself unresistingly,—but the question was now—Had -that force of will gained the victory? He, El-Râmi, could not -tell—not yet—but he turned the problem over and over in his mind -with sombre irritation and restlessness. Presently Féraz broke the -silence. Drawing from his vest pocket a small manuscript book, and -raising his eyes, he said— -</p> - -<p> -“Do you mind hearing something I wrote last night? I don’t quite know -how it came to me—I think I must have been dreaming——” -</p> - -<p> -“Read on;”—said El-Râmi—“If it be poesy, then its origin cannot be -explained. Were you able to explain it, it would become prose.” -</p> - -<p> -“I daresay the lines are not very good,”—went on Féraz -diffidently—“yet they are the true expression of a thought that is in -me. And whether I owe it to you, or to my own temperament, I have -visions now and then—visions not only of love, but of fame—strange -glories that I almost realise, yet cannot grasp. And there is a -sadness and futility in it all that grieves me ... everything is so -vague and swift and fleeting. Yet if love, as you say, be a mere -chimera,—surely there is such a thing as Fame?” -</p> - -<p> -“There is—” and El-Râmi’s eyes flashed, then darkened again—“There -is the applause of this world, which may mean the derision of the -next. Read on!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz obeyed. “I call it for the present ‘The Star of Destiny’”—he -said; and then his mellifluous voice, rich and well modulated, gave -flowing musical enunciation to the following lines: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“The soft low plash of waves upon the shore,</p> -<p class="i1">Mariners’ voices singing out at sea,</p> -<p class="i0">The sighing of the wind that evermore</p> -<p class="i1">Chants to my spirit mystic melody,—</p> -<p class="i0">These are the mingling sounds I vaguely hear</p> -<p class="i1">As o’er the darkening misty main I gaze,</p> -<p class="i0">Where one fair planet, warmly bright and clear,</p> -<p class="i1">Pours from its heart a rain of silver rays.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“O patient Star of Love! in yon pale sky</p> -<p class="i1">What absolute serenity is thine!</p> -<p class="i0">Beneath thy steadfast, half-reproachful eye</p> -<p class="i1">Large Ocean chafes,—and, white with bitter brine,</p> -<p class="i0">Heaves restlessly, and ripples from the light</p> -<p class="i1">To darker shadows,—ev’n as noble thought</p> -<p class="i0">Recoils from human passion, to a night</p> -<p class="i1">Of splendid gloom by its own mystery wrought.”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“What made you think of the sea?” interrupted El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked up dreamily. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know,”—he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Well!—go on!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz continued,— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“O searching Star, I bring my grief to thee,—</p> -<p class="i1">Regard it, Thou, as pitying angels may</p> -<p class="i0">Regard a tortured saint,—and, down to me</p> -<p class="i1">Send one bright glance, one heart-assuring ray</p> -<p class="i0">From that high throne where thou in sheeny state</p> -<p class="i1">Dost hang, thought-pensive, ’twixt the heaven and earth;</p> -<p class="i0">Thou, sure, dost know the secret of my Fate,</p> -<p class="i1">For thou didst shine upon my hour of birth.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“O Star, from whom the clouds asunder roll,</p> -<p class="i1">Tell this poor spirit pent in dying flesh,</p> -<p class="i0">This fighting, working, praying, prisoned soul,</p> -<p class="i1">Why it is trapped and strangled in the mesh</p> -<p class="i0">Of foolish Life and Time? Its wild young voice</p> -<p class="i1">Calls for release, unanswered and unstilled,—</p> -<p class="i0">It sought not out this world,—it had no choice</p> -<p class="i1">Of other worlds where glory is fulfilled.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“How hard to live at all, if living be</p> -<p class="i1">The thing it seems to us!—the few brief years</p> -<p class="i0">Made up of toil and sorrow, where we see</p> -<p class="i1">No joy without companionship of tears,—</p> -<p class="i0">What is the artist’s fame?—the golden chords</p> -<p class="i1">Of rapt musician? or the poet’s themes?</p> -<p class="i0">All incomplete!—the nailed-down coffin boards</p> -<p class="i1">Are mocking sequels to the grandest dreams.”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“That is not your creed,”—said El-Râmi with a searching look. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz sighed. “No—it is not my actual creed—but it is my frequent -thought.” -</p> - -<p> -“A thought unworthy of you,”—said his brother—“There is nothing left -‘incomplete’ in the whole Universe—and there is no sequel possible to -Creation.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps not,—but again perhaps there may be a sequel beyond all -imagination or comprehension. And surely you must admit that some -things are left distressingly incomplete. Shelley’s ‘Fragments’ for -instance, Keats’s ‘Hyperion’—Schubert’s ‘Unfinished’ Symphony——” -</p> - -<p> -“Incomplete <i>here</i>—yes—;” agreed El-Râmi—“But—finished elsewhere, -as surely as day is day, and night is night. There is nothing -lost,—no, not so much as the lightest flicker of a thought in a man’s -brain,—nothing wasted or forgotten,—not even so much as an idle -word. <i>We</i> forget—but the forces of Nature are non-oblivious. All is -chronicled and registered—all is scientifically set down in plain -figures that no mistake may be made in the final reckoning.” -</p> - -<p> -“You really think that?—you really believe that?” asked Féraz, his -eyes dilating eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -“I do, most positively;”—said El-Râmi—“It is a fact which Nature -most potently sets forth, and insists upon. But is there no more of -your verse?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—” and Féraz read on— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“O, we are sorrowful, my Soul and I:</p> -<p class="i1">We war together fondly—yet we pray</p> -<p class="i0">For separate roads,—the Body fain would die</p> -<p class="i1">And sleep i’ the ground, low-hidden from the day—</p> -<p class="i0">The Soul erect, its large wings cramped for room,</p> -<p class="i1">Doth pantingly and passionately rebel,</p> -<p class="i0">Against this strange, uncomprehended doom</p> -<p class="i1">Called Life, where nothing is, or shall be well.”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“Good!”—murmured El-Râmi softly—“Good—and true!” -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“Hear me, my Star!—star of my natal hour,</p> -<p class="i1">Thou calm unmovëd one amid all clouds!</p> -<p class="i0">Give me my birth-right,—the imperial sway</p> -<p class="i1">Of Thought supreme above the common crowds,—</p> -<p class="i0">O let me feel thy swift compelling beam</p> -<p class="i1">Drawing me upwards to a goal divine;</p> -<p class="i0">Fulfil thy promise, O thou glittering Dream,</p> -<p class="i1">And let one crown of victory be mine.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“Let me behold this world recede and pass</p> -<p class="i1">Like shifting mist upon a stormy coast</p> -<p class="i0">Or vision in a necromancer’s glass;—</p> -<p class="i1">For I, ’mid perishable earth can boast</p> -<p class="i0">Of proven Immortality,—can reach</p> -<p class="i1">Glories ungrasped by minds of lower tone;—</p> -<p class="i0">Thus, in a silence vaster than all speech,</p> -<p class="i1">I follow thee, my Star of Love, alone!”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -He ceased. El-Râmi, who had listened attentively, resting his head on -one hand, now lifted his eyes and looked at his young brother with an -expression of mingled curiosity and compassion. -</p> - -<p> -“The verses are good;”—he said at last—“good and perfectly -rhythmical, but surely they have a touch of arrogance?— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i2">“‘I, ’mid perishable earth can boast</p> -<p class="i0">Of proven Immortality.’</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -What do you mean by ‘proven’ Immortality? Where are your proofs?” -</p> - -<p> -“I have them in my inner consciousness;” replied Féraz slowly—“But -to put them into the limited language spoken by mortals is impossible. -There are existing emotions—existing facts, which can never be -rendered into common speech. God is a Fact—but He cannot be explained -or described.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi was silent,—a slight frown contracted his dark even brows. -</p> - -<p> -“You are beginning to think too much,”—he observed, rising from his -chair as he spoke—“Do not analyse yourself, Féraz, ... self-analysis -is the temper of the age, but it engenders distrust and sorrow. Your -poem is excellent, but it breathes of sadness,—I prefer your ‘star’ -songs which are so full of joy. To be wise is to be happy,—to be -happy is to be wise——” -</p> - -<p> -A loud rat-tat at the street door interrupted him. Féraz sprang up to -answer the imperative summons, and returned with a telegram. El-Râmi -opened and read it with astonished eyes, his face growing suddenly -pale. -</p> - -<p> -“He will be here to-morrow night!” he ejaculated in a -whisper—“To-morrow night! He, the saint—the king—here to-morrow -night! Why should he come?—What would he have with me?” -</p> - -<p> -His expression was one of dazed bewilderment, and Féraz looked at him -inquiringly. -</p> - -<p> -“Any bad news?” he asked—“Who is it that is coming?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi recollected himself, and, folding up the telegram, thrust it -in his breast pocket. -</p> - -<p> -“A poor monk who is travelling hither on a secret mission solicits my -hospitality for the night”—he replied hurriedly—“That is all. He -will be here to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz stood silent, an incredulous smile in his fine eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Why should you stoop to deceive me, El-Râmi, my brother?” he said -gently at last—“Surely it is not one of your ways to perfection? Why -try to disguise the truth from me?—I am not of a treacherous nature. -If I guess rightly, this ‘poor monk’ is the Supreme Head of the -Brethren of the Cross, from whose mystic band you were dismissed for a -breach of discipline. What harm is there in my knowing of this?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi’s hand clenched, and his eyes had that dark and terrible look -in them that Féraz had learned to fear, but his voice was very calm. -</p> - -<p> -“Who told you?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“One of the monks at Cyprus long ago, when I went on your -errand”—replied Féraz; “He spoke of your wisdom, your power, your -brilliant faculties, in genuine regret that, all for some slight -matter in which you would not bend your pride, you had lost touch with -their various centres of action in all parts of the globe. He said no -more than this,—and no more than this I know.” -</p> - -<p> -“You know quite enough,”—said El-Râmi quietly—“If I <i>have</i> lost -touch with their modes of work, I have gained insight beyond their -reach. And,—I am sorry I did not at once say the truth to you—it -<i>is</i> their chief leader who comes here to-morrow. No doubt,”—and he -smiled with a sense of triumph—“no doubt he seeks for fresh -knowledge, such as I alone can give him.” -</p> - -<p> -“I thought,” said Féraz in a low half-awed tone,—“that he was one of -those who are wise with the wisdom of the angels?” -</p> - -<p> -“If there <i>are</i> angels!” said El-Râmi with a touch of scorn, “He is -wise in faith alone—he believes and he imagines,—and there is no -question as to the strange power he has obtained through the simplest -means,—but I—I have no faith!—I seek to <i>prove</i>—I work to -<i>know</i>,—and my power is as great as his, though it is won in a -different way.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz said nothing, but sat down to the piano, allowing his hands to -wander over the keys in a dreamy fashion that sounded like the far-off -echo of a rippling mountain stream. El-Râmi waited a moment, -listening,—then glanced at his watch—it was growing late. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-night, Féraz;”—he said in gentle accents—“I shall want -nothing more this evening. I am going to my work.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good-night,”—answered Féraz with equal gentleness, as he went on -playing. His brother opened and closed the door softly;—he was gone. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as he found himself alone, Féraz pressed the pedal of his -instrument so that the music pealed through the room in rich salvos of -sound—chord after chord rolled grandly forth, and sweet ringing notes -came throbbing from under his agile finger-tips, the while he said -aloud, with a mingling of triumph and tenderness— -</p> - -<p> -“Forget! I shall never forget! Does one forget the flowers, the birds, -the moonlight, the sound of a sweet song? Is the world so fair that I -should blot from my mind the fairest thing in it? Not so! My memory -may fail me in a thousand things—but let me be tortured, harassed, -perplexed with dreams, persuaded by fantasies, I shall never forget -the name of——” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped abruptly—a look of pain and terror and effort flashed into -his eyes,—his hands fell on the keys of the piano with a discordant -jangle,—he stared about him, wondering and afraid. -</p> - -<p> -“The name—the name!” he muttered hoarsely—“A flower’s name—an -angel’s name—the sweetest name I ever heard! How is this?—Am I mad -that my lips refuse to utter it? The name—the name of ... My God! my -God! I <i>have</i> forgotten it!” -</p> - -<p> -And springing from his chair he stood for one instant in mute wrath, -incredulity, and bewilderment,—then throwing himself down again, he -buried his face in his hands, his whole frame trembling with mingled -terror and awe at the mystic power of El-Râmi’s indomitable Will, -which had, he knew, forced him to forget what most he desired to -remember. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch17"> -XVII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Within</span> the chamber of Lilith all was very still. Zaroba sat there, -crouched down in what seemed to be her favourite and accustomed -corner, busy with the intricate thread-work which she wove with so -much celerity;—the lamp burned brightly,—there were odours of -frankincense and roses in the air,—and not so much as the sound of a -suppressed sigh or soft breath stirred the deep and almost sacred -quiet of the room. The tranced Lilith herself, pale but beautiful, lay -calm and still as ever among the glistening satin cushions of her -costly couch, and, just above her, the purple draperies that covered -the walls and ceiling were drawn aside to admit of the opening of a -previously-concealed window, through which one or two stars could be -seen dimly sparkling in the skies. A white moth, attracted by the -light, had flown in by way of this aperture, and was now fluttering -heedlessly and aimlessly round the lamp,—but by and by it took a -lower and less hazardous course, and finally settled on a shining -corner of the cushion that supported Lilith’s head. There the fragile -insect rested,—now expanding its velvety white wings, now folding -them close and extending its delicate feelers to touch and test the -glittering fabric on which it found itself at ease,—but never moving -from the spot it had evidently chosen for its night’s repose. -Suddenly, and without sound, El-Râmi entered. He advanced close up to -the couch, and looked upon the sleeping girl with an eager, almost -passionate intentness. His heart beat quickly;—a singular excitement -possessed him, and for once he was unable to analyse his own -sensations. Closer and closer he bent over Lilith’s exquisite -form,—doubtfully and with a certain scorn of himself, he took up a -shining tress of her glorious hair and looked at it curiously as -though it were something new, strange, or unnatural. The little moth, -disturbed, flew off the pillow and fluttered about his head in wild -alarm, and El-Râmi watched its reckless flight as it made off towards -the fatally-attractive lamp again, with meditative eyes, still -mechanically stroking that soft lock of Lilith’s hair which he held -between his fingers. -</p> - -<p> -“Into the light!” he murmured—“Into the very heart of the -light!—into the very core of the fire! That is the end of all -ambition—to take wings and plunge so—into the glowing, burning -molten Creative Centre—and die for our foolhardiness? Is that -all?—or is there more behind? It is a question,—who may answer it?” -</p> - -<p> -He sighed heavily, and leaned more closely over the couch, till the -soft scarcely perceptible breath from Lilith’s lips touched his cheek -warmly like a caress. Observantly, as one might study the parts of a -bird or a flower, he noted those lips, how delicately curved, how -coral-red they were,—and what a soft rose-tint, like the flush of a -pink sunrise on white flowers, was the hue which spread itself -waveringly over her cheeks,—till there,—there where the long -eyelashes curled upwards, there were fine shadows,—shadows which -suggested light,—such light as must be burning in those -sweetly-closed eyes. Then there was the pure, smooth brow, over which -little vine-like tendrils of hair caught and clung amorously,—and -then—that wondrous wealth of the hair itself which, like twin showers -of gold, shed light on either side. It was all beautiful,—a wonderful -gem of Nature’s handiwork,—a masterpiece of form and colour which, -but for him, El-Râmi, would long ere this have mouldered away to -unsightly ash and bone, in a lonely grave dug hurriedly among the -sands of the Syrian desert. He was almost, if not quite, the author of -that warm if unnatural vitality that flowed through those azure veins -and branching arteries,—he, like the Christ of Galilee, had raised -the dead to life,—ay, if he chose, he could say as the Master said to -the daughter of Jairus, “Maiden, arise!” and she would obey him—would -rise and walk, and smile and speak, and look upon the world,—if he -chose! The arrogance of Will burned in his brain;—the pride of power, -the majesty of conscious strength made his pulses beat high with -triumph beyond that of any king or emperor,—and he gazed down upon -the tranced fair form, himself entranced, and all unconscious that -Zaroba had come out of her corner, and that she now stood beside him, -watching his face with passionate and inquisitive eagerness. Just as -he reluctantly lifted himself up from his leaning position he saw her -staring at him, and a frown darkened his brows. He made his usual -imperative sign to her to leave the room,—a sign she was accustomed -to understand and to obey—but this time she remained motionless, -fixing her eyes steadily upon him. -</p> - -<p> -“The conqueror shall be conquered, El-Râmi Zarânos—” she said -slowly, pointing to the sleeping Lilith—“The victorious master over -the forces unutterable shall yet be overthrown! The work has -begun,—the small seed has been sown—the great harvest shall be -reaped. For in the history of Heaven itself certain proud angels rose -up and fought for the possession of supreme majesty and power—and -they fell,—downbeaten to the darkness,—unforgiven, and are they not -in darkness still? Even so must the haughty spirit fall that contends -against God and the Universal Law.” -</p> - -<p> -She spoke impressively, and with a certain dignity of manner that gave -an added force to her words,—but El-Râmi’s impassive countenance -showed no sign of having either heard or understood her. He merely -repeated his gesture of dismissal, and this time Zaroba obeyed it. -Wrapping her flowing robe closely about her, she withdrew, but with -evident reluctance, letting the velvet portière fall only by slow -degrees behind her, and to the last keeping her dark deep-set eyes -fixed on El-Râmi’s face. As soon as she had disappeared, he sprang to -where the dividing-curtain hid a massive door between the one room and -the ante-chamber,—this door he shut and locked,—then he returned to -the couch, and proceeded, according to his usual method, to will the -wandering spirit of his “subject” into speech. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! Lilith!” -</p> - -<p> -As before, he had to wait ere any reply was vouchsafed to him. -Impatiently he glanced at the clock, and counted slowly a hundred -beats. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith!” -</p> - -<p> -She turned round towards him, smiled, and murmured something—her lips -moved, but whatever they uttered did not reach his ear. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! Where are you?” -</p> - -<p> -This time, her voice, though soft, was perfectly distinct. -</p> - -<p> -“Here. Close to you, with your hand on mine.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi was puzzled. True, he held her left hand in his own, but she -had never described any actual sensation of human touch before. -</p> - -<p> -“Then,—can you see me?” he asked somewhat anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -The answer came sadly. -</p> - -<p> -“No. Bright air surrounds me, and the colours of the air—nothing -more.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are alone, Lilith?” -</p> - -<p> -Oh, what a sigh came heaving from her breast! -</p> - -<p> -“I am always alone!” -</p> - -<p> -Half remorseful, he heard her. She had complained of solitude -before,—and it was a thought he did not wish her to dwell upon. He -made haste to speak again. -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me,”—he said—“Where have you been, Lilith, and what have you -seen?” -</p> - -<p> -There was silence for a minute or two, and she moved restlessly. -</p> - -<p> -“You bade me seek out Hell for you”—she murmured at last—“I have -searched, but I cannot find it.” -</p> - -<p> -Another pause, and she went on. -</p> - -<p> -“You spoke of a strange thing,” she said—“A place of punishment, of -torture, of darkness, of horror and despair,—there is no such dreary -blot on all God’s fair Creation. In all the golden spaces of the -farthest stars I find no punishment, no pain, no darkness. I can -discover nothing save beauty, light, and—Love!” -</p> - -<p> -The last word was uttered softly, and sounded like a note of music, -sweet but distant. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi listened, bewildered, and in a manner disappointed. -</p> - -<p> -“O Lilith, take heed what you say!” he exclaimed with some -passion—“No pain?—no punishment? no darkness? Then this world is -Hell and you know naught of it!” -</p> - -<p> -As he said this, she moved uneasily among her pillows,—then, to his -amazement, she suddenly sat up of her own accord, and went on -speaking, enunciating her words with singular clearness and emphasis, -always keeping her eyes closed and allowing her left hand to remain in -his. -</p> - -<p> -“I am bound to tell you what I know;”—she said—“But I am unable to -tell you what is not true. In God’s design I find no evil—no -punishment, no death. If there are such things, they must be in your -world alone,—they must be Man’s work and Man’s imagining.” -</p> - -<p> -“Man’s work—Man’s imagining?” repeated El-Râmi—“And what is man?” -</p> - -<p> -“God’s angel,” replied Lilith quickly—“With God’s own attribute of -Free-Will. He, like his Maker, doth create,—he also doth -destroy,—what he elects to do, God will not prevent. Therefore, if -Man makes Evil, Evil must exist till Man himself destroys it.” -</p> - -<p> -This was a deep and strange saying, and El-Râmi pondered over it -without speaking. -</p> - -<p> -“In the spaces where I roam,” went on Lilith softly—“there is no -evil. Those who are the Makers of Life in yonder fair regions seek -only what is pure. Why should pain exist, or sin be known? I do not -understand.” -</p> - -<p> -“No”—said El-Râmi bitterly—“You do not understand, because you are -yourself too happy,—happiness sees no fault in anything. Oh, you have -wandered too far from earth and you forget! The tie that binds you to -this planet is over-fragile,—you have lost touch with pain. I would -that I could make you feel my thoughts!—for, Lilith, God is cruel, -not kind, ... upon God, and God alone, rests the weight of woe that -burdens the universe, and for the eternal sorrow of things there is -neither reason nor remedy.” -</p> - -<p> -Lilith sank back again in a recumbent posture, a smile upon her lips. -</p> - -<p> -“O poor blind eyes!” she murmured—“Sad eyes that are so tired—too -tired to bear the light!” -</p> - -<p> -Her voice was so exquisitely pathetic that he was startled by its very -gentleness,—his heart gave one fierce bound against his side, and -then seemed almost to stand still. -</p> - -<p> -“You pity me?” he asked tremulously. -</p> - -<p> -She sighed. “I pity you”—she answered—“I pity myself.” -</p> - -<p> -Almost breathlessly he asked “Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because I cannot see you—because you cannot see me. If I could see -you—if you could see me as I am, you would know all—you would -understand all.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do see you, Lilith,” he said—“I hold your hand.” -</p> - -<p> -“No—not my real hand”—she said—“Only its shadow.” -</p> - -<p> -Instinctively he looked at the delicate fingers that lay in his -palm—so rosy-tipped and warm. Only the “shadow” of a hand! Then where -was its substance? -</p> - -<p> -“It will pass away”—went on Lilith—“like all shadows—but <i>I</i> shall -remain—not here, not here,—but elsewhere. When will you let me go?” -</p> - -<p> -“Where do you wish to go?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“To my friends,” she answered swiftly and with eagerness—“They call -me often—I hear their voices singing ‘Lilith! Lilith!’ and sometimes -I see them beckoning me—but I cannot reach them. It is cruel, for -they love me and you do not,—why will you keep me here unloved so -long?” -</p> - -<p> -He trembled and hesitated, fixing his dark eyes on the fair face, -which, in spite of its beauty, was to him but as the image of a Sphinx -that for ever refused to give up its riddle. -</p> - -<p> -“Is love your craving, Lilith?” he asked slowly—“And what is your -thought—or dream—of love?” -</p> - -<p> -“Love is no dream;”—she responded—“Love is reality—Love is Life. I -am not fully living yet—I hover in the Realms Between, where spirits -wait in silence and alone.” -</p> - -<p> -He sighed. “Then you are sad, Lilith?” -</p> - -<p> -“No. I am never sad. There is light within my solitude, and the glory -of God’s beauty everywhere.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi gazed down upon her, an expression very like despair -shadowing his own features. -</p> - -<p> -“Too far, too far she wends her flight;”—he muttered to himself -wearily. “How can I argue on these vague and sublimated utterances! I -cannot understand her joy—she cannot understand my pain. Evidently -Heaven’s language is incomprehensible to mortal ears. And -yet;—Lilith!” he called again almost imperiously. “You talk of God as -if you knew Him. But I—I know Him not—I have not proved Him; tell me -of His Shape, His Seeming,—if indeed you have the power.” -</p> - -<p> -She was silent. He studied her tranquil face intently,—the smile upon -it was in very truth divine. -</p> - -<p> -“No answer!” he said with some derision. “Of course,—what answer -should there be! What Shape or Seeming should there be to a mere huge -blind Force that creates without reason, and destroys without -necessity!” -</p> - -<p> -As he thus soliloquised, Lilith stirred, and flung her white arms -upward as though in ecstasy, letting them fall slowly afterwards in a -folded position behind her head. -</p> - -<p> -“To the seven declared tones of Music, add seventy million more,”—she -said—“and let them ring their sweetest cadence, they shall make but a -feeble echo of the music of God’s voice! To all the shades of radiant -colour, to all the lines of noblest form, add the splendour of eternal -youth, eternal goodness, eternal joy, eternal power, and yet we shall -not render into speech or song the beauty of our God! From His glance -flows Light—from His presence rushes Harmony,—as He moves through -Space great worlds are born; and at His bidding planets grow within -the air like flowers. Oh to see Him passing ’mid the stars!——” -</p> - -<p> -She broke off suddenly and drew a long deep breath, as of sheer -delight,—but the shadow on El-Râmi’s features darkened wearily. -</p> - -<p> -“You teach me nothing, Lilith”—he said sadly and somewhat -sternly—“You speak of what you see—or what you think you see—but -you cannot convince me of its truth.” -</p> - -<p> -Her face grew paler,—the smile vanished from her lips, and all her -delicate beauty seemed to freeze into a cold and grave rigidity. -</p> - -<p> -“Love begets faith;”—she said—“Where we do not love, we doubt. Doubt -breeds Evil, and Evil knows not God.” -</p> - -<p> -“Platitudes, upon my life!—mere platitudes!” exclaimed El-Râmi -bitterly—“If this half-released spirit can do no more than prate of -the same old laws and duties our preachers teach us, then indeed my -service is vain. But she shall not baffle me thus;”—and, bending over -Lilith’s figure, he unwound her arms from the indolent position in -which they were folded, took her hands roughly in his own, and, -sitting on the edge of her couch, fixed his burning eyes upon her as -though he sought to pierce her to the heart’s core with their ardent, -almost cruel lustre. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith!” he commanded—“Speak plainly, that I may fully understand -your words. You say there is no hell?” -</p> - -<p> -The answer came steadily. -</p> - -<p> -“None.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then must evil go unpunished?” -</p> - -<p> -“Evil wreaks punishment upon itself. Evil destroys itself. That is the -Law.” -</p> - -<p> -“And the Prophets!” muttered El-Râmi scornfully—“Well! Go on, -strange sprite! Why—for such things are known—why does goodness -suffer for being good?” -</p> - -<p> -“That never is. That is impossible.” -</p> - -<p> -“Impossible?” queried El-Râmi incredulously. -</p> - -<p> -“Impossible,”—repeated, the soft voice firmly. “Goodness <i>seems</i> to -suffer, but it does not. Evil <i>seems</i> to prosper, but it does not.” -</p> - -<p> -“And God exists?” -</p> - -<p> -“God exists.” -</p> - -<p> -“And what of Heaven?” -</p> - -<p> -“Which heaven?” asked Lilith—“There are a million million heavens.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi stopped—thinking,—then finally said— -</p> - -<p> -“God’s Heaven.” -</p> - -<p> -“You would say God’s World;”—returned Lilith tranquilly—“Nay, you -will not let me reach that centre. I see it; I feel it afar off—but -your will binds me—you will not let me go.” -</p> - -<p> -“If I were to let you go, what would you do?” asked El-Râmi—“Would -you return to me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Never! Those who enter the Perfect Glory return no more to an -imperfect light.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi paused—he was arranging other questions to ask, when her -next words startled him— -</p> - -<p> -“Some one called me by my name,”—she said—“Tenderly and softly, as -though it were a name beloved. I heard the voice—I could not -answer—but I heard it—and I know that some one loves me. The sense -of love is sweet, and makes your dreary world seem fair!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi’s heart began to beat violently—the voice of Féraz had -reached her in her trance then after all! And she remembered it!—more -than this—it had carried a vague emotion of love to that vagrant and -ethereal essence which he called her “soul” but which he had his -doubts of all the while. For he was unable to convince himself -positively of any such thing as “Soul”;—all emotions, even of the -most divinely transcendent nature, he was disposed to set down to the -action of brain merely. But he was scientist enough to know that the -brain must gather its ideas from <i>something</i>,—something either -external or internal,—even such a vague thing as an Idea cannot -spring out of blank Chaos. And this was what especially puzzled him in -his experiment with the girl Lilith—for, ever since he had placed her -in the “life-in-death” condition she was, he had been careful to avoid -impressing any of his own thoughts or ideas upon her. And, as a matter -of fact, all she said about God, or about a present or a future state, -was precisely the reverse of what he himself argued;—the question -therefore remained—From Where and How did she get her knowledge? She -had been a mere pretty, ignorant, half-barbaric Arab child, when she -<i>died</i> (according to natural law), and, during the six years she had -<i>lived</i> (by scientific law) in her strange trance, her brain had been -absolutely unconscious of all external impressions, while of internal -she could have none, beyond the memories of her childhood. Yet,—she -had grown beautiful beyond the beauty of mortals, and she spoke of -things beyond all mortal comprehension. The riddle of her physical and -mental development seemed unanswerable,—it was the wonder, the -puzzle, the difficulty, the delight of all El-Râmi’s hours. But now -there was mischief done. She spoke of love,—not divine impersonal -love, as was her wont,—but love that touched her own existence with -a vaguely pleasing emotion. A voice had reached her that never should -have been allowed to penetrate her spiritual solitude, and realising -this, a sullen anger smouldered in El-Râmi’s mind. He strove to -consider Zaroba’s fault and Féraz’s folly with all the leniency, -forbearance, and forgiveness possible, and yet the strange -restlessness within him gave him no peace. What should be done? What -could be answered to those wistful words—“The sense of love is sweet, -and makes your dreary world seem fair”? -</p> - -<p> -He pondered on the matter, vaguely uneasy and dissatisfied. He, and he -alone, was the master of Lilith,—he commanded and she obeyed,—but -would it be always thus? The doubt turned his blood cold,—suppose she -escaped him now, after all his studies and calculations! He resolved -he would ask her no more questions that night, and very gently he -released the little slender hands he held. -</p> - -<p> -“Go, Lilith!” he said softly—“This world, as you say, is dreary—I -will not keep you longer in its gloom—go hence and rest.” -</p> - -<p> -“Rest?” sighed Lilith inquiringly—“Where?” -</p> - -<p> -He bent above her, and touched her loose gold locks almost -caressingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Where you choose!” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, that I may not!” murmured Lilith sadly. “I have no choice—I -must obey the Master’s will.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi’s heart beat high with triumph at these words. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>My</i> will!” he said, more to himself than to her—“The force of -it!—the marvel of it!—<i>my</i> will!” -</p> - -<p> -Lilith heard,—a strange glory seemed to shine round her, like a halo -round a pictured saint, and the voice that came from her lips rang out -with singularly sweet clearness. -</p> - -<p> -“Your will!” she echoed—“Your will—and also—God’s will!” -</p> - -<p> -He started, amazed and irresolute. The words were not what he -expected, and he would have questioned their meaning, but that he saw -on the girl’s lovely features a certain pale composed look which he -recognised as the look that meant silence. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith!” he whispered. -</p> - -<p> -No answer. He stood looking down upon her, his face seeming sterner -and darker than usual by reason of the intense, passionate anxiety in -his burning eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“God’s will!” he echoed with some disdain—“God’s will would have -annihilated her very existence long ago out in the desert;—what -should God do with her now that I have not done?” -</p> - -<p> -His arrogance seemed to be perfectly justifiable; and yet he very well -knew that, strictly speaking, there was no such thing as -“annihilation” possible to any atom in the universe. Moreover, he did -not choose to analyse the mystical reasons as to <i>why</i> he had been -permitted by Fate or Chance to obtain such mastery over one human -soul,—he preferred to attribute it all to his own discoveries in -science,—his own patient and untiring skill,—his own studious -comprehension of the forces of Nature,—and he was nearly, if not -quite, oblivious of the fact that there is a Something behind natural -forces, which knows and sees, controls and commands, and against -which, if he places himself in opposition, Man is but the puniest, -most wretched straw that was ever tossed or split by a whirlwind. As a -rule, men of science work not for God so much as against -Him,—wherefore their most brilliant researches stop short of the -goal. Great intellects are seldom devout,—for brilliant culture -begets pride—and pride is incompatible with faith or worship. Perfect -science, combined with perfect selflessness, would give us what we -need,—a purified and reasoning Religion. But El-Râmi’s chief -characteristic was pride,—and he saw no mischief in it. Strong in his -knowledge,—defiant of evil in the consciousness he possessed of his -own extraordinary physical and mental endowments, he saw no reason why -he should bow down in humiliated abasement before forces, either -natural or spiritual, which he deemed himself able to control. And his -brow cleared, as he once more bent over his tranced “subject” and, -with all the methodical precaution of a physician, felt her pulse, -took note of her temperature, and judged that for the present she -needed no more of that strange Elixir which kept her veins aglow with -such inexplicably beauteous vitality. Then—his examination done—he -left the room; and as he drew the velvet portière behind him the -little white moth that had flown in for a night’s shelter fluttered -down from the golden lamp like a falling leaf, and dropped on the -couch of Lilith, shrivelled and dead. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch18"> -XVIII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">The</span> next day was very wet and stormy. From morning to night the rain -fell in torrents, and a cold wind blew. El-Râmi stayed indoors, -reading, writing, and answering a few of his more urgent -correspondents, a great number of whom were total strangers to him, -and who nevertheless wrote to him out of the sheer curiosity excited -in them by the perusal of a certain book to which his name was -appended as author. This book was a very original literary -production,—the critics were angry with it, because it was so unlike -anything else that ever was written. According to the theories set -forth in its pages, Man, the poor and finite, was proved to be a -creature of superhuman and almost god-like attributes,—a “flattering -unction” indeed, which when laid to the souls of commonplace egoists -had the effect of making them consider El-Râmi Zarânos a very -wonderful person, and themselves more wonderful still. Only the truly -great mind is humble enough to appreciate greatness, and of great -minds there is a great scarcity. Most of El-Râmi’s correspondents -were of that lower order of intelligence which blandly accepts every -fresh truth discovered as specially intended for themselves, and not -at all for the world, as though indeed they were some particular and -removed class of superior beings who alone were capable of -understanding true wisdom. “Your work has appealed to <i>me</i>”—wrote -one, “as it will not appeal to all, because I am able to enter into -the divine spirit of things as the <i>vulgar herd</i> cannot do!” This, as -if the “vulgar herd” were not also part of the “divine spirit of -things”! -</p> - -<p> -“I have delighted in your book”—wrote another, “because I am a poet, -and the world, with its low aims and lower desires, I abhor and -despise!” -</p> - -<p> -The absurdity of a man presuming to call himself a poet, and in the -same breath declaring he “despises” the world,—the world which -supports his life and provides him with all his needs,—never seems to -occur to the minds of these poor boasters of a petty vanity. El-Râmi -looked weary enough as he glanced quickly through a heap of such -ill-judged and egotistical epistles, and threw them aside to be for -ever left unanswered. To him there was something truly horrible and -discouraging in the contemplation of the hopeless, helpless, absolute -stupidity of the majority of mankind. The teachings of Mother Nature -being always straight and plain, it <i>is</i> remarkable what devious -turnings and dark winding ways we prefer to stumble into rather than -take the fair and open course. For example Nature says to us—“My -children, Truth is simple,—and I am bound by all my forces to assist -its manifestation. A Lie is difficult—I can have none of it—it needs -other lies to keep it going,—its ways are full of complexity and -puzzle,—why then, O foolish ones, will you choose the Lie and avoid -the Truth? For, work as you may, the Truth must out, and not all the -uproar of opposing multitudes can still its thunderous tongue.” Thus -Nature;—but we heed her not,—we go on lying steadfastly, in a -strange delusion that thereby we may deceive Eternal Justice. But -Eternal Justice never is deceived,—never is obscured even, save for a -moment, as a passing cloud obscures the sun. -</p> - -<p> -“How easy after all to avoid mischief of any kind,” mused El-Râmi -now, as he put by his papers and drew two or three old reference -volumes towards him—“How easy to live happily, free from care, free -from sickness, free from every external or internal wretchedness, if -we could but practise the one rule—Self-abnegation. It is all -there,—and the ethereal Lilith may be right in her assurance as to -the non-existence of Evil unless we ourselves create it. At least one -half the trouble in the world might be avoided if we chose. Debt, for -example,—that carking trouble always arises from living beyond one’s -means,—therefore <i>why</i> live beyond one’s means? What for? Show? -Vulgar ostentation? Luxury? Idleness? All these are things against -which Heaven raises its eternal ban. Then take physical pain and -sickness,—here Self is to blame again,—self-indulgence in the -pleasures of the table,—sensual craving—the marriage of weakly or -ill-conditioned persons,—all simple causes from which spring -incalculable evils. Avoid the causes and we escape the evils. The -arrangements of Nature are all so clear and explicit, and yet we are -for ever going out of our way to find or invent difficulties. The -farmer grumbles and writes letters to the newspapers if his -turnip-fields are invaded by what he deems a ‘destructive pest’ in the -way of moth or caterpillar, and utterly ignores the fact that these -insects always appear for some wise reason or other, which he, -absorbed in his own immediate petty interests, fails to appreciate. -His turnips are eaten,—that is all he thinks or cares about,—but if -he knew that those same turnips contain a particular microbe poisonous -to human life, a germ of typhoid, cholera, or the like, drawn up from -the soil and ready to fructify in the blood of cattle or of men, and -that these insects of which he complains are the scavengers sent by -Nature to utterly destroy the Plague in embryo, he might pause in his -grumbling to wonder at so much precaution taken by the elements for -the preservation of his unworthy and ignorant being. Perplexing and at -times maddening is this our curse of Ignorance,—but that the ‘sins of -the fathers are visited on the children’ is a true saying is -evident—for the faults of generations are still bred in our blood and -bone.” -</p> - -<p> -He turned over the first volume before him listlessly,—his mind was -not set upon study, and his attention wandered. He was thinking of -Féraz, with whom he had scarcely exchanged a word all day. He had -lacked nothing in the way of service, for swift and courteous -obedience to his brother’s wishes had characterised Féraz in every -simple action, but there was a constraint between the two that had not -previously existed. Féraz bore himself with a stately yet sad -hauteur,—he had the air of a proud prince in chains who, being -captive, performed his prison work with exactitude and resignation as -a matter of discipline and duty. It was curious that El-Râmi, who had -steeled himself as he imagined against every tender sentiment, should -now feel the want of the impetuous confidence and grace of manner with -which his young brother had formerly treated him. -</p> - -<p> -“Everything changes—” he mused gloomily, “Everything <i>must</i> change, -of course; and nothing is so fluctuating as the humour of a boy who is -not yet a man, but is on the verge of manhood. And with Féraz my -power has reached its limit,—I know exactly what I can do, and what I -can <i>not</i> do with him,—it is a case of ‘Thus far and no farther.’ -Well,—he must choose his own way of life,—only let him not presume -to set himself in <i>my</i> way, or interfere in <i>my</i> work! Ye gods!—there -is nothing I would not do——” -</p> - -<p> -He paused, ashamed; the blood flushed his face darkly and his hand -clenched itself involuntarily. Conscious of the thought that had -arisen within him, he felt a moment’s shuddering horror of himself. He -knew that in the very depths of his nature there was enough untamed -savagery to make him capable of crushing his young brother’s life out -of him, should he dare to obstruct his path or oppose him in his -labours. Realising this, a cold dew broke out on his forehead and he -trembled. -</p> - -<p> -“O Soul of Lilith that cannot understand Evil!” he exclaimed—“Whence -came this evil thought in me? Does the evil in myself engender -it?—and does the same bitter gall that stirred the blood of Cain lurk -in the depths of my being, till Opportunity strikes the wicked hour? -<i>Retro me, Sathanas!</i> After all, there was something in the old -beliefs—the pious horror of a devil,—for a devil there is that walks -the world, and his name is Man!” -</p> - -<p> -He rose and paced the room impatiently,—what a long day it seemed, -and with what dreary persistence the rain washed against the windows! -He looked out into the street,—there was not a passenger to be -seen,—a wet dingy grayness pervaded the atmosphere and made -everything ugly and cheerless. He went back to his books, and -presently began to turn over the pages of the quaint Arabic volume -into which Féraz had unwisely dipped, gathering therefrom a crumb of -knowledge, which, like all scrappy information, had only led him to -discontent. -</p> - -<p> -“All these old experiments of the Egyptian priests were simple -enough—” he murmured as he read,—“They had one substratum of -science,—the art of bringing the countless atoms that fill the air -into temporary shape. The trick is so easy and natural that I fancy -there must have been a certain condition of the atmosphere in earlier -ages which <i>of itself</i> shaped the atoms,—hence the ideas of nymphs, -dryads, fauns, and water-sprites; these temporary shapes which dazzled -for some fleeting moments the astonished human eye and so gave rise to -all the legends. To shape the atoms as a sculptor shapes clay, is but -a phase of chemistry,—a pretty experiment—yet what a miracle it -would always seem to the uninstructed multitude!” -</p> - -<p> -He unlocked a drawer in his desk, and took from it a box full of red -powder, and two small flasks, one containing minute globules of a -glittering green colour like tiny emeralds,—the other full of a pale -amber liquid. He smiled as he looked at these ingredients,—and then -he gave a glance out through the window at the dark and rainy -afternoon. -</p> - -<p> -“To pass the time, why not?” he queried half aloud. “One needs a -little diversion sometimes even in science.” -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon he placed some of the red powder in a small bronze vessel -and set fire to it. A thick smoke arose at once and filled the room -with cloud that emitted a pungent perfume, and in which his own figure -was scarcely discernible. He cast five or six of the little green -globules into this smoke; they dissolved in their course and melted -within it,—and finally he threw aloft a few drops of the amber -liquid. The effect was extraordinary, and would have seemed incredible -to any onlooker, for through the cloud a roseate Shape made itself -slowly visible,—a Shape that was surrounded with streaks of light and -rainbow flame as with a garland. Vague at first, but soon growing more -distinct, it gathered itself into seeming substance, and floated -nearly to the ground,—then rising again, balanced itself lightly like -a blown feather sideways upon the dense mist that filled the air. In -form this “coruscation of atoms,” as El-Râmi called it, resembled a -maiden in the bloom of youth,—her flowing hair, her sparkling eyes, -her smiling lips, were all plainly discernible;—but, that she was a -mere phantasm and creature of the cloud was soon made plain, for -scarcely had she declared herself in all her rounded laughing -loveliness than she melted away and passed into nothingness like a -dream. The cloud of smoke grew thinner and thinner, till it vanished -also so completely that there was no more left of it than a pale blue -ring such as might have been puffed from a stray cigar. El-Râmi, -leaning lazily back in his chair, had watched the whole development -and finish of his “experiment” with indolent interest and amusement. -</p> - -<p> -“How admirably the lines of beauty are always kept in these -effects,”—he said to himself when it was over,—“and what a fortune I -could make with that one example of the concentration of atoms if I -chose to pass as a Miracle-maker. Moses was an adept at this kind of -thing; so also was a certain Egyptian priest named Borsa of Memphis, -who just for that same graceful piece of chemistry was judged by the -people as divine,—made king,—and loaded with wealth and -honour;—excellent and most cunning Borsa! But we—we do not judge any -one “divine” in these days of ours, not even God,—for He is supposed -to be simply the lump of leaven working through the loaf of -matter,—though it will always remain a question as to why there is -any leaven or any loaf at all existing.” -</p> - -<p> -He fell into a train of meditation, which caused him presently to take -up his pen and write busily many pages of close manuscript. Féraz -came in at the usual hour with supper,—and then only he ceased -working, and shared the meal with his young brother, talking -cheerfully, though saying little but commonplaces, and skilfully -steering off any allusion to subjects which might tend to increase -Féraz’s evident melancholy. Once he asked him rather abruptly why he -had not played any music that day. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not know”—answered the young man coldly—“I seem to have -forgotten music—with other things.” -</p> - -<p> -He spoke meaningly;—El-Râmi laughed, relieved and light at heart. -Those “other things” meant the name of Lilith, which his will had -succeeded in erasing from his brother’s memory. His eyes sparkled, and -his voice gathered new richness and warmth of feeling as he said -kindly— -</p> - -<p> -“I think not, Féraz,—I think you cannot have forgotten music. Surely -it is no extraneous thing, but part of you,—a lovely portion of your -life which you would be loath to miss. Here is your little neglected -friend,”—and, rising, he took out of its case an exquisitely-shaped -mandolin inlaid with pearl—“The dear old lute,—for lute it is, -though modernised,—the same-shaped instrument on which the rose and -fuchsia-crowned youths of old Pompeii played the accompaniment to -their love songs; the same, the very same on which the long-haired, -dusky-skinned maids of Thebes and Memphis thrummed their strange -uncouth ditties to their black-browed warrior kings. I like it better -than the violin—its form is far more pleasing—we can see Apollo with -a lute, but it is difficult to fancy the Sun-god fitting his graceful -arm to the contorted positions of a fiddle. Play something, -Féraz”—and he smiled winningly as he gave the mandolin into his -brother’s hands—“Here,”—and he detached the plectrum from its place -under the strings—“With this little piece of oval tortoiseshell, you -can set the nerves of music quivering,—those silver wires will answer -to your touch like the fibres of the human heart struck by the -<i>tremolo</i> of passion.” -</p> - -<p> -He paused,—his eyes were full, of an ardent light, and Féraz looked -at him wonderingly. What a voice he had!—how eloquently he -spoke!—how noble and thoughtful were his features!—and what an air -of almost pathetic dignity was given to his face by that curiously -snow-white hair of his, which so incongruously suggested age in youth! -Poor Féraz!—his heart swelled within him; love and secret admiration -for his brother contended with a sense of outraged pride in -himself,—and yet—he felt his sullen <i>amour-propre</i>, his instinct of -rebellion, and his distrustful reserve all oozing away under the spell -of El-Râmi’s persuasive tongue and fascinating manner,—and to escape -from his own feelings, he bent over the mandolin and tried its chords -with a trembling hand and downcast eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“You speak of passion,” he said in a low voice—“but you have never -known it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, have I not!” and El-Râmi laughed lightly as he resumed his -seat—“Nay, if I had not I should be more than man. The lightning has -flashed across my path, Féraz, I assure you, only it has not killed -me; and I have been ready to shed my blood drop by drop, for so slight -and imperfect a production of Nature as—a woman! A thing of white -flesh and soft curves, and long hair and large eyes, and a laugh like -the tinkle of a fountain in our Eastern courts,—a thing with less -mind than a kitten, and less fidelity than a hound. Of course there -are clever women and faithful women,—but then we men seldom choose -these; we are fools, and we pay for our folly. And I also have been a -fool in my time,—why should you imagine I have not? It is flattering -to me, but why?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked at him again, and in spite of himself smiled, though -reluctantly. -</p> - -<p> -“You always seem to treat all earthly emotions with scorn—” he -replied evasively, “And once you told me there was no such thing in -the world as love.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nor is there—” said El-Râmi quickly—“Not ideal love—not -everlasting love. Love in its highest, purest sense, belongs to other -planets—in this its golden wings are clipped, and it becomes nothing -more than a common and vulgar physical attraction.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz thrummed his mandolin softly. -</p> - -<p> -“I saw two lovers the other day—” he said—“They seemed divinely -happy.” -</p> - -<p> -“Where did you see them?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not here. In the land I know best—my Star.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him curiously, but forbore to speak. -</p> - -<p> -“They were beautiful—” went on Féraz. “They were resting together on -a bank of flowers in a little nook of that lovely forest where there -are thousands of song-birds sweeter than nightingales. Music filled -the air,—a rosy glory filled the sky,—their arms were twined around -each other,—their lips met, and then—oh, then their joy smote me -with fear, because,—because <i>I</i> was alone—and they were—together!” -</p> - -<p> -His voice trembled. El-Râmi’s smile had in it something of -compassion. -</p> - -<p> -“Love in your Star is a dream, Féraz—” he said gently—“But love -here—here in this phase of things we call Reality,—means,—do you -know what it means?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -“It means Money. It means lands, and houses and a big balance at the -bank. Lovers do not subsist here on flowers and music,—they have -rather more vulgar and substantial appetites. Love here is the -disillusion of Love—there, in the region you speak of, it may -perchance be perfect——” -</p> - -<p> -A sudden rush of rain battering at the windows, accompanied by a gust -of wind, interrupted him. -</p> - -<p> -“What a storm!” exclaimed Féraz, looking up—“And you are -expecting——” -</p> - -<p> -A measured rat-tat-tat at the door came at that moment, and El-Râmi -sprang to his feet. Féraz rose also, and set aside his mandolin. -Another gust of wind whistled by, bringing with it a sweeping torrent -of hail. -</p> - -<p> -“Quick!” said El-Râmi, in a somewhat agitated voice—“It is—you know -who it is. Give him reverent greeting, Féraz—and show him at once in -here.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz withdrew,—and, when he had disappeared, El-Râmi looked about -him vaguely with the bewildered air of a man who would fain escape -from some difficult position, could he but discover an egress,—a -slight shudder ran through his frame, and he heaved a deep sigh. -</p> - -<p> -“Why has he come to me!” he muttered, “Why—after all these years of -absolute silence and indifference to my work, does he seek me now?” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch19"> -XIX. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Standing</span> in an attitude more of resignation than expectancy, he -waited, listening. He heard the street-door open and shut again,—then -came a brief pause, followed by the sound of a firm step in the outer -hall,—and Féraz re-appeared, ushering in with grave respect a man of -stately height and majestic demeanour, cloaked in a heavy travelling -ulster, the hood of which was pulled cowl-like over his head and -almost concealed his features. -</p> - -<p> -“Greeting to El-Râmi Zarânos—” said a rich mellow voice, “And so -this is the weather provided by an English month of May! Well, it -might be worse,—certes, also, it might be better. I should have -disburdened myself of these ‘lendings’ in the hall, but that I knew -not whether you were quite alone—” and, as he spoke, he threw off his -cloak, which dripped with rain, and handed it to Féraz, disclosing -himself in the dress of a Carthusian monk, all save the disfiguring -tonsure. “I was not certain,” he continued cheerfully—“whether you -might be ready or willing to receive me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I am always ready for such a visitor—” said El-Râmi, advancing -hesitatingly, and with a curious diffidence in his manner—“And more -than willing. Your presence honours this poor house and brings with it -a certain benediction.” -</p> - -<p> -“Gracefully said, El-Râmi!” exclaimed the monk with a keen flash of -his deep-set blue eyes—“Where did you learn to make pretty speeches? -I remember you of old time as brusque of tongue and obstinate of -humour,—and even now humility sits ill upon you,—’tis not your -favourite practised household virtue.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi flushed, but made no reply. He seemed all at once to have -become even to himself the merest foolish nobody before this his -remarkable-looking visitor with the brow and eyes of an inspired -evangelist, and the splendid lines of thought, aspiration, and -endeavour marking the already noble countenance with an expression -seldom seen on features of mortal mould. Féraz now came forward to -proffer wine and sundry other refreshments, all of which were -courteously refused. -</p> - -<p> -“This lad has grown, El-Râmi—” said the stranger, surveying Féraz -with much interest and kindliness,—“since he stayed with us in Cyprus -and studied our views of poesy and song. A promising youth he -seems,—and still your slave?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi gave a gesture of deprecation. -</p> - -<p> -“You mistake—” he replied curtly—“He is my brother and my -friend,—as such he cannot be my slave. He is as free as air.” -</p> - -<p> -“Or as an eagle that ever flies back to its eyrie in the rocks out of -sheer habit—” observed the monk with a smile—“In this case you are -the eyrie, and the eagle is never absent long! Well—what now, pretty -lad?” this, as Féraz, moved by a sudden instinct which he could not -explain to himself, dropped reverently on one knee. -</p> - -<p> -“Your blessing—” he murmured timidly. “I have heard it said that your -touch brings peace,—and I—I am not at peace.” -</p> - -<p> -The monk looked at him benignly. -</p> - -<p> -“We live in a world of storm, my boy—” he said gently—“where there -is no peace but the peace of the inner spirit. That, with your youth -and joyous nature, you should surely possess,—and, if you have it -not, may God grant it you! ’Tis the best blessing I can devise.” -</p> - -<p> -And he signed the Cross on the young man’s forehead with a gentle -lingering touch,—a touch under which Féraz trembled and sighed for -pleasure, conscious of the delicious restfulness and ease that seemed -suddenly to pervade his being. -</p> - -<p> -“What a child he is still, this brother of yours!” then said the monk, -turning abruptly towards El-Râmi—“He craves a blessing,—while you -have progressed beyond all such need!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi raised his dark eyes,—eyes full of a burning pain and -pride,—but made no answer. The monk looked at him steadily—and -heaved a quick sigh. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Vigilate et orate ut non intretis in tentationem!</i>” he -murmured,—“Truly, to forgive is easy—but to forget is difficult. I -have much to say to you, El-Râmi,—for this is the last time I shall -meet you ‘before I go hence and be no more seen.’” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz uttered an involuntary exclamation. -</p> - -<p> -“You do not mean,” he said almost breathlessly—“that you are going to -die?” -</p> - -<p> -“Assuredly not!” replied the monk with a smile—“I am going to live. -Some people call it dying—but we know better,—we know we cannot -die.” -</p> - -<p> -“We are not sure—” began El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“Speak for yourself, my friend!” said the monk cheerily—“<i>I</i> am -sure,—and so are those who labour with me. I am not made of -perishable composition any more than the dust is perishable. Every -grain of dust contains a germ of life—I am co-equal with the dust, -and I contain my germ also, of life that is capable of infinite -reproduction.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him dubiously yet wonderingly. He seemed the very -embodiment of physical strength and vitality, yet he only compared -himself to a grain of dust. And the very dust held the seeds of -life!—true!—then, after all, was there anything in the universe, -however small and slight, that could die <i>utterly</i>? And was Lilith -right when she said there was <i>no</i> death? Wearily and impatiently -El-Râmi pondered the question,—and he almost started with nervous -irritation when the slight noise of the door shutting told him that -Féraz had retired, leaving him and his mysterious visitant alone -together. -</p> - -<p> -Some minutes passed in silence. The monk sat quietly in El-Râmi’s own -chair, and El-Râmi himself stood close by, waiting, as it seemed, for -something; with an air of mingled defiance and appeal. Outside, the -rain and wind continued their gusty altercation;—inside, the lamp -burned brightly, shedding warmth and lustre on the student-like -simplicity of the room. It was the monk himself who at last broke the -spell of the absolute stillness. -</p> - -<p> -“You wonder,” he said slowly—“at the reason of my coming here,—to -you who are a recreant from the mystic tie of our brotherhood,—to -you, who have employed the most sacred and venerable secrets of our -Order, to wrest from Life and Nature the material for your own -self-interested labours. You think I come for information—you think I -wish to hear from your own lips the results of your scientific scheme -of supernatural ambition,—alas, El-Râmi Zarânos!—how little you -know me! Prayer has taught me more science than Science will ever -grasp,—there is nothing in all the catalogue of your labours that I -do not understand, and you can give me no new message from lands -beyond the sun. I have come to you out of simple pity,—to warn you -and if possible to save.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi’s dark eyes opened wide in astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -“To warn me?” he echoed—“To save? From what?—Such a mission to me is -incomprehensible.” -</p> - -<p> -“Incomprehensible to your stubborn spirit,—yes, no doubt it is—” -said the monk, with a touch of stern reproach in his accents,—“For -you will not see that the Veil of the Eternal, though it may lift -itself for you a little from other men’s lives, hangs dark across your -own, and is impervious to your gaze. You will not grasp the fact that, -though it may be given to you to read other men’s passions, you cannot -read your own. You have begun at the wrong end of the mystery, -El-Râmi,—you should have mastered yourself first, before seeking to -master others. And now there is danger ahead of you—be wise in -time,—accept the truth before it is too late.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi listened, impatient and incredulous. -</p> - -<p> -“Accept what truth?” he asked somewhat bitterly—“Am I not searching -for truth everywhere? and seeking to prove it? Give me any sort of -truth to hold, and I will grasp it as a drowning sailor grasps the -rope of rescue!” -</p> - -<p> -The monk’s eyes rested on him in mingled compassion and sorrow. -</p> - -<p> -“After all these years—” he said—“are you still asking Pilate’s -question?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—I am still asking Pilate’s question!” retorted El-Râmi with -sudden passion—“See you—I know who you are,—great and wise, a -master of the arts and sciences, and with all your stores of learning, -still a servant of Christ, which to me is the wildest, maddest -incongruity. I grant you that Christ was the holiest man that ever -lived on earth,—and if I swear a thing in His name I swear an oath -that shall not be broken. But in His Divinity, I cannot, I may not, I -dare not believe!—except in so far that there is divinity in all of -us. One man, born of woman, destined to regenerate the world!—the -idea is stupendous,—but impossible to reason!” -</p> - -<p> -He paced the room impatiently. -</p> - -<p> -“If I could believe it—I say ‘if,’”—he continued, “I should still -think it a clumsy scheme. For every human creature living should be a -reformer and regenerator of his race.” -</p> - -<p> -“Like yourself?” queried the monk calmly. “What have <i>you</i> done, for -example?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi stopped in his walk to and fro. -</p> - -<p> -“What have I done?” he repeated—“Why—nothing! You deem me proud and -ambitious,—but I am humble enough to know how little I know. And as -to proofs,—well, it is the same story—I have proved—nothing.” -</p> - -<p> -“So! Then are your labours wasted?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing is wasted,—according to <i>your</i> theories even. Your -theories—many of them—are beautiful and soul-satisfying, and this -one of there being no waste in the economy of the universe is, I -believe, true. But I cannot accept all you teach. I broke my -connection with you because I could not bend my spirit to the level of -the patience you enjoined. It was not rebellion,—no! for I loved and -honoured you—and I still revere you more than any man alive, but I -cannot bow my neck to the yoke you consider so necessary. To begin all -work by first admitting one’s weakness!—no!—Power is gained by -never-resting ambition, not by a merely laborious humility.” -</p> - -<p> -“Opinions differ on that point”—said the monk quietly—“I never -sought to check your ambition—I simply said—Take God with you. Do -not leave Him out. He IS. Therefore His existence must be included in -everything, even in the scientific examination of a drop of dew. -Without Him you grope in the dark—you lack the key to the mystery. As -an example of this, you are yourself battering against a shut door, -and fighting with a Force too strong for you.” -</p> - -<p> -“I must have proofs of God!” said El-Râmi very deliberately—“Nature -proves her existence; let God prove His!” -</p> - -<p> -“And does He not prove it?” inquired the monk with mingled passion and -solemnity—“Have you to go farther than the commonest flower to find -Him?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders with an air of light disdain. -</p> - -<p> -“Nature is Nature,”—he said—“God—an there be a God—is God. If God -works through Nature He arranges things very curiously on a system of -mutual destruction. You talk of flowers,—they contain both poisonous -and healing properties,—and the poor human race has to study and toil -for years before finding out which is which. Is that just of -Nature—or God? Children never know at all,—and the poor little -wretches die often through eating poison-berries of whose deadly -nature they were not aware. That is what I complain of—we are not -aware of evil, and we are not made aware. We have to find it out for -ourselves. And I maintain that it is wanton cruelty on the part of the -Divine Element to punish us for ignorance which we cannot help. And so -the plan of mutual destructiveness goes on, with the most admirable -persistency; the eater is in turn eaten, and, as far as I can make -out, this seems to be the one Everlasting Law. Surely it is an odd and -inconsequential arrangement? As for the business of creation, that is -easy, if once we grant the existence of certain component parts of -space. Look at this, for example”—and he took from a corner a thin -steel rod about the size of an ordinary walking cane—“If I use this -magnet, and these few crystals”—and he opened a box on the table, -containing some sparkling powder like diamond dust, a pinch of which -he threw up into the air—“and play with them thus, you see what -happens!” -</p> - -<p> -And with a dexterous steady motion he waved the steel rod rapidly -round and round in the apparently empty space where he had tossed -aloft the pinch of powder, and gradually there grew into shape out of -the seeming nothingness a round large brilliant globe of prismatic -tints, like an enormously magnified soap-bubble, which followed the -movement of the steel magnet rapidly and accurately. The monk lifted -himself a little in his chair and watched the operation with interest -and curiosity—till presently El-Râmi dropped the steel rod from -sheer fatigue of arm. But the globe went on revolving steadily by -itself for a time, and El-Râmi pointed to it with a smile— -</p> - -<p> -“If I had the skill to send that bubble-sphere out into space, -solidify it, and keep it perpetually rolling,” he said lightly, “it -would in time exhale its own atmosphere and produce life, and I should -be a very passable imitation of the Creator.” -</p> - -<p> -At that moment the globe broke, and vanished like a melting snowflake, -leaving no trace of its existence but a little white dust which fell -in a round circle on the carpet. After this display, El-Râmi waited -for his guest to speak, but the monk said nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“You see,” continued El-Râmi—“it requires a great deal to satisfy -<i>me</i> with proofs. I must have tangible Fact, not vague Imagining.” -</p> - -<p> -The monk raised his eyes,—what searching calm eyes they were!—and -fixed them full on the speaker. -</p> - -<p> -“Your Sphere was a Fact,”—he said quietly—“Visible to the eye, it -glittered and whirled—but it was not tangible, and it had no life in -it. It is a fair example of other Facts,—so called. And you could not -have created so much as that perishable bubble, had not God placed the -materials in your hands. It is odd you seem to forget that. No one can -work without the materials for working,—the question remains, from -Whence came those materials?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled with a touch of scorn. -</p> - -<p> -“Rightly are you called Supreme Master!” he said—“for your faith is -marvellous—your ideas of life both here and hereafter, beautiful. I -wish I could accept them. But I cannot. Your way does not seem to me -clear or reasonable,—and I have thought it out in every direction. -Take the doctrine of original sin for example—what <i>is</i> original sin, -and why should it exist?” -</p> - -<p> -“It does not exist—” said the monk quickly—“except in so far that -<i>we</i> have created it. It is we, therefore, who must destroy it.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi paused, thinking. This was the same lesson Lilith had taught. -</p> - -<p> -“If we created it—” he said at last, “and there is a God who is -omnipotent, why were we <i>allowed</i> to create it?” -</p> - -<p> -The monk turned round in his chair with ever so slight a gesture of -impatience. -</p> - -<p> -“How often have I told you, El-Râmi Zarânos,” he said,—“of the gift -and responsibility bestowed on every human unit—Free-Will. You, who -seek for proofs of the Divine, should realise that this is the only -proof we have in ourselves of our close relation to ‘the image of -God.’ God’s Laws exist,—and it is our first business in life to know -and understand these—afterwards, our fate is in our own hands,—if we -transgress law, or if we fulfil law, we know, or ought to know, the -results. If we choose to make evil, it exists till we destroy it—good -we cannot <i>make</i>, because it is the very breath of the Universe, but -we can choose to breathe <i>in</i> it and <i>with</i> it. I have so often gone -over this ground with you that it seems mere waste of words to go over -it again,—and if you cannot, will not see that you are creating your -own destiny and shaping it to your own will, apart from anything that -human or divine experience can teach you, then you are blind indeed. -But time wears on apace,—and I must speak of other things;—one -message I have for you that will doubtless cause you pain.” He waited -a moment—then went on slowly and sadly—“Yes,—the pain will be -bitter and the suffering long,—but the fiat has gone forth, and ere -long you will be called upon to render up the Soul of Lilith.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi started violently,—flushed a deep red, and then grew deadly -pale. -</p> - -<p> -“You speak in enigmas—” he said huskily and with an effort—“What do -you know—how have you heard——” -</p> - -<p> -He broke off,—his voice failed him, and the monk looked at him -compassionately. -</p> - -<p> -“Judge not the power of God, El-Râmi Zarânos!” he said -solemnly—“for it seems you cannot even measure the power of man. -What!—did you think your secret experiment safely hid from all -knowledge save your own?—nay! you mistake. I have watched your -progress step by step—your proud march onward through such mysteries -as never mortal mind dared penetrate before,—but even these wonders -have their limits—and those limits are, for you, nearly reached. You -must set your captive free!” -</p> - -<p> -“Never!” exclaimed El-Râmi passionately. “Never, while I live! I defy -the heavens to rob me of her!—by every law in nature, she is mine!” -</p> - -<p> -“Peace!” said the monk sternly—“Nothing is yours,—except the fate -you have made for yourself. <i>That</i> is yours; and that must and will be -fulfilled. That, in its own appointed time, will deprive you of -Lilith.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi’s eyes flashed wrath and pain. -</p> - -<p> -“What have you to do with my fate?” he demanded—“How should you know -what is in store for me? You are judged to have a marvellous insight -into spiritual things, but it is not insight after all so much as -imagination and instinct. These may lead you wrong,—you have gained -them, as you yourself admit, through nothing but inward, concentration -and prayer—<i>my</i> discoveries are the result of scientific -exploration,—there is no science in prayer!” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there not?”—and the monk, rising from his chair, confronted -El-Râmi with the reproachful majesty of a king who faces some -recreant vassal—“Then with all your wisdom you are -ignorant,—ignorant of the commonest laws of simple Sound. Do you not -yet know—have you not yet learned that Sound vibrates in a million -million tones through every nook and corner of the Universe? Not a -whisper, not a cry from human lips is lost—not even the trill of a -bird or the rustle of a leaf. All is heard—all is kept,—all is -reproduced at will for ever and ever. What is the use of your modern -toys, the phonograph and the telephone, if they do not teach you the -fundamental and eternal law by which these adjuncts to civilisation -are governed? God—the great, patient, loving God—hears the huge -sounding-board of space re-echo again and yet again with rough curses -on His Name,—with groans and wailings; shouts, tears, and laughter -send shuddering discord through His Everlasting Vastness, but amid it -all there is a steady strain of music,—full, sweet, and pure—the -music of perpetual prayer. No science in prayer! Such science there -is, that by its power the very ether parts asunder as by a lightning -stroke—the highest golden gateways are unbarred,—and the -connecting-link ’twixt God and Man stretches itself through Space, -between and round all worlds, defying any force to break the current -of its messages.” -</p> - -<p> -He spoke with fervour and passion,—El-Râmi listened silent and -unconvinced. -</p> - -<p> -“I waste my words, I know—” continued the monk—“For you, Yourself -suffices. What your brain dares devise,—what your hand dares attempt, -that you will do, unadvisedly, sure of your success without the help -of God or man. Nevertheless—you may not keep the Soul of Lilith.” -</p> - -<p> -His voice was very solemn yet sweet; El-Râmi, lifting his head, -looked full at him, wonderingly, earnestly, and as one in doubt. Then -his mind seemed to grasp more completely his visitor’s splendid -presence,—the noble face, the soft commanding eyes,—and -instinctively he bent his proud head with a sudden reverence. -</p> - -<p> -“Truly you are a god-like man—” he said slowly—“God-like in -strength, and pure-hearted as a child. I would trust you in many -things, if not in all. Therefore,—as by some strange means you have -possessed yourself of my secret,—come with me,—and I will show you -the chiefest marvel of my science—the life I claim—the spirit I -dominate. Your warning I cannot accept, because you warn me of what is -impossible. Impossible—I say, impossible!—for the human Lilith, -God’s Lilith, <i>died</i>—according to God’s will; <i>my</i> Lilith lives, -according to My will. Come and see,—then perhaps you will understand -how it is that I—I, and not God any longer,—claim and possess the -Soul I saved!” -</p> - -<p> -With these words, uttered in a thrilling tone of pride and passion, he -opened the study door and, with a mute inviting gesture, led the way -out. In silence and with a pensive step, the monk slowly followed. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch20"> -XX. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Into</span> the beautiful room, glowing with its regal hues of gold and -purple, where the spell-bound Lilith lay, El-Râmi led his thoughtful -and seemingly reluctant guest. Zaroba met them on the threshold and -was about to speak,—but at an imperative sign from her master she -refrained, and contented herself merely with a searching and -inquisitive glance at the stately monk, the like of whom she had never -seen before. She had good cause to be surprised,—for, in all the time -she had known him, El-Râmi had never permitted any visitor to enter -the shrine of Lilith’s rest. Now he had made a new departure,—and in -the eagerness of her desire to know why this stranger was thus freely -admitted into the usually forbidden precincts she went her way -downstairs to seek Féraz, and learn from him the explanation of what -seemed so mysterious. But it was now past ten o’clock at night, and -Féraz was asleep,—fast locked in such a slumber that, though Zaroba -shook him and called him several times, she could not rouse him from -his deep and almost death-like torpor. Baffled in her attempt, she -gave it up at last, and descended to the kitchen to prepare her own -frugal supper,—resolving, however, that as soon as she heard Féraz -stirring she would put him through such a catechism that she would -find out, in spite of El-Râmi’s haughty reticence, the name of the -unknown visitor and the nature of his errand. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile, El-Râmi himself and his grave companion stood by the couch -of Lilith, and looked upon her in all her peaceful beauty for some -minutes in silence. Presently El-Râmi grew impatient at the absolute -impassiveness of the monk’s attitude and the strange look in his -eyes—a look which expressed nothing but solemn compassion and -reverence. -</p> - -<p> -“Well!” he exclaimed almost brusquely—“Now you see Lilith, as she -is.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not so!” said the monk quietly—“I do not see her as she is. But I -<i>have</i> seen her,—whereas, ... you have not!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi turned upon him somewhat angrily. -</p> - -<p> -“Why will you always speak in riddles?” he said—“In plain language, -what do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“In plain language I mean what I say”—returned the monk -composedly—“And I tell you I have seen Lilith. The Soul of Lilith -<i>is</i> Lilith;—not this brittle casket made of earthly materials which -we now look upon, and which is preserved from decomposition by an -electric fluid. But—beautiful as it is—it is a corpse—and nothing -more.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi regarded him with an expression of haughty amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“Can a corpse breathe?” he inquired—“Can a corpse have colour and -movement? This Body was the body of a child when first I began my -experiment,—now it is a woman’s form full grown and perfect—and you -tell me it is a corpse!” -</p> - -<p> -“I tell you no more than you told Féraz,” said the monk coldly—“When -the boy transgressed your command and yielded to the suggestion of -your servant Zaroba, did you not assure him that Lilith was <i>dead</i>?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi started;—these words certainly gave him a violent shock of -amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“God!” he exclaimed—“How can you know all this? Where did you hear -it? Does the very air convey messages to you from a distance?—Does -the light copy scenes for you, or what is it that gives you such a -superhuman faculty for knowing everything you choose to know?” -</p> - -<p> -The monk smiled gravely. -</p> - -<p> -“I have only one method of work, El-Râmi”—he said—“And that method -you are perfectly aware of, though you would not adopt it when I would -have led you into its mystery. ‘No man cometh to the Father, but by -Me.’ You know that old well-worn text—read so often, heard so often, -that its true meaning is utterly lost sight of and forgotten. ‘Coming -to the Father’ means the attainment of a superhuman intuition—a -superhuman knowledge,—but, as you do not believe in these things, let -them pass. But you were perfectly right when you told Féraz that this -Lilith is dead;—of course she is dead,—dead as a plant that is dried -but has its colour preserved, and is made to move its leaves by -artificial means. This body’s breath is artificial,—the liquid in its -veins is not blood, but a careful compound of the electric fluid that -generates all life,—and it might be possible to preserve it thus for -ever. Whether its growth would continue is a scientific question; it -might and it might not,—probably it would cease if the Soul held no -more communication with it. For its growth, which you consider so -remarkable, is simply the result of a movement of the brain;—when you -force back the Spirit to converse through its medium, the brain -receives an impetus, which it communicates to the spine and -nerves,—the growth and extension of the muscles is bound to follow. -Nevertheless, it is really a chemically animated corpse; it is not -Lilith. Lilith herself I know.” -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith herself you know!” echoed El-Râmi, stupefied, “You know ...! -What is it that you would imply?” -</p> - -<p> -“I know Lilith”—said the monk steadily, “as you have never known her. -I have seen her as you have never seen her. She is a lonely -creature,—a wandering angel, for ever waiting,—for ever hoping. -Unloved, save by the Highest Love, she wends her flight from star to -star, from world to world,—a spirit beautiful, but incomplete as a -flower without its stem,—a bird without its mate. But her destiny is -changing,—she will not be alone for long,—the hours ripen to their -best fulfilment,—and Love, the crown and completion of her being, -will unbind her chains and send her soaring to the Highest Joy in the -glorious liberty of the free!” -</p> - -<p> -While he spoke thus, softly, yet with eloquence and passion, a dark -flush crept over El-Râmi’s face,—his eyes glittered and his hand -trembled—he seemed to be making some fierce inward resolve. He -controlled himself, however, and asked with a studied indifference— -</p> - -<p> -“Is this your prophecy?” -</p> - -<p> -“It is not a prophecy; it is a truth;” replied the monk gently—“If -you doubt me, why not ask Her? She is here.” -</p> - -<p> -“Here?” El-Râmi looked about vaguely, first at the speaker, then at -the couch where the so-called “corpse” lay breathing -tranquilly—“Here, did you say? Naturally,—of course she is here.” -</p> - -<p> -And his glance reverted again to Lilith’s slumbering form. -</p> - -<p> -“No—not <i>here</i>—” said the monk with a gesture towards the -couch—“but—<i>there</i>!” -</p> - -<p> -And he pointed to the centre of the room where the lamp shed a mellow -golden lustre on the pansy-embroidered carpet, and where, from the -tall crystal vase of Venice ware, a fresh branching cluster of pale -roses exhaled their delicious perfume. El-Râmi stared, but could see -nothing,—nothing save the lamp-light and the nodding flowers. -</p> - -<p> -“There?” he repeated bewildered—“Where?” -</p> - -<p> -“Alas for you, that you cannot see her!” said the monk -compassionately. “This blindness of your sight proves that for you the -veil has not yet been withdrawn. Lilith is there, I tell you;—she -stands close to those roses,—her white form radiates like -lightning—her hair is like the glory of the sunshine on amber,—her -eyes are bent upon the flowers, which are fully conscious of her -shining presence. For flowers are aware of angels’ visits, when men -see nothing! Round her and above her are the trailing films of light -caught from the farthest stars,—she is alone as usual,—her looks are -wistful and appealing,—will you not speak to her?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi’s surprise, vexation, and fear were beyond all words as he -heard this description,—then he became scornful and incredulous. -</p> - -<p> -“Speak to her!” he repeated—“Nay—if you see her as plainly as you -say—let <i>her</i> speak!” -</p> - -<p> -“You will not understand her speech—” said the monk—“Not unless it -be conveyed to you in earthly words through that earthly medium -there—” and he pointed to the fair form on the couch—“But, otherwise -you will not know what she is saying. Nevertheless—if you wish -it,—she shall speak.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wish nothing—” said El-Râmi quickly and haughtily—“If you -imagine you see her,—and if you can command this creature of your -imagination to speak, why, do so; but Lilith, as <i>I</i> know her, speaks -to none save me.” -</p> - -<p> -The monk lifted his hands with a solemn movement as of prayer— -</p> - -<p> -“Soul of Lilith!” he said entreatingly—“Angel-wanderer in the spheres -beloved of God—if, by the Master’s grace, I have seen the vision -clearly—speak!” -</p> - -<p> -Silence followed. El-Râmi fixed his eyes on Lilith’s visible -recumbent form; no voice could make reply, he thought, save that which -must issue from those lovely lips curved close in placid slumber,—but -the monk’s gaze was fastened in quite an opposite direction. All at -once a strain of music, soft as a song played on the water by -moonlight, rippled through the room. With mellow richness the cadence -rose and fell,—it had a marvellous sweet sound, rhythmical and -suggestive of words,—unimaginable words, fairies’ language,—anything -that was removed from mortal speech, but that was all the same capable -of utterance. El-Râmi listened perplexed;—he had never heard -anything so convincingly, almost painfully sweet,—till suddenly it -ceased as it had begun, abruptly, and the monk looked round at him. -</p> - -<p> -“You heard her?” he inquired—“Did you understand?” -</p> - -<p> -“Understand what?” asked El-Râmi impatiently—“I heard music—nothing -more.” -</p> - -<p> -The monk’s eyes rested upon him in grave compassion. -</p> - -<p> -“Your spiritual perception does not go far, El-Râmi Zarânos—” he -said gently—“Lilith spoke;—her voice was the music.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi trembled;—for once his strong nerves were somewhat shaken. -The man beside him was one whom he knew to be absolutely truthful, -unselfishly wise,—one who scorned “trickery” and who had no motive -for deceiving him,—one also who was known to possess a strange and -marvellous familiarity with “things unproved and unseen.” In spite of -his sceptical nature, all he dared assume against his guest was that -he was endowed with a perfervid imagination which persuaded him of the -existence of what were really only the “airy nothings” of his brain. -The irreproachable grandeur, purity, and simplicity of the monk’s life -as known among his brethren were of an ideal perfection never before -attempted or attained by man,—and as he met the steady, piercing -<i>faithful</i> look of his companion’s eyes,—clear fine eyes such as, -reverently speaking, one might have imagined the Christ to have had -when in the guise of humanity He looked love on all the -world,—El-Râmi was fairly at a loss for words. Presently he -recovered himself sufficiently to speak, though his accents were -hoarse and tremulous. -</p> - -<p> -“I will not doubt you;—” he said slowly—“But if the Soul of Lilith -is here present as you say,—and if it spoke, surely I may know the -purport of its language!” -</p> - -<p> -“Surely you may!” replied the monk—“Ask her in your own way to repeat -what she said just now. There—” and he smiled gravely as he pointed -to the couch—“there is your human phonograph!” -</p> - -<p> -Perplexed, but willing to solve the mystery, El-Râmi bent above the -slumbering girl, and, taking her hands in his own, called her by name -in his usual manner. The reply came soon—though somewhat faintly. -</p> - -<p> -“I am here!” -</p> - -<p> -“How long have you been here?” asked El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“Since my friend came.” -</p> - -<p> -“Who is that friend, Lilith?” -</p> - -<p> -“One that is near you now—” was the response. -</p> - -<p> -“Did you speak to this friend a while ago?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -The answer was more like a sigh than an assent. -</p> - -<p> -“Can you repeat what you said?” -</p> - -<p> -Lilith stretched her fair arms out with a gesture of weariness. -</p> - -<p> -“I said I was tired—” she murmured—“Tired of the search through -Infinity for things that are not. A wayward will bids me look for -evil—I search, but cannot find it;—for Hell, a place of pain and -torment,—up and down, around and around the everlasting circles I -wend my way, and can discover no such abode of misery. Then I bring -back the messages of truth,—but they are rejected, and I am -sorrowful. All the realms of God are bright with beauty save this one -dark prison of Man’s fantastic Dream. Why am I bound here? I long to -reach the light!—I am tired of the darkness!” She paused—then -added—“This is what I said to one who is my friend.” -</p> - -<p> -Vaguely pained, and stricken with a sudden remorse, El-Râmi asked: -</p> - -<p> -“Am not I your friend, Lilith?” -</p> - -<p> -A shudder ran through her delicate limbs. Then the answer came -distinctly, yet reluctantly: -</p> - -<p> -“No!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi dropped her hands as though he had been stung;—his face was -very pale. The monk touched him on the shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -“Why are you so moved?” he asked—“A spirit cannot lie;—an angel -cannot flatter. How should she call you friend?—you, who detain her -here solely for your own interested purposes?—To you she is a -‘subject’ merely,—no more than the butterfly dissected by the -naturalist. The butterfly has hopes, ambitions, loves, delights, -innocent wishes, nay, even a religion,—what are all these to the grim -spectacled scientist who breaks its delicate wings? The Soul of -Lilith, like a climbing flower, strains instinctively upward,—but you -(for a certain time only)—according to the natural magnetic laws -which compel the stronger to subdue the weaker, have been able to keep -this, her ethereal essence, a partial captive under your tyrannical -dominance. Yes—I say ‘tyrannical,’—great wisdom should inspire -love,—but in you it only inspires despotism. Yet with all your skill -and calculation you have strangely overlooked one inevitable result of -your great experiment.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked up inquiringly, but said nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“How it is that you have not foreseen this thing I cannot -imagine”—continued the monk—“The body of Lilith has grown under your -very eyes from the child to the woman by the merest material -means,—the chemicals which Nature gives us, and the forces which -Nature allows us to employ. How then should you deem it possible for -the Soul to remain stationary? With every fresh experience its form -expands—its desires increase,—its knowledge widens,—and the -everlasting necessity of Love compels its life to Love’s primeval -source. The Soul of Lilith is awakening to its fullest immortal -consciousness,—she realises her connection with the great angelic -worlds—her kindredship with those worlds’ inhabitants, and, as she -gains this glorious knowledge more certainly, so she gains strength. -And this is the result I warn you of—her force will soon baffle -yours, and you will have no more influence over her than you have over -the highest Archangel in the realms of the Supreme Creator.” -</p> - -<p> -“A woman’s Soul!—only a woman’s soul, remember that!” said El-Râmi -dreamily—“How should it baffle mine? Of slighter character—of more -sensitive balance—and always prone to yield,—how should it prove so -strong? Though, of course, you will tell me that Souls, like Angels, -are sexless.” -</p> - -<p> -“I will tell you nothing of the sort”—said the monk quietly. “Because -it would not be true. All created things have sex, even the angels. -‘Male and Female created He them’—recollect that,—when it is said -God made Man in ‘His Own Image.’” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -“What! Is it possible you would endow God Himself with the Feminine -attributes as well as the Masculine?” -</p> - -<p> -“There are two governing forces of the Universe,” replied the monk -deliberately—“One, the masculine, is Love,—the other, feminine, is -Beauty. These Two, reigning together, are GOD;—just as man and wife -are One. From Love and Beauty proceed Law and Order. You cannot away -with it—it is so. Love and Beauty produce and reproduce a million -forms with more than a million variations—and when God made Man in -His Own Image it was as Male and Female. From the very first growths -of life in all worlds,—from the small, almost imperceptible beginning -of that marvellous evolution which resulted in Humanity,—evolution -which to us is calculated to have taken thousands of years, whereas in -the eternal countings it has occupied but a few moments, Sex was -proclaimed in the lowliest sea-plants, of which the only remains we -have are in the Silurian formations,—and was equally maintained in -the humblest <i>lingula</i> inhabiting its simple bivalve shell. Sex is -proclaimed throughout the Universe with an absolute and unswerving -regularity through all grades of nature. Nay, there are even male and -female Atmospheres which when combined produce forms of life.” -</p> - -<p> -“You go far,—I should say much too far in your supposed law!” said -El-Râmi wonderingly and a little derisively. -</p> - -<p> -“And you, my good friend, stop short,—and oppose yourself against all -law, when it threatens to interfere with your work”—retorted the -monk—“The proof is, that you are convinced you can keep the Soul of -Lilith to wait upon your will at pleasure like another Ariel. Whereas -the law is, that at the destined moment she shall be free. Wise -Shakespeare can teach you this,—Prospero had to give his ‘fine -spirit’ liberty in the end. If you could shut Lilith up in her mortal -frame again, to live a mortal life, the case might be different; but -that you cannot do, since the mortal frame is too dead to be capable -of retaining such a Fire-Essence as hers is now.” -</p> - -<p> -“You think that?” queried El-Râmi,—he spoke mechanically,—his -thoughts were travelling elsewhere in a sudden new direction of their -own. -</p> - -<p> -The monk regarded him with friendly but always compassionate eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“I not only think it—I know it!” he replied. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi met his gaze fixedly. -</p> - -<p> -“You would seem to know most things,”—he observed—“Now in this -matter I consider that I am more humble-minded than yourself. For I -cannot say I ‘know’ anything,—the whole solar system appears to me to -be in a gradually changing condition,—and each day one set of facts -is followed by another entirely new set which replace the first and -render them useless——” -</p> - -<p> -“There is nothing useless,” interposed the monk—“not even a so-called -‘fact’ disproved. Error leads to the discovery of Truth. And Truth -always discloses the one great unalterable fact,—GOD.” -</p> - -<p> -“As I told you, I must have proofs of God”—said El-Râmi with a chill -smile—“Proofs that satisfy <i>me</i>, personally speaking. At present I -believe in Force only.” -</p> - -<p> -“And how is Force generated?” inquired the monk. -</p> - -<p> -“That we shall discover in time. And not only the How, but also the -Why. In the meantime we must prove and test all possibilities, both -material and spiritual. And as far as such proving goes I think you -can scarcely deny that this experiment of mine on the girl Lilith is a -wonderful one?” -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot grant you that;”—returned the monk gravely—“Most Eastern -magnetists can do what you have done, provided they have the necessary -Will. To detach the Soul from the body, and yet keep the body alive, -is an operation that has been performed by others and will be -performed again,—but to keep Body and Soul struggling against each -other in unnatural conflict requires cruelty as well as Will. It is, -as I before observed, the vivisection of a butterfly. The scientist -does not think himself barbarous—but his barbarity outweighs his -science all the same.” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean to say there is nothing surprising in my work?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why should there be?” said the monk curtly—“Barbarism is not -wonderful! What is truly a matter for marvel is Yourself. You are the -most astonishing example of self-inflicted blindness I have ever -known!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi breathed quickly,—he was deeply angered, but he had -self-possession enough not to betray it. As he stood, sullenly silent, -his guest’s hand fell gently on his shoulder—his guest’s eyes looked -earnest love and pity into his own. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi Zarânos,” he said softly—“You know me. You know I would -not lie to you. Hear then my words;—As I see a bird on the point of -flight, or a flower just ready to break into bloom, even so I see the -Soul of Lilith. She is on the verge of the Eternal Light—its rippling -wave,—the great sweet wave that lifts us upward,—has already touched -her delicate consciousness,—her aerial organism. You—with your -brilliant brain, your astonishing grasp and power over material -forces—you are on the verge of darkness,—such a gulf of it as cannot -be measured—such a depth as cannot be sounded. Why will you fall? Why -do you choose Darkness rather than Light?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because my ‘deeds are evil,’ I suppose,” retorted El-Râmi -bitterly—“You should finish the text while you are about it. I think -you misjudge me,—however, you have not heard all. You consider my -labour as vain, and my experiment futile,—but I have some strange -results yet to show you in writing. And what I have written I desire -to place in your hands that you may take all to the monastery, and -keep my discoveries,—if they <i>are</i> discoveries, among the archives. -What may seem the wildest notions to the scientists of to-day may -prove of practical utility hereafter.” -</p> - -<p> -He paused, and, bending over Lilith, took her hand and called her by -name. The reply came rather more quickly than usual. -</p> - -<p> -“I am here!” -</p> - -<p> -“Be here no longer, Lilith”—said El-Râmi, speaking with unusual -gentleness,—“Go home to that fair garden you love, on the high hills -of the bright world called Alcyone. There rest, and be happy till I -summon you to earth again.” -</p> - -<p> -He released her hand,—it fell limply in its usual position on her -breast,—and her face became white and rigid as sculptured marble. He -watched her lying so for a minute or two, then turning to the monk, -observed— -</p> - -<p> -“She has left us at once, as you see. Surely you will own that I do -not grudge her her liberty?” -</p> - -<p> -“Her liberty is not complete”—said the monk quietly—“Her happiness -therefore is only temporary.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders indifferently. -</p> - -<p> -“What does that matter if, as you declare, her time of captivity is -soon to end? According to your prognostications she will ere long set -herself free.” -</p> - -<p> -The monk’s fine eyes flashed forth a calm and holy triumph. -</p> - -<p> -“Most assuredly she will!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him and seemed about to make some angry retort, -but, checking himself, he bowed with a kind of mingled submissiveness -and irony, saying— -</p> - -<p> -“I will not be so discourteous as to doubt your word! But—I would -only remind you that nothing in this world is certain——” -</p> - -<p> -“Except the Law of God!” interrupted the monk with passionate -emphasis—“That is immutable,—and against that, El-Râmi Zarânos, -you contend in vain! Opposed to that, your strength and power must -come to naught,—and all they who wonder at your skill and wisdom -shall by and by ask one another the old question—‘<i>What went ye out -for to see?</i>’ And the answer shall describe your fate—‘<i>A reed shaken -by the wind!</i>’” -</p> - -<p> -He turned away as he spoke and, without another look at the beautiful -Lilith, he left the room. El-Râmi stood irresolute for a moment, -thinking deeply,—then, touching the bell which would summon Zaroba -back to her usual duty of watching the tranced girl, he swiftly -followed his mysterious guest. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch21"> -XXI. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">He</span> found him quietly seated in the study, close beside the window, -which he had thrown open for air. The rain had ceased,—a few stars -shone out in the misty sky, and there was a fresh smell of earth and -grass and flowers, as though all were suddenly growing together by -some new impetus. -</p> - -<p> -“‘The winter is past,—the rain is over and gone!—Arise, my love, my -fair one, and come away!’” quoted the monk softly, half to himself and -half to El-Râmi as he saw the latter enter the room—“Even in this -great and densely-peopled city of London, Nature sends her messengers -of spring—see here!” -</p> - -<p> -And he held out on his hand a delicate insect with shining iridescent -wings that glistened like jewels. -</p> - -<p> -“This creature flew in as I opened the window,” he continued, -surveying it tenderly. “What quaint and charming stories of -Flower-land it could tell us if we could but understand its language! -Of the poppy-palaces, and rose-leaf saloons coloured through by the -kindly sun,—of the loves of the ladybirds and the political -controversies of the bees! How dare we make a boast of wisdom!—this -tiny denizen of air baffles us—it knows more than we do.” -</p> - -<p> -“With regard to the things of its own sphere it knows more, -doubtless,” said El-Râmi—“but concerning <i>our</i> part of creation it -knows less. These things are equally balanced. You seem to me to be -more of a poet than either a devotee or a scientist.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps I am!” and the monk smiled, as he carefully wafted the pretty -insect out into the darkness of the night again—“Yet poets are often -the best scientists, because they never <i>know</i> they are scientists. -They arrive by a sudden intuition at the facts which it takes several -Professors Dry-as-Dust years to discover. When once you feel you are a -scientist, it is all over with you. You are a clever biped who has got -hold of a crumb out of the universal loaf, and for all your days -afterwards you are turning that crumb over and over under your -analytical lens. But a poet takes up the whole loaf unconsciously, and -hands portions of it about at haphazard and with the abstracted -behaviour of one in a dream,—a wild and extravagant process,—but -then, what would you?—his nature could not do with a crumb. No—I -dare not call myself ‘poet’; if I gave myself any title at all, I -would say, with all humbleness, that I am a sympathiser.” -</p> - -<p> -“You do not sympathise with <i>me</i>,” observed El-Râmi gloomily. -</p> - -<p> -“My friend, at the immediate moment, you do not need my sympathy. You -are sufficient for yourself. But, should you ever make a claim upon -me, be sure I shall not fail.” -</p> - -<p> -He spoke earnestly and cheerily, and smiled,—but El-Râmi did not -return the smile. He was bending over a deep drawer in his -writing-table, and after a little search he took out two bulky rolls -of manuscript tied and sealed. -</p> - -<p> -“Look there!” he said, indicating the titles with an air of triumph. -</p> - -<p> -The monk obeyed and read aloud: -</p> - -<p> -“‘The Inhabitants of Sirius. Their Laws, Customs and Progress.’ Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well!” echoed El-Râmi.—“Is such information, gained from Lilith in -her wanderings, of <i>no</i> value?” -</p> - -<p> -The monk made no direct reply, but read the title of the second MS. -</p> - -<p> -“‘The World of Neptune. How it is composed of One Thousand Distinct -Nations, united under one reigning Emperor, known at the present era -as Ustalvian the Tenth.’ And again I say—well? What of all this, -except to hazard the remark that Ustalvian is a great creature, and -supports his responsibilities admirably?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi gave a gesture of irritation and impatience. -</p> - -<p> -“Surely it must interest you?” he said.—“Surely you cannot have known -these things positively——” -</p> - -<p> -“Stop, stop, my friend!” interposed the monk—“Do <i>you</i> know them -<i>positively</i>? Do you accept any of Lilith’s news as <i>positive</i>? -Come,—you are honest—confess you do not! You cannot believe her, -though you are puzzled to make out as to where she obtains information -which has certainly nothing to do with this world, or any external -impression. And that is why she is really a sphinx to you still, in -spite of your power over her. As for being interested, of course I am -interested. It is impossible not to be interested in everything, even -in the development of a grub. But you have not made any discovery that -is specially new—to <i>me</i>. I have my own messenger!” He raised his -eyes one moment with a brief devout glance—then resumed -quietly—“There are other ‘detached’ spirits, besides that of your -Lilith, who have found their way to some of the planets, and have -returned to tell the tale. In one of our monasteries we have a very -exact description of Mars obtained in this same way—its landscapes, -its cities, its people, its various nations—all very concisely given. -These are but the beginnings of discoveries—the feeling for the -clue,—the clue itself will be found one day.” -</p> - -<p> -“The clue to what?” demanded El-Râmi. “To the stellar mysteries, or -to Life’s mystery?” -</p> - -<p> -“To everything!” replied the monk firmly. “To everything that seems -unclear and perplexing now. It will all be unravelled for us in such a -simple way that we shall wonder why we did not discover it before. As -I told you, my friend, I am, above all things, a <i>sympathiser</i>. I -sympathise—God knows how deeply and passionately,—with what I may -call the unexplained woe of the world. The other day I visited a poor -fellow who had lost his only child. He told me he could believe in -nothing,—he said that what people call the goodness of God was only -cruelty. ‘Why take this boy?’ he cried, rocking the pretty little -corpse to and fro on his breast—‘Why rob me of the chief thing I had -to live for? Oh, if I only <i>knew</i>—as positively as I know day is day, -and night is night—that I should see my living child again, and -possess his love in another world than this, should I repine as I do? -No,—I should believe in God’s wisdom,—and I should try to be a good -man instead of a bad. But it is because I do not know, that I am -broken-hearted. If there is a God, surely He might have given us some -little <i>certain</i> clue by way of help and comfort!’ Thus he -wailed,—and my heart ached for him. Nevertheless, the clue is to be -had,—and I believe it will be found suddenly in some little, -deeply-hidden unguessed law,—we are on the track of it, and I fancy -we shall soon find it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!—and what of the millions of creatures who, in the bygone eras, -having no clue, have passed away without any sort of comfort?” asked -El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“Nature takes time to manifest her laws,” replied the monk.—“And it -must be remembered that what <i>we</i> call ‘time’ is not Nature’s counting -at all. The method Nature has of counting time may be faintly guessed -by proven scientific fact,—as, for instance, take the comet which -appeared in 1744. Strict mathematicians calculated that this brilliant -world (for it is a world) needs 122,683 years to perform one single -circuit! And yet the circuit of a comet is surely not so much time to -allow for God and Nature to declare a meaning!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi shuddered slightly. -</p> - -<p> -“All the same, it is horrible to think of,” he said.—“All those -enormous periods,—those eternal vastnesses! For, during the 122,683 -years we die, and pass into the silence.” -</p> - -<p> -“Into the silence or the explanation?” queried the monk softly.—“For -there <i>is</i> an Explanation,—and we are all bound to know it at some -time or other, else Creation would be but a poor and bungling -business.” -</p> - -<p> -“If <i>we</i> are bound to know,” said El-Râmi, “then every living -creature is bound to know, since every living creature suffers -cruelly, in wretched ignorance of the cause of its suffering. To every -atom, no matter how infinitely minute, must be given this -‘explanation,’—to dogs and birds as well as men—nay, even to flowers -must be declared the meaning of the mystery.” -</p> - -<p> -“Unless the flowers know already!” suggested the monk with a -smile.—“Which is quite possible!” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, everything is ‘possible’ according to your way of thinking,” said -El-Râmi somewhat impatiently. “If one is a visionary, one would -scarcely be surprised to see the legended ‘Jacob’s ladder’ leaning -against that dark midnight sky and the angels descending and ascending -upon it. And so—” here he touched the two rolls of manuscript lying -on the table, “you find no use in these?” -</p> - -<p> -“I personally have no use for them,” responded his guest, “but, as you -desire it, I will take charge of them and place them in safe keeping -at the monastery. Every little link helps to forge the chain of -discovery, of course. By the way, while on this subject, I must not -forget to speak to you about poor old Kremlin. I had a letter from him -about two months ago. I very much fear that famous disc of his will be -his ruin.” -</p> - -<p> -“Such an intimation will console him vastly!” observed El-Râmi -sarcastically. -</p> - -<p> -“Consolation has nothing to do with the matter. If a man rushes -wilfully into danger, danger will not move itself out of the way for -him. I always told Kremlin that his proposed design was an unsafe one, -even before he went out to Africa fifteen years ago in search of the -magnetic spar—a crystalline formation whose extraordinary -reflection-power he learned from me. However, it must be admitted that -he has come marvellously close to the unravelling of the enigma at -which he works. And when you see him next you may tell him from me -that if he can—mind, it is a very big ‘if’—if he can follow the -movements of the Third Ray on his disc he will be following the -signals from Mars. To make out the meaning of those signals is quite -another matter—but he can safely classify them as the -light-vibrations from that particular planet.” -</p> - -<p> -“How is he to tell which is the Third Ray that falls, among a fleeting -thousand?” asked El-Râmi dubiously. -</p> - -<p> -“It will be difficult of course, but he can try,” returned the -monk.—“Let him first cover the disc with thick, dark drapery, and -then, when it is face to face with the stars in the zenith, uncover it -quickly, keeping his eyes fixed on its surface. In one minute there -will be three distinct flashes—the third is from Mars. Let him -endeavour to follow that third ray in its course on the disc, and -probably he will arrive at something worth remark. This suggestion I -offer by way of assisting him, for his patient labour is both -wonderful and pathetic,—but,—it would be far better and wiser were -he to resign his task altogether. Yet—who knows!—the ordained end -may be the best!” -</p> - -<p> -“And do you know this ‘ordained end’?” questioned El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -The monk met his incredulous gaze calmly. -</p> - -<p> -“I know it as I know yours,” he replied. “As I know my own, and the -end (or beginning) of all those who are, or who have been, in any way -connected with my life and labours.” -</p> - -<p> -“How <i>can</i> you know!” exclaimed El-Râmi brusquely.—“Who is there to -tell you these things that are surely hidden in the future?” -</p> - -<p> -“Even as a picture already hangs in an artist’s brain before it is -painted,” said the monk,—“so does every scene of each human unit’s -life hang, embryo-like, in air and space, in light and colour. -Explanations of these things are well-nigh impossible—it is not given -to mortal speech to tell them. One must <i>see</i>,—and to see clearly, -one must not become wilfully blind.” He paused,—then added—“For -instance, El-Râmi, I would that you could see this room as I see it.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked about half carelessly, half wonderingly. -</p> - -<p> -“And do I not?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -The monk stretched out his hand. -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me first,—is there anything visible between this my extended -arm and you?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing.” -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon the monk raised his eyes, and in a low thrilling voice said -solemnly— -</p> - -<p> -“O God with whom Thought is Creation and Creation Thought, for one -brief moment be pleased to lift material darkness from the sight of -this man Thy subject-creature, and by Thy sovereign-power permit him -to behold with mortal eyes, in mortal life, Thy deathless Messenger!” -</p> - -<p> -Scarcely had these words been pronounced than El-Râmi was conscious -of a blinding flash of fire as though sudden lightning had struck the -room from end to end. Confused and dazzled, he instinctively covered -his eyes with his hand, then removing it, looked up, stupefied, -speechless, and utterly overwhelmed at what he saw. Clear before him -stood a wondrous Shape, seemingly human, yet unlike humanity,—a -creature apparently composed of radiant colour, from whose -transcendent form great shafts of gold and rose and purple spread -upward and around in glowing lines of glory. This marvellous Being -stood, or rather was poised in a steadfast attitude, between him, -El-Râmi, and the monk,—its luminous hands were stretched out on -either side as though to keep those twain asunder—its starry eyes -expressed an earnest watchfulness—its majestic patience never seemed -to tire. A thing of royal stateliness and power, it stayed there -immovable, parting with its radiant intangible Presence the two men -who gazed upon it, one with fearless, reverent, yet accustomed -eyes—the other with a dazzled and bewildered stare. Another moment -and El-Râmi at all risks would have spoken,—but that the Shining -Figure lifted its light-crowned head and gazed at him. The wondrous -look appalled him,—unnerved him,—the straight, pure brilliancy and -limpid lustre of those unearthly orbs sent shudders through him,—he -gasped for breath—thrust out his hands, and fell on his knees in a -blind, unconscious, swooning act of adoration, mingled with a sense of -awe and something like despair,—when a dense chill darkness as of -death closed over him, and he remembered nothing more. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch22"> -XXII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">When</span> he came to himself, it was full daylight. His head was resting -on some one’s knee,—some one was sprinkling cold water on his face -and talking to him in an incoherent mingling of Arabic and -English,—who was that some one? Féraz? Yes!—surely it was Féraz! -Opening his eyes languidly, he stared about him and attempted to rise. -</p> - -<p> -“What is the matter?” he asked faintly. “What are you doing to me? I -am quite well, am I not?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes!” cried Féraz eagerly, delighted to hear him speak.—“You -are well,—it was a swoon that seized you—nothing more! But I was -anxious,—I found you here insensible——” -</p> - -<p> -With an effort El-Râmi rose to his feet, steadying himself on his -brother’s arm. -</p> - -<p> -“Insensible!” he repeated vaguely.—“Insensible!—that is strange!—I -must have been very weak and tired—and overpowered. But,—where is -He?” -</p> - -<p> -“If you mean the Master,” said Féraz, lowering his voice to an almost -awe-stricken whisper—“He has gone, and left no trace,—save that -sealed paper there upon your table.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi shook himself free of his brother’s hold and hurried forward -to possess himself of the indicated missive,—seizing it, he tore it -quickly open,—it contained but one line—“<i>Beware the end! With -Lilith’s love comes Lilith’s freedom.</i>” -</p> - -<p> -That was all. He read it again and again—then deliberately striking a -match, he set fire to it and burnt it to ashes. A rapid glance round -showed him that the manuscripts concerning Neptune and Sirius were -gone,—the mysterious monk had evidently taken them with him as -desired. Then he turned again to his brother. -</p> - -<p> -“When could he have gone?” he demanded.—“Did you not hear the -street-door open and shut?—no sound at all of his departure?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -“I slept heavily,” he said apologetically. “But in my dreams it seemed -as though a hand touched me, and I awoke. The sun was shining -brilliantly—some one called ‘Féraz! Féraz!’—I thought it was your -voice, and I hurried into the room to find you, as I thought, -dead,—oh! the horror of that moment of suspense!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him kindly, and smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“Why feel horror, my dear boy?” he inquired.—“Death—or what we call -death,—is the best possible fortune for everybody. Even if there were -no afterwards, it would still be an end—an end of trouble and tedium -and infinite uncertainty. Could anything be happier?—I doubt it!” -</p> - -<p> -And, sighing, he threw himself into his chair with an air of -exhaustion. Féraz stood a little apart, gazing at him somewhat -wistfully—then he spoke— -</p> - -<p> -“I too have thought that, El-Râmi,” he said softly.—“As to whether -this end, which the world and all men dread, might not be the best -thing? And yet my own personal sensations tell me that life means -something good for me if I only learn how best to live it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Youth, my dear fellow!” said El-Râmi lightly. “Delicious -youth,—which you share in common with the scampering colt who -imagines all the meadows of the world were made for him to race upon. -This is the potent charm which persuades you that life is agreeable. -But unfortunately it will pass,—this rosy morning-glory. And the -older you grow the wiser and the sadder you will be,—I, your brother, -am an excellent example of the truth of this platitude.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are not old,” replied Féraz quickly. “But certainly you are -often sad. You overwork your brain. For example, last night of course -you did not sleep—will you sleep now?” -</p> - -<p> -“No—I will breakfast,” said El-Râmi, rousing himself to seem -cheerful.—“A good cup of coffee is one of the boons of existence—and -no one can make it as you do. It will put the finishing touch to my -complete recovery.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz took this hint, and hastened off to prepare the desired -beverage,—while El-Râmi, left alone, sat for a few moments wrapped -in a deep reverie. His thoughts reverted to and dwelt upon the strange -and glorious Figure he had seen standing in that very room between him -and the monk,—he wondered doubtfully if such a celestial visitant -were anywhere near him now? Shaking off the fantastic impression, he -got up and walked to and fro. -</p> - -<p> -“What a fool I am!” he exclaimed half aloud—“As if <i>my</i> eyes could -not be as much deluded for once in a way as the eyes of any one else! -It was a strange shape,—a marvellously divine-looking -apparition;—but <i>he</i> evolved it—he is as great a master in the art -of creating phantasma as Moses himself, and could, if he chose, make -thunder echo at his will on another Mount Sinai. Upon my word, the -things that men <i>can</i> do are as wonderful as the things that they -would fain attempt; and the only miraculous part of this particular -man’s force is that he should have overpowered <span class="sc">Me</span>, seeing I am so -strong. And then one other marvel—(if it be true),—he could <i>see</i> -the Soul of Lilith.” -</p> - -<p> -Here he came to a full stop in his walk, and with his eyes fixed on -vacancy he repeated musingly— -</p> - -<p> -“He could <i>see</i> the Soul of Lilith. If that is so—if that is -possible, then I will see it too, if I die in the attempt. To <i>see</i> -the Soul—to look upon it and know its form—to discern the manner of -its organisation, would surely be to prove it. Sight can be deceived, -we know—we look upon a star (or think we look upon it), that may have -disappeared some thirty thousand years ago, as it takes thirty -thousand years for its reflex to reach us—all that is true—but there -are ways of guarding against deception.” -</p> - -<p> -He had now struck upon a new line of thought,—ideas more daring than -he had ever yet conceived began to flit through his brain,—and when -Féraz came in with the breakfast he partook of that meal with avidity -and relish, his excellent appetite entirely reassuring his brother -with regard to his health. -</p> - -<p> -“You are right, Féraz,” he said, as he sipped his coffee.—“Life can -be made enjoyable after a fashion, no doubt. But the best way to get -enjoyment out of it is to be always at work—always putting a brick in -to help the universal architecture.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz was silent. El-Râmi looked at him inquisitively. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you agree with me?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“No—not entirely”—and Féraz pushed the clustering hair off his brow -with a slightly troubled gesture.—“Work may become as monotonous and -wearisome as anything else if we have too much of it. If we are always -working—that is, if we are always obtruding ourselves into affairs -and thinking they cannot get on without us, we make an obstruction in -the way, I think—we are not a help. Besides, we leave ourselves no -time to absorb suggestions, and I fancy a great deal is learned by -simply keeping the brain quiet and absorbing light.” -</p> - -<p> -“‘Absorbing light’?” queried his brother perplexedly—“What do you -mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, it is difficult to explain my meaning,” said Féraz with -hesitation—“but yet I feel there is truth in what I try to express. -You see, everything absorbs something, and you will assuredly admit -that the brain absorbs certain impressions?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course,—but impressions are not ‘light’?” -</p> - -<p> -“Are they not? Not even the effects of light? Then what is the art of -photography? However, I do not speak of the impressions received from -our merely external surroundings. If you can relieve the brain from -<i>conscious</i> thought,—if you have the power to shake off outward -suggestions and be willing to think of nothing personal, your brain -will receive impressions which are to some extent new, and with which -you actually have very little connection. It is strange,—but it is -so;—you become obediently receptive, and perhaps wonder where your -ideas come from. I say they are the result of light. Light can use up -immense periods of time in travelling from a far distant star into our -area of vision, and yet at last we see it,—shall not God’s -inspiration travel at a far swifter pace than star-beams, and reach -the human brain as surely? This thought has often startled me,—it has -filled me with an almost apprehensive awe,—the capabilities it opens -up are so immense and wonderful. Even a man can suggest ideas to his -fellow-man and cause them to germinate in the mind and blossom into -action,—how can we deny to God the power to do the same? And -so,—imagine it!—the first strain of the glorious <i>Tannhäuser</i> may -have been played on the harps of Heaven, and rolling sweetly through -infinite space may have touched in fine far echoes the brain of the -musician who afterwards gave it form and utterance—ah yes!—I would -love to think it were so!—I would love to think that -nothing,—nothing is truly ours; but that all the marvels of poetry, -of song, of art, of colour, of beauty, were only the echoes and -distant impressions of that eternal grandeur which comes hereafter!” -</p> - -<p> -His eyes flashed with all a poet’s enthusiasm,—he rose from the table -and paced the room excitedly, while his brother, sitting silent, -watched him meditatively. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi, you have no idea,” he continued—“of the wonders and -delights of the land I call my Star! You think it is a dream—an -unexplained portion of a splendid trance,—and I am now fully aware of -what I owe to your magnetic influence,—your forceful spell that rests -upon my life;—but see you!—when I am alone—quite, quite alone, when -you are absent from me, when you are not influencing me, it is then I -see the landscapes best,—it is then I hear my people sing! I let my -brain rest;—as far as it is possible, I think of nothing,—then -suddenly upon me falls the ravishment and ecstasy,—this world rolls -up as it were in a whirling cloud and vanishes, and lo! I find myself -at home. There is a stretch of forest-land in this Star of mine,—a -place all dusky green with shadows, and musical with the fall of -silvery waters,—that is my favourite haunt when I am there, for it -leads me on and on through grasses and tangles of wild flowers to what -I know and feel must be my own abode, where I should rest and sleep if -sleep were needful; but this abode I never reach; I am debarred from -entering in, and I do not know the reason why. The other day, when -wandering there, I met two maidens bearing flowers,—they stopped, -regarding me with pleased yet doubting eyes, and one said—‘Look you, -our lord is now returned!’ And the other sighed and answered—‘Nay! he -is still an exile and may not stay with us.’ Whereupon they bent their -heads, and, shrinking past me, disappeared. When I would have called -them back I woke!—to find that this dull earth was once again my -house of bondage.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi heard him with patient interest. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not deny, Féraz,” he said slowly, “that your impressions are -very strange——” -</p> - -<p> -“Very strange? Yes!” cried Féraz. “But very true!” -</p> - -<p> -He paused—then on a sudden impulse came close up to his brother, and -laid a hand on his shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -“And do you mean to tell me,” he asked, “that you who have studied so -much, and have mastered so much, yet receive <i>no</i> such impressions as -those I speak of?” -</p> - -<p> -A faint flush coloured El-Râmi’s olive skin. -</p> - -<p> -“Certain impressions come to me at times, of course,” he answered -slowly.—“And there have been certain seasons in my life when I have -had visions of the impossible. But I have a coldly-tempered -organisation, Féraz,—I am able to reason these things away.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, you can reason the whole world away if you choose,” said -Féraz.—“For it is nothing after all but a pinch of star-dust.” -</p> - -<p> -“If you can reason a thing away it does not exist,” observed El-Râmi -drily.—“Reduce the world, as you say, to a pinch of star-dust, still -the pinch of star-dust is <i>there</i>—it Exists.” -</p> - -<p> -“Some people doubt even that!” said Féraz, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, everything can be over-done,” replied his brother,—“even the -process of reasoning. We can, if we choose, ‘reason’ ourselves into -madness. There is a boundary-line to every science which the human -intellect dare not overstep.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wonder what and where is <i>your</i> boundary-line?” questioned Féraz -lightly.—“Have you laid one down for yourself at all? Surely -not!—for you are too ambitious.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi made no answer to this observation, but betook himself to his -books and papers. Féraz meanwhile set the room in order and cleared -away the breakfast,—and, these duties done, he quietly withdrew. Left -to himself, El-Râmi took from the centre drawer of his writing-table -a medium-sized manuscript book which was locked, and which he opened -by means of a small key that was attached to his watch-chain, and -bending over the title-page he critically examined it. Its heading ran -thus— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="sc">The New Religion</span> -</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="center"> -<i>A Reasonable Theory of Worship conformable to the Eternal and -Unalterable Laws of Nature.</i> -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -“The title does not cover all the ground,” he murmured as he -read.—“And yet how am I to designate it? It is a vast subject, and -presents different branches of treatment, and, after all said and -done, I may have wasted my time in planning it. Most likely I -have,—but there is no scientist living who would refuse to accept it. -The question is, shall I ever finish it?—shall I ever know positively -that there IS, without doubt, a conscious, personal Something or Some -one after death who enters at once upon another existence? My new -experiment will decide all—if I <i>see</i> the Soul of Lilith, all -hesitation will be at an end—I shall be sure of everything which now -seems uncertain. And then the triumph!—then the victory!” -</p> - -<p> -His eyes sparkled, and, dipping his pen in the ink, he prepared to -write, but ere he did so the message which the monk had left for him -to read recurred with a chill warning to his memory,— -</p> - -<p> -“Beware the end! With Lilith’s love comes Lilith’s freedom.” -</p> - -<p> -He considered the words for a moment apprehensively,—and then a proud -smile played round his mouth. -</p> - -<p> -“For a Master who has attained to some degree of wisdom, his intuition -is strangely erroneous this time,” he muttered. “For if there be any -dream of love in Lilith, that dream, that love is mine! And being -mine, who shall dispute possession,—who shall take her from me? No -one,—not even God,—for He does not break through the laws of Nature. -And by those laws I have kept Lilith—and even so I will keep her -still.” -</p> - -<p> -Satisfied with his own conclusions, he began to write, taking up the -thread of his theory of religion where he had left it on the previous -day. He had a brilliant and convincing style, and was soon deep in an -elaborate and eloquent disquisition on the superior scientific -reasoning contained in the ancient Eastern faiths, as compared with -the modern scheme of Christianity, which limits God’s power to this -world only, and takes no consideration of the fate of other visible -and far more splendid spheres. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch23"> -XXIII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">The</span> few days immediately following the visit of the mysterious monk -from Cyprus were quiet and uneventful enough. El-Râmi led the life of -a student and recluse; Féraz, too, occupied himself with books and -music, thinking much, but saying little. He had solemnly sworn never -again to make allusion to the forbidden subject of his brother’s great -experiment, and he meant to keep his vow. For, though he had in very -truth absolutely forgotten the name “Lilith,” he had not forgotten the -face of her whose beauty had surprised his senses and dazzled his -brain. She had become to him a nameless Wonder,—and from the sweet -remembrance of her loveliness he gained a certain consolation and -pleasure which he jealously and religiously kept to himself. He -thought of her as a poet may think of an ideal goddess seen in a -mystic dream,—but he never ventured to ask a question concerning her. -And even if he had wished to do so,—even if he had indulged the idea -of encouraging Zaroba to follow up the work she had begun by telling -him all she could concerning the beautiful tranced girl, that course -was now impossible. For Zaroba seemed stricken dumb as well as -deaf,—what had chanced to her he could not tell,—but a mysterious -silence possessed her; and, though her large black eyes were -sorrowfully eloquent, she never uttered a word. She came and went on -various household errands, always silently and with bent head,—she -looked older, feebler, wearier and sadder, but not so much as a -gesture escaped her that could be construed into a complaint. Once -Féraz made signs to her of inquiry after her health and -well-being—she smiled mournfully, but gave no other response, and, -turning away, left him hurriedly. He mused long and deeply upon all -this,—and, though he felt sure that Zaroba’s strange but resolute -speechlessness was his brother’s work, he dared not speculate too far -or inquire too deeply. For he fully recognised El-Râmi’s power,—a -power so scientifically balanced, and used with such terrible and -unerring precision, that there could be no opposition possible unless -one were of equal strength and knowledge. Féraz knew he could no more -compete with such a force than a mouse can wield a thunderbolt,—he -therefore deemed it best to resign himself to his destiny and wait the -course of events. -</p> - -<p> -“For,” he said within himself, “it is not likely one man should be -permitted to use such strange authority over natural forces long,—it -may be that God is trying him,—putting him to the proof, as it were, -to find out how far he will dare to go,—and then—ah then!—<i>what</i> -then? If his heart were dedicated to the service of God I should not -fear,—but—as it is, I dread the end!” -</p> - -<p> -His instinct was correct in this,—for in spite of his poetic and -fanciful temperament he had plenty of quick perception and he saw -plainly what El-Râmi himself was not very willing to -recognise,—namely, that in all the labour of his life, so far as it -had gone, he, El-Râmi, had rather opposed himself to the unseen -divine, than striven to incorporate himself with it. He preferred to -believe in natural Force only; his inclination was to deny the -possibility of anything behind that. He accepted the idea of -Immortality to a certain extent, because natural Force was for ever -giving him proofs of the perpetual regeneration of life—but that -there was a primal source of this generating influence,—One, great -and eternal, who would demand an account of all lives, and an accurate -summing-up of all words and actions,—in this, though he might assume -the virtue of faith, Féraz very well knew he had it not. Like the -greater majority of scientists and natural philosophers generally, -what Self could comprehend, he accepted,—but all that extended beyond -Self,—all that made of Self but a grain of dust in a vast -infinitude,—all that forced the creature to prostrate himself humbly -before the Creator and cry out “Lord, be merciful to me a sinner!” -this he tacitly and proudly rejected. For which reasons the gentle, -dreamy Féraz had good cause to fear,—and a foreboding voice for ever -whispered in his mind that man without God was as a world without -light,—a black chaos of blank unfruitfulness. -</p> - -<p> -With the ensuing week the grand “reception” to which El-Râmi and his -brother had been invited by Lord Melthorpe came off with great -<i>éclat</i>. Lady Melthorpe’s “crushes” were among the most brilliant of -the season, and this one was particularly so, as it was a special -function held for the entertainment of the distinguished Crown Prince -of a great nation. True, the distinguished Crown Prince was only -“timed” to look in a little after midnight for about ten minutes, but -the exceeding brevity of his stay was immaterial to the fashionable -throng. All that was needed was just the piquant flavour,—the -“passing” of a Royal Presence,—to make the gathering socially -complete. The rooms were crowded—so much so indeed that it was -difficult to take note of any one person in particular, yet, in spite -of this fact, there was a very general movement of interest and -admiration when El-Râmi entered with his young and handsome brother -beside him. Both had a look and manner too distinctly striking to -escape observation:—their olive complexions, black melancholy eyes, -and slim yet stately figures, were set off to perfection by the -richness of the Oriental dresses they wore; and the grave composure -and perfect dignity of their bearing offered a pleasing contrast to -the excited pushing, waddling, and scrambling indulged in by the -greater part of the aristocratic assemblage. Lady Melthorpe herself, a -rather pretty woman attired in a very æsthetic gown, and wearing her -brown hair all towzled and arranged <i>à la Grecque</i>, in diamond -bandeaux, caught sight of them at once, and was delighted. Such -picturesque-looking creatures were really ornaments to a room, she -thought with much interior satisfaction; and, wreathing her face with -smiles, she glided up to them. -</p> - -<p> -“I am so charmed, my dear El-Râmi!” she said, holding out her -jewelled hand.—“So charmed to see <i>you</i>—you so very seldom will come -to me! <i>And</i> your brother! So glad! Why did you never tell me you had -a brother? Naughty man! What is your brother’s name? Féraz? -Delightful!—it makes one think of Hafiz and Sadi and all those very -charming Eastern people. I must find some one interesting to introduce -to you. Will you wait here a minute—the crowd is so thick in the -centre of the room that really I’m afraid you will not be able to get -through it—<i>do</i> wait here, and I’ll bring the Baroness to you—don’t -you know the Baroness? Oh, she’s such a delightful creature—so clever -at palmistry! Yes—just stay where you are,—I’ll come back directly!” -</p> - -<p> -And with sundry good-humoured nods her ladyship swept away, while -Féraz glanced at his brother with an expression of amused inquiry. -</p> - -<p> -“That is Lady Melthorpe?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“That is Lady Melthorpe,” returned El-Râmi—“our hostess, and Lord -Melthorpe’s wife; his, ‘to have and to hold, for better for worse, for -richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honour, and -cherish till death do them part,’” and he smiled somewhat -satirically.—“It seems odd, doesn’t it?—I mean, such solemn words -sound out of place sometimes. Do you like her?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz made a slight sign in the negative. -</p> - -<p> -“She does not speak sincerely,” he said in a low tone. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear boy, you mustn’t expect any one to be ‘sincere’ in society. -You said you wanted to ‘see life’—very well, but it will never do to -begin by viewing it in that way. An outburst of actual sincerity in -this human <i>mêlée</i>”—and he glanced comprehensively over the -brilliant throng—“would be like a match to a gunpowder magazine—the -whole thing would blow up into fragments and be dispersed to the four -winds of heaven, leaving nothing behind but an evil odour.” -</p> - -<p> -“Better so,” said Féraz dreamily, “than that false hearts should be -mistaken for true.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him wistfully;—what a beautiful youth he really -was, with all that glow of thought and feeling in his dark eyes! How -different was his aspect from that of the jaded, cynical, vice-worn -young men of fashion, some of whom were pushing their way past at that -moment,—men in the twenties who had the air of being well on in the -forties, and badly preserved at that—wretched, pallid, languid, -exhausted creatures who had thrown away the splendid jewel of their -youth in a couple of years’ stupid dissipation and folly. At that -moment Lord Melthorpe, smiling and cordial, came up to them and shook -hands warmly, and then introduced with a few pleasant words a -gentleman who had accompanied him as,—“Roy Ainsworth, the famous -artist, you know!” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, not at all!” drawled the individual thus described, with a -searching glance at the two brothers from under his drowsy -eyelids.—“Not famous by any means—not yet. Only trying to be. You’ve -got to paint something startling and shocking nowadays before you are -considered ‘famous’;—and even then, when you’ve outraged all the -proprieties, you must give a banquet, or take a big house and hold -receptions, or have an electrically-lit-up skeleton in your studio, or -something of that sort, to keep the public attention fixed upon you. -It’s such a restless age.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled gravely. -</p> - -<p> -“The feverish outburst of an unnatural vitality immediately preceding -dissolution,” he observed. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!—you think that? Well—it may be,—I’m sure I hope it is. I, -personally, should be charmed to believe in the rapidly-approaching -end of the world. We really need a change of planet as much as certain -invalids require a change of air. Your brother, however”—and here he -flashed a keen glance at Féraz—“seems already to belong to quite a -different sphere.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked up with a pleased yet startled expression. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,—but how did you know it?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -It was now the artist’s turn to be embarrassed. He had used the words -“different sphere” merely as a figure of speech, whereas this -intelligent-looking young fellow evidently took the phrase in a -literal sense. It was very odd!—and he hesitated what to answer, so -El-Râmi came to the rescue. -</p> - -<p> -“Mr. Ainsworth only means that you do not look quite like other -people, Féraz, that’s all. Poets and musicians often carry their own -distinctive mark.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is he a poet?” inquired Lord Melthorpe with interest.—“And has he -published anything?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi laughed good-humouredly. -</p> - -<p> -“Not he! My dear Lord Melthorpe, we are not all called upon to give -the world our blood and brain and nerve and spirit. Some few reserve -their strength for higher latitudes. To give greedy humanity -everything of one’s self is rather too prodigal an expenditure.” -</p> - -<p> -“I agree with you,” said a chill yet sweet voice close to them.—“It -was Christ’s way of work,—and quite too unwise an example for any of -us to follow.” -</p> - -<p> -Lord Melthorpe and Mr. Ainsworth turned quickly to make way for the -speaker,—a slight fair woman, with a delicate thoughtful face full of -light, languor, and scorn, who, clad in snowy draperies adorned here -and there with the cold sparkle of diamonds, drew near them at the -moment. El-Râmi and his brother both noted her with interest,—she -was so different from the other women present. -</p> - -<p> -“I am delighted to see you!” said Lord Melthorpe as he held out his -hand in greeting.—“It is so seldom we have the honour! Mr. Ainsworth -you already know,—let me introduce my Oriental friends -here,—El-Râmi Zarânos and his brother Féraz Zarânos,—Madame -Irene Vassilius—you must have heard of her very often.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi had indeed heard of her,—she was an authoress of high -repute, noted for her brilliant satirical pen, her contempt of press -criticism, and her influence over, and utter indifference to, all men. -Therefore he regarded her now with a certain pardonable curiosity as -he made her his profoundest salutation, while she returned his look -with equal interest. -</p> - -<p> -“It is you who said that we must not give ourselves wholly away to the -needs of humanity, is it not?” she said, letting her calm eyes dwell -upon him with a dreamy yet searching scrutiny. -</p> - -<p> -“I certainly did say so, Madame,” replied El-Râmi.—“It is a waste of -life,—and humanity is always ungrateful.” -</p> - -<p> -“You have proved it? But perhaps you have not tried to deserve its -gratitude.” -</p> - -<p> -This was rather a home-thrust, and El-Râmi was surprised and vaguely -annoyed at its truth. Irene Vassilius still stood quietly observing -him,—then she turned to Roy Ainsworth. -</p> - -<p> -“There is the type you want for your picture,” she said, indicating -Féraz by a slight gesture.—“That boy, depicted in the clutches of -your Phryne, would make angels weep.” -</p> - -<p> -“If I could make <i>you</i> weep I should have achieved something like -success,” replied the painter, his sleepy eyes dilating with a passion -he could not wholly conceal.—“But icebergs neither smile nor shed -tears,—and intellectual women are impervious to emotion.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is a mistaken idea,—one of the narrow notions common to men,” -she answered, waving her fan idly to and fro.—“You remind me of the -querulous Edward Fitzgerald, who wrote that he was glad Mrs. Barrett -Browning was dead, because there would be no more <i>Aurora Leighs</i>. He -condescended to say she was a ‘woman of Genius,’ but what was the use -of it? ‘She and her Sex,’ he said, ‘would be better minding the -Kitchen and their Children.’ He and <i>his</i> Sex always consider the -terrible possibilities to themselves of a badly-cooked dinner and a -baby’s screams. His notion about the limitation of woman’s sphere is -man’s notion generally.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is not mine,” said Lord Melthorpe.—“I think women are cleverer -than men.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, you are not a reviewer!” laughed Madame Vassilius—“so you can -afford to be generous. But as a rule men detest clever women, simply -because they are jealous of them.” -</p> - -<p> -“They have cause to be jealous of <i>you</i>,” said Roy Ainsworth.—“You -succeed in everything you touch.” -</p> - -<p> -“Success is easy,” she replied indifferently,—“Resolve upon it, and -carry out that resolve—and the thing is done.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at her with new interest. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame, you have a strong will!” he observed.—“But permit me to say -that all your sex are not like yourself, beautiful, gifted, and -resolute at one and the same time. The majority of women are -deplorably unintelligent and uninteresting.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is precisely how I find the majority of men!” declared Irene -Vassilius, with that little soft laugh of hers which was so sweet, yet -so full of irony.—“You see, we view things from different -standpoints. Moreover, the deplorably unintelligent and uninteresting -women are the very ones you men elect to marry, and make the mothers -of the nation. It is the way of masculine wisdom,—so full of careful -forethought and admirable calculation!” She laughed again, and -continued—“Lord Melthorpe tells me you are a seer,—an Eastern -prophet arisen in these dull modern days—now will you solve me a -riddle that I am unable to guess,—myself?—and tell me if you can, -who am I and what am I?” -</p> - -<p> -“Madame,” replied El-Râmi bowing profoundly, “I cannot in one moment -unravel so complex an enigma.” -</p> - -<p> -She smiled, not ill pleased, and met his dark, fiery, penetrating -glance unreservedly,—then, drawing off her long loose glove, she held -out her small beautifully-shaped white hand. -</p> - -<p> -“Try me,” she said lightly, “for if there is any truth in -‘brain-waves’ or reflexes of the mind the touch of my fingers ought to -send electric meanings through you. I am generally judged as of a -frivolous disposition because I am small in stature, slight in build, -and have curly hair—all proofs positive, according to the majority, -of latent foolishness. Colossal women, however, are always -astonishingly stupid, and fat women lethargic—but a mountain of good -flesh is always more attractive to man than any amount of intellectual -perception. Oh, I am not posing as one of the ‘misunderstood’; not at -all—I simply wish you to look well at me first and take in my -‘frivolous’ appearance thoroughly, before being misled by the messages -of my hand.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi obeyed her in so far that he fixed his eyes upon her more -searchingly than before,—a little knot of fashionable loungers had -stopped to listen, and now watched her face with equal curiosity. No -rush of embarrassed colour tinged the cool fairness of her cheeks—her -expression was one of quiet, half-smiling indifference—her attitude -full of perfect self-possession. -</p> - -<p> -“No one who looks at your eyes can call you frivolous Madame,” said -El-Râmi at last.—“And no one who observes the lines of your mouth -and chin could suspect you of latent foolishness. Your physiognomy -must have been judged by the merest surface-observers. As for stature, -we are aware that goes for naught,—most of the heroes and heroines of -history have been small and slight in build. I will now, if you permit -me, take your hand.” -</p> - -<p> -She laid it at once in his extended palm,—and he slowly closed his -own fingers tightly over it. In a couple of minutes, his face -expressed nothing but astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -“Is it possible?” he muttered—“can I believe——” he broke off -hurriedly, interrupted by a chorus of voices exclaiming—“Oh, what is -it?—<i>do</i> tell us!” and so forth. -</p> - -<p> -“May I speak, Madame?” he inquired, bending towards Irene, with -something of reverence. -</p> - -<p> -She smiled assent. -</p> - -<p> -“If I am surprised,” he then said slowly, “it is scarcely to be -wondered at, for it is the first time I have ever chanced across the -path of a woman whose life was so perfectly ideal. Madame, to you I -must address the words of Hamlet—‘pure as ice, chaste as snow, thou -shalt not escape calumny.’ Such an existence as yours, stainless, -lofty, active, hopeful, patient, and independent, is a reproach to -men, and few will love you for being so superior. Those who do love -you, will probably love in vain,—for the completion of your existence -is not here—but elsewhere.” -</p> - -<p> -Her soft eyes dilated wonderingly,—the people immediately around her -stared vaguely at El-Râmi’s dark impenetrable face. -</p> - -<p> -“Then shall I be alone all my life as I am now?” she asked, as he -released her hand. -</p> - -<p> -“Are you sure you are alone?” he said with a grave smile.—“Are there -not more companions in the poet’s so-called solitude than in the -crowded haunts of men?” -</p> - -<p> -She met his earnest glance, and her own face grew radiant with a -certain sweet animation that made it very lovely. -</p> - -<p> -“You are right,” she replied simply—“I see you understand.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, with a graceful salutation, she prepared to move away—Roy -Ainsworth pressed up close to her. -</p> - -<p> -“Are you satisfied with your fortune, Madame Vassilius?” he asked -rather querulously. -</p> - -<p> -“Indeed I am,” she answered. “Why should I not be?” -</p> - -<p> -“If loneliness is a part of it,” he said audaciously, “I suppose you -will never marry?” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose not,” she said with a ripple of laughter in her voice.—“I -fear I should never be able to acknowledge a man my superior!” -</p> - -<p> -She left him then, and he stood for a moment looking after her with a -vexed air,—then he turned anew towards El-Râmi, who was just -exchanging greetings with Sir Frederick Vaughan. This latter young man -appeared highly embarrassed and nervous, and seemed anxious to -unburden himself of something which apparently was difficult to utter. -He stared at Féraz, pulled the ends of his long moustache, and made -scrappy remarks on nothing in particular, while El-Râmi observed him -with amused intentness. -</p> - -<p> -“I say, do you remember the night we saw the new Hamlet?” he blurted -out at last.—“You know—I haven’t seen you since——” -</p> - -<p> -“I remember most perfectly,” said El-Râmi composedly—“‘To be or not -to be’ was the question then with you, as well as with Hamlet—but I -suppose it is all happily decided now as ‘to be.’” -</p> - -<p> -“What is decided?” stammered Sir Frederick—“I mean, how do you know -everything is decided, eh?” -</p> - -<p> -“When is your marriage to take place?” asked El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -Vaughan almost jumped. -</p> - -<p> -“By Jove!—you are an uncanny fellow!” he exclaimed.—“However, as it -happens, you are right. I’m engaged to Miss Chester.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is no surprise to me, but pray allow me to congratulate you!” and -El-Râmi smiled.—“You have lost no time about it, I must say! It is -only a fortnight since you first saw the lady at the theatre. -Well!—confess me a true prophet!” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Frederick looked uncomfortable, and was about to enter into an -argument concerning the <i>pros</i> and <i>cons</i> of prophetic insight, when -Lady Melthorpe suddenly emerged from the circling whirlpool of her -fashionable guests and sailed towards them with a swan-like grace and -languor. -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot find the dear Baroness,” she said plaintively. “She is so -much in demand! Do you know, my dear El-Râmi, she is really almost as -wonderful as you are! Not quite—oh, not quite, but nearly! She can -tell you all your past and future by the lines of your hand, in the -most astonishing manner! Can you do that also?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“It is a gipsy’s trick,” he said,—“and the <i>bonâ-fide</i> gipsies who -practise it in country lanes for the satisfaction of servant girls get -arrested by the police for ‘fortune-telling.’ The gipsies of the -London drawing-rooms escape scot-free.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, you are severe!” said Lady Melthorpe, shaking her finger at him -with an attempt at archness—“You are really very severe! You must not -be hard on our little amusements,—you know, in this age, we are all -so very much interested in the supernatural!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi grew paler, and a slight shudder shook his frame. The -supernatural! How lightly people talked of that awful Something, that -like a formless Shadow waits behind the portals of the grave!—that -Something that evinced itself, suggested itself, nay, almost declared -itself, in spite of his own doubts, in the momentary contact of a hand -with his own, as in the case of Irene Vassilius. For in that contact -he had received a faint, yet decided thrill through his nerves—a -peculiar sensation which he recognised as a warning of something -spiritually above himself,—and this had compelled him to speak of an -“elsewhere” for her, though for himself he persisted in nourishing the -doubt that an “elsewhere” existed. Roy Ainsworth, the artist, -observing him closely, noted how stern and almost melancholy was the -expression of his handsome dark face,—then glancing from him to his -brother, was surprised at the marked difference between the two. The -frank, open, beautiful features of Féraz seemed to invite confidence, -and, acting on the suggestion made to him by Madame Vassilius, he -spoke abruptly. -</p> - -<p> -“I wish you would sit to me,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Sit to you? For a picture, do you mean?” and Féraz looked delighted -yet amazed. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. You have just the face I want. Are you in town?—can you spare -the time?” -</p> - -<p> -“I am always with my brother”—began Féraz hesitatingly. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi heard him, and smiled rather sadly. -</p> - -<p> -“Féraz is his own master,” he said gently, “and his time is quite at -his own disposal.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then come and let us talk it over,” said Ainsworth, taking Féraz by -the arm. “I’ll pilot you through this crowd, and we’ll make for some -quiet corner where we can sit down. Come along!” -</p> - -<p> -Out of old habit Féraz glanced at his brother for permission, but -El-Râmi’s head was turned away; he was talking to Lord Melthorpe. So -through the brilliant throng of fashionable men and women, many of -whom turned to stare at him as he passed, Féraz went, half eager, -half reluctant, his large fawn-like eyes flashing an innocent -wonderment on the scene around him,—a scene different from everything -to which he had been accustomed. He was uncomfortably conscious that -there was something false and even deadly beneath all this glitter and -show,—but his senses were dazzled for the moment, though the -poet-soul of him instinctively recoiled from the noise and glare and -restless movement of the crowd. It was his first entry into so-called -“society”;—and, though attracted and interested, he was also somewhat -startled and abashed—for he felt instinctively that he was thrown -upon his own resources,—that, for the present at any rate, his -brother’s will no longer influenced him, and with the sudden sense of -liberty came the sudden sense of fear. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch24"> -XXIV. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Towards</span> midnight the expected Royal Personage came and went; -fatigued but always amiable, he shed the sunshine of his stereotyped -smile on Lady Melthorpe’s “crush”—shook hands with his host and -hostess, nodded blandly to a few stray acquaintances, and went through -all the dreary duties of social boredom heroically, though he was -pining for his bed more wearily than any work-worn digger of the soil. -He made his way out more quickly than he came in, and with his -departure a great many of the more “snobbish” among the fashionable -set disappeared also, leaving the rooms freer and cooler for their -absence. People talked less loudly and assertively,—little groups -began to gather in corners and exchange friendly chit-chat,—men who -had been standing all the evening found space to sit down beside their -favoured fair ones, and indulge themselves in talking a little -pleasant nonsense,—even the hostess herself was at last permitted to -occupy an arm-chair and take a few moments’ rest. Some of the guests -had wandered into the music-saloon, a quaintly-decorated oak-panelled -apartment which opened out from the largest drawing-room. A string -band had played there till Royalty had come and gone, but now “sweet -harmony” no longer “wagged her silver tongue,” for the musicians were -at supper. The grand piano was open, and Madame Vassilius stood near -it, idly touching the ivory keys now and then with her small white, -sensitive-looking fingers. Close beside her, comfortably ensconced in -a round deep chair, sat a very stout old lady with a curiously large -hairy face and a beaming expression of eye, who appeared to have got -into her pink silk gown by some cruelly unnatural means, so tightly -was she laced, and so much did she seem in danger of bursting. She -perspired profusely and smiled perpetually, and frequently stroked the -end of her very pronounced moustache with quite a mannish air. This -was the individual for whom Lady Melthorpe had been searching,—the -Baroness von Denkwald, noted for her skill in palmistry. -</p> - -<p> -“Ach! it is warm!” she said in her strong German accent, giving an -observant and approving glance at Irene’s white-draped form.—“You are -ze one womans zat is goot to look at. A peach mit ice-cream,—dot is -yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -Irene smiled pensively, but made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -The Baroness looked at her again, and fanned herself rapidly. -</p> - -<p> -“It is sometings bad mit you?” she asked at last.—“You look -sorrowful? Zat Eastern mans—he say tings disagreeable? You should -pelieve <i>me</i>,—I have told you of your hand—ach! what a -fortune!—splendid!—fame,—money, title,—a grand marriage——” -</p> - -<p> -Irene lifted her little hand from the keyboard of the piano, and -looked curiously at the lines in her pretty palm. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear Baroness, there must be some mistake,” she said slowly.—“I was -a lonely child,—and some people say that as you begin, so will you -end. I shall never marry—I am a lonely woman, and it will always be -so.” -</p> - -<p> -“Always, always—not at all!” and the Baroness shook her large head -obstinately. “You will marry; and Gott in Himmel save you from a -husband such as mine! He is dead—oh yes—a goot ting;—he is petter -off—and so am I. Moch petter!” -</p> - -<p> -And she laughed, the rise and fall of her ample neck causing quite a -cracking sound in the silk of her bodice. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Vassilius smiled again,—and then again grew serious. She was -thinking of the “elsewhere” that El-Râmi had spoken of,—she had -noticed that all he said had seemed to be uttered involuntarily,—and -that he had hesitated strangely before using the word “elsewhere.” She -longed to ask him one or two more questions,—and scarcely had the -wish formed itself in her mind, than she saw him advancing from the -drawing-room, in company with Lord Melthorpe, Sir Frederick Vaughan, -and the pretty frivolous Idina Chester, who, regardless of all that -poets write concerning the unadorned simplicity of youth, had decked -herself, American fashion, with diamonds enough for a dowager. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s too lovely!” the young lady was saying as she entered.—“I -think, Mr. El-Râmi, you have made me out a most charming creature! -“Unemotional, harmless, and innocently worldly”—that was it, wasn’t -it? Well now, I think that’s splendid! I had an idea you were going to -find out something horrid about me;—I’m so glad I’m harmless! You’re -sure I’m harmless?” -</p> - -<p> -“Quite sure!” said El-Râmi with a slight smile. “And there you -possess a great superiority over most women.” -</p> - -<p> -And he stepped forward in obedience to Lady Melthorpe’s signal, to be -introduced to the “dear” Baroness, whose shrewd little eyes dwelt upon -him curiously. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you believe in palmistry?” she asked him, after the ordinary -greetings were exchanged. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m afraid not,” he answered politely—“though I am acquainted with -the rules of the art as practised in the East, and I know that many -odd coincidences do occur. But,—as an example—take <i>my</i> hand—I am -sure you can make nothing of it.” -</p> - -<p> -He held out his open palm for her inspection—she bent over it, and -uttered an exclamation of surprise. There were none of the usual -innumerable little criss-cross lines upon it—nothing, in fact, but -two deep dents from left to right, and one well-marked line running -from the wrist to the centre. -</p> - -<p> -“It is unnatural!” cried the Baroness in amazement.—“It is a -malformation! There is no hand like it!” -</p> - -<p> -“I believe not,” answered El-Râmi composedly.—“As I told you, you -can learn nothing from it—and yet my life has not been without its -adventures. This hand of mine is my excuse for not accepting palmistry -as an absolutely proved science.” -</p> - -<p> -“Must everything be ‘proved’ for you?” asked Irene Vassilius suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -“Assuredly, Madame!” -</p> - -<p> -“Then have you ‘proved’ the elsewhere of which you spoke to me?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi flushed a little,—then paled again. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame, the message of your inner spirit, as conveyed first through -the electric medium of your brain, and then through the magnetism of -your touch, told me of an ‘elsewhere.’ I may not personally or -positively know of any ‘elsewhere,’ than this present state of -being,—but your interior Self expects an ‘elsewhere,’—apparently -knows of it better than I do, and conveys that impression and -knowledge to me, apart from any consideration as to whether I may be -fitted to understand or receive it.” -</p> - -<p> -These words were heard with evident astonishment by the little group -of people who stood by, listening. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear me! How <i>ve—ry</i> curious!” murmured Lady Melthorpe.—“And we -have always looked upon dear Madame Vassilius as quite a -free-thinker,”—here she smiled apologetically, as Irene lifted her -serious eyes and looked at her steadily—“I mean, as regards the next -world and all those interesting subjects. In some of her books, for -instance, she is terribly severe on the clergy.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not more so than many of them deserve, I am sure,” said El-Râmi with -sudden heat and asperity.—“It was not Christ’s intention, I believe, -that the preachers of His Gospel should drink and hunt, and make love -to their neighbours’ wives <i>ad libitum</i>, which is what a great many of -them do. The lives of the clergy nowadays offer very few worthy -examples to the laity.” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Melthorpe coughed delicately and warningly. She did not like -plain speaking,—she had a “pet clergyman” of her own,—moreover, she -had been bred up in the provinces among “county” folk, some of whom -still believe that at one period of the world’s history “God” was -always wanting the blood of bulls and goats to smell “as a sweet -savour in His nostrils.” She herself preferred to believe in the -possibility of the Deity’s having “nostrils,” rather than take the -trouble to consider the effect of His majestic Thought as evinced in -the supremely perfect order of the planets and solar systems. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi, however, went on regardlessly. -</p> - -<p> -“Free-thinkers,” he said, “are for the most part truth-seekers. If -everybody gave way to the foolish credulity attained to by the -believers in the ‘Mahatmas’ for instance, what an idiotic condition -the world would be in! We want free-thinkers,—as many as we can -get,—to help us to distinguish between the false and the true. We -want to separate the Actual from the Seeming in our lives,—and there -is so much Seeming and so little Actual that the process is -difficult.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, dat is nonsense!” said the Baroness von Denkwald. “Mit a Fact, -zere is no mistake—you prove him. See!” and she took up a silver -penholder from the table near her.—“Here is a pen,—mit ink it is -used to write—zere is what you call ze Actual.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“Believe me, my dear Madame, it is only a pen so long as you elect to -view it in that light. Allow me!”—and he took it from her hand, -fixing his eyes upon her the while. “Will you place the tips of your -fingers—the fingers of the left hand—yes—so! on my wrist? Thank -you!”—this, as she obeyed with a rather vague smile on her big fat -face.—“Now you will let me have the satisfaction of offering you this -spray of lilies—the first of the season,” and he gravely extended the -silver penholder.—“Is not the odour delicious?” -</p> - -<p> -“Ach! it is heavenly!” and the Baroness smelt at the penholder with an -inimitable expression of delight. Everybody began to laugh—El-Râmi -silenced them by a look. -</p> - -<p> -“Madame you are under some delusion,” he said quietly.—“You have no -lilies in your hand, only a penholder.” -</p> - -<p> -She laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“You are very funny!” she said—“but I shall not be deceived. I shall -wear my lilies.” -</p> - -<p> -And she endeavoured to fasten the penholder in the front of her -bodice,—when suddenly El-Râmi drew his hand away from hers. A -startled expression passed over her face, but in a minute or two she -recovered her equanimity and twirled the penholder placidly between -her fingers. -</p> - -<p> -“Zere is what you call ze Actual,” she said, taking up the -conversation where it had previously been interrupted.—“A penholder -is always a penholder—you can make nothing more of it.” -</p> - -<p> -But here she was surrounded by the excited onlookers—a flood of -explanations poured upon her, as to how she had taken that same -penholder for a spray of lilies, and so forth, till the old lady grew -quite hot and angry. -</p> - -<p> -“I shall not pelieve you!” she said indignantly.—“It is impossible. -You haf a joke—but I do not see it. Irene”—and she looked -appealingly to Madame Vassilius, who had witnessed the whole -scene—“it is not true, is it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, dear Baroness, it is true,” said Irene soothingly.—“But it is a -nothing after all. Your eyes were deceived for the moment—and Mr. -El-Râmi has shown us very cleverly, by scientific exposition, how the -human sight can be deluded—he conveyed an impression of lilies to -your brain, and you saw lilies accordingly. I quite understand,—it is -only through the brain that we receive any sense of sight. The thing -is easy of comprehension, though it seems wonderful.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is devilry!” said the Baroness solemnly, getting up and shaking -out her voluminous pink train with a wrathful gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“No, Madame,” said El-Râmi earnestly, with a glance at her which -somehow had the effect of quieting her ruffled feelings. “It is merely -science. Science was looked upon as ‘devilry’ in ancient times,—but -we in our generation are more liberal-minded.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what shall it lead to, all zis science?” demanded the Baroness, -still with some irritation.—“I see not any use in it. If one deceive -ze eye so quickly, it is only to make peoples angry to find demselves -such fools!” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, my dear lady, if we could all know to what extent exactly we -could be fooled,—not only as regards our sight, but our other senses -and passions, we should be wiser and more capable of self-government -than we are. Every step that helps us to the attainment of such -knowledge is worth the taking.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you have taken so many of those steps,” said Irene Vassilius, -“that I suppose it would be difficult to deceive <i>you</i>?” -</p> - -<p> -“I am only human, Madame,” returned El-Râmi, with a faint touch of -bitterness in his tone, “and therefore I am capable of being led -astray by my own emotions as others are.” -</p> - -<p> -“Are we not getting too analytical?” asked Lord Melthorpe cheerily. -“Here is Miss Chester wanting to know where your brother Féraz is. -She only caught a glimpse of him in the distance,—and she would like -to make his closer acquaintance.” -</p> - -<p> -“He went with Mr. Ainsworth,” began El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—I saw them together in the conservatory,” said Lady Melthorpe. -“They were deep in conversation—but it is time they gave us a little -of their company—I’ll go and fetch them here.” -</p> - -<p> -She went, but almost immediately returned, followed by the two -individuals in question. Féraz looked a little flushed and -excited,—Roy Ainsworth calm and nonchalant as usual. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve asked your brother to come and sit to me to-morrow,” the latter -said, addressing himself at once to El-Râmi. “He is quite willing to -oblige me,—and I presume you have no objection?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not the least in the world!” responded El-Râmi with apparent -readiness, though the keen observer might have detected a slight ring -of satirical coldness in his tone. -</p> - -<p> -“He is a curious fellow,” continued Roy, looking at Féraz where he -stood, going through the formality of an introduction to Miss Chester, -whose bold bright eyes rested upon him in frank and undisguised -admiration. “He seems to know nothing of life.” -</p> - -<p> -“What do you call ‘life’?” demanded El-Râmi, with harsh abruptness. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, life as we men live it, of course,” answered Roy, complacently. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Life, as we men live it!’” echoed El-Râmi. “By Heaven, there is -nothing viler under the sun than life lived so! The very beasts have a -more decent and self-respecting mode of behaviour,—and the everyday -existence of an ordinary ‘man about town’ is low and contemptible as -compared with that of an honest-hearted dog!” -</p> - -<p> -Ainsworth lifted his languid eyes with a stare of amazement;—Irene -Vassilius smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“I agree with you!” she said softly. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, of course!” murmured Roy sarcastically—“Madame Vassilius agrees -with everything that points to, or suggests, the utter worthlessness -of Man!” -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes flashed. -</p> - -<p> -“Believe me,” she said, with some passion, “I would give worlds to be -able to honour and revere men,—and there are some whom I sincerely -respect and admire,—but I frankly admit that the majority of them -awaken nothing in me but the sentiment of contempt. I regret it, but I -cannot help it.” -</p> - -<p> -“You want men to be gods,” said Ainsworth, regarding her with an -indulgent smile; “and when they can’t succeed, poor wretches, you are -hard on them. You are a born goddess, and to you it comes quite -naturally to occupy a throne on Mount Olympus, and gaze with placid -indifference on all below,—but to others the process is difficult. -For example, I am a groveller. I grovel round the base of the mountain -and rather like it. A valley is warmer than a summit, always.” -</p> - -<p> -A faint sea-shell pink flush crept over Irene’s cheeks, but she made -no reply. She was watching Féraz, round whom a bevy of pretty women -were congregated, like nineteenth-century nymphs round a new Eastern -Apollo. He looked a little embarrassed, yet his very diffidence had an -indefinable grace and attraction about it which was quite novel and -charming to the jaded fashionable fair ones who for the moment made -him their chief object of attention. They were pressing him to give -them some music, and he hesitated, not out of any shyness to perform, -but simply from a sense of wonder as to how such a spiritual, -impersonal, and divine thing as Music could be made to assert itself -in the midst of so much evident frivolity. He looked appealingly at -his brother,—but El-Râmi regarded him not. He understood this mute -avoidance of his eyes,—he was thrown upon himself to do exactly as he -chose,—and his sense of pride stimulated him to action. Breaking from -the ring of his fair admirers, he advanced towards the piano. -</p> - -<p> -“I will play a simple prelude,” he said, “and, if you like it, you -shall hear more.” -</p> - -<p> -There was an immediate silence. Irene Vassilius moved a little apart -and sat on a low divan, her hands clasped idly in her lap;—near her -stood Lord Melthorpe, Roy Ainsworth, and El-Râmi;—Sir Frederick -Vaughan and his <i>fiancée</i>, Idina Chester, occupied what is known as a -“flirtation chair” together; several guests flocked in from the -drawing-rooms, so that the <i>salon</i> was comparatively well filled. -Féraz poised his delicate and supple hands on the keyboard,—and -then—why, what then? Nothing!—only music!—music divinely pure and -sweet as a lark’s song,—music that spoke of things as yet undeclared -in mortal language,—of the mystery of an angel’s tears—of the joy of -a rose in bloom,—of the midsummer dreams of a lily enfolded within -its green leaf-pavilion,—of the love-messages carried by silver beams -from bridegroom-stars to bride-satellites,—of a hundred delicate and -wordless marvels the music talked eloquently in rounded and mystic -tone. And gradually, but invincibly, upon all those who listened, -there fell the dreamy nameless spell of perfect harmony,—they did not -understand, they could not grasp the far-off heavenly meanings which -the sounds conveyed, but they knew and felt such music was not -earthly. The quest of gold, or thirst of fame, had nothing to do with -such composition—it was above and beyond all that. When the delicious -melody ceased, it seemed to leave an emptiness in the air,—an aching -regret in the minds of the audience; it had fallen like dew on arid -soil, and there were tears in many eyes, and passionate emotions -stirring many hearts, as Féraz pressed his finger-tips with a -velvet-like softness on the closing chord. Then came a burst of -excited applause which rather startled him from his dreams. He looked -round with a faint smile of wonderment, and this time chanced to meet -his brother’s gaze earnestly fixed upon him. Then an idea seemed to -occur to him, and, playing a few soft notes by way of introduction, he -said aloud, almost as though he were talking to himself— -</p> - -<p> -“There are in the world’s history a few old legends and stories, -which, whether they are related in prose or rhyme, seem to set -themselves involuntarily to music. I will tell you one now, if you -care to hear it,—the Story of the Priest Philemon.” -</p> - -<p> -There was a murmur of delight and expectation, followed by profound -silence as before. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz lifted his eyes,—bright stag-like eyes, now flashing with -warmth and inspiration,—and, pressing the piano pedals, he played a -few slow solemn chords like the opening bars of a church chant; then, -in a soft, rich, perfectly modulated voice, he began. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch25"> -XXV. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">Long</span>, long ago, in a far-away province of the Eastern world, there -was once a priest named Philemon. Early and late he toiled to acquire -wisdom—early and late he prayed and meditated on things divine and -unattainable. To the Great Unknown his aspirations turned; with all -the ardour of his soul he sought to penetrate behind the mystic veil -of the supreme centre of creation; and the joys and sorrows, hopes and -labours of mortal existence seemed to him but worthless and -contemptible trifles when compared with the eternal marvels of the -incomprehensible Hereafter, on which, in solitude, he loved to dream -and ponder.” -</p> - -<p> -Here Féraz paused,—and, touching the keys of the piano with a -caressing lightness, played a soft minor melody, which, like a silver -thread of sound, accompanied his next words. -</p> - -<p> -“And so, by gradual and almost imperceptible degrees, the wise priest -Philemon forgot the world;—forgot men, and women, and little -children,—forgot the blueness of the skies, the verdure of the -fields,—forgot the grace of daisies growing in the grass,—forgot the -music of sweet birds singing in the boughs,—forgot indeed everything, -except—himself!—and his prayers, and his wisdom, and his burning -desire to approach more closely every hour to that wondrous goal of -the Divine from whence all life doth come, and to which all life must, -in due time, return.” -</p> - -<p> -Here the musical accompaniment changed to a plaintive tenderness. -</p> - -<p> -“But, by and by, news of the wise priest Philemon began to spread in -the town near where he had his habitation,—and people spoke of his -fastings and his watchings with awe and wonder, with hope and -fear,—until at last there came a day when a great crowd of the sick -and sorrowful and oppressed surrounded his abode, and called upon him -to pray for them, and give them comfort. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Bestow upon <i>us</i> some of the Divine consolation!’ they cried, -kneeling in the dust and weeping as they spoke—‘for we are weary and -worn with labour,—we suffer with harsh wounds of the heart and -spirit,—many of us have lost all that makes life dear. Pity us, O -thou wise servant of the Supreme—and tell us out of thy stores of -heavenly wisdom whether we shall ever regain the loves that we have -lost!’ -</p> - -<p> -“Then the priest Philemon rose up in haste and wrath, and going out -before them said— -</p> - -<p> -“‘Depart from me, ye accursed crew of wicked worldlings! Why have ye -sought me out, and what have I to do with your petty miseries? Lo, ye -have brought the evils of which ye complain upon yourselves, and -justice demands that ye should suffer. Ask not from me one word of -pity—seek not from me any sympathy for sin. I have severed myself -from ye all, to escape pollution,—my life belongs to God, not to -Humanity!’ -</p> - -<p> -“And the people hearing him were wroth, and went their way homewards, -sore at heart, and all uncomforted. And Philemon the priest, fearing -lest they might seek him out again, departed from that place for ever, -and made for himself a hut in the deep thickness of the forest where -never a human foot was found to wander save his own. Here in the -silence and deep solitude he resolved to work and pray, keeping his -heart and spirit sanctified from every soiling touch of nature that -could separate his thoughts from the Divine.” -</p> - -<p> -Again the music changed, this time to a dulcet rippling passage of -notes like the flowing of a mountain stream,—and Féraz continued,— -</p> - -<p> -“One morning, as, lost in a rapture of holy meditation, he prayed his -daily prayer, a small bird perched upon his window-sill, and began to -sing. Not a loud song, but a sweet song—full of the utmost tenderness -and playful warbling,—a song born out of the leaves and grasses and -gentle winds of heaven,—as delicate a tune as ever small bird sang. -The priest Philemon listened, and his mind wandered. The bird’s -singing was sweet; oh, so sweet, that it recalled to him many things -he had imagined long ago forgotten,—almost he heard his mother’s -voice again,—and the blithe and gracious days of his early youth -suggested themselves to his memory like the lovely fragments of a poem -once familiar, but now scarce remembered. Presently the bird flew -away, and the priest Philemon awoke as from a dream,—his prayer had -been interrupted; his thoughts had been drawn down to earth from -heaven, all through the twittering of a foolish feathered thing not -worth a farthing! Angry with himself, he spent the day in -penitence,—and on the following morning betook himself to his -devotions with more than his usual ardour. Stretched on his prayer-mat -he lay entranced; when suddenly a low sweet trill of sound broke -gently through the silence,—the innocent twittering voice of the -little bird once more aroused him,—first to a sense of wonder, then -of wrath. Starting up impatiently he looked about him, and saw the -bird quite close, within his reach,—it had flown inside his hut, and -now hopped lightly over the floor towards him, its bright eyes full of -fearless confidence, its pretty wings still quivering with the fervour -of its song. Then the priest Philemon seized a heavy oaken staff, and -slew it where it stood with one remorseless blow, and flung the little -heap of ruffled feathers out into the woodland, saying fiercely— -</p> - -<p> -“‘Thou, at least, shalt never more disturb my prayers!’ -</p> - -<p> -“And, even as he thus spoke, a great light shone forth suddenly, more -dazzling than the brightness of the day, and lo! an Angel stood within -the hut, just where the dead bird’s blood had stained the floor. And -the priest Philemon fell upon his face and trembled greatly, for the -Vision was more glorious than the grandest of his dreams. And a Voice -called aloud, saying— -</p> - -<p> -“‘Philemon, why hast thou slain My messenger?’ -</p> - -<p> -“And Philemon looked up in fear and wonderment, answering— -</p> - -<p> -“‘Dread Lord, what messenger? I have slain nothing but a bird.’ -</p> - -<p> -“And the voice spake again, saying— -</p> - -<p> -“‘O thou remorseless priest!—Knowest thou not that every bird in the -forest is Mine,—every leaf on the trees is Mine,—every blade of -grass and every flower is Mine, and is a part of Me! The song of that -slain bird was sweeter than thy many prayers;—and when thou didst -listen to its voice thou wert nearer Heaven than thou hast ever been! -Thou hast rebelled against My law;—in rejecting Love, thou hast -rejected Me,—and when thou didst turn the poor and needy from thy -doors, refusing them all comfort, even so did I turn My Face from thee -and refuse thy petitions. Wherefore hear now thy punishment. For the -space of a thousand years thou shalt live within this forest;—no -human eye shall ever find thee,—no human foot shall ever track -thee—no human voice shall ever sound upon thy ears. No companions -shalt thou have but birds and beasts and flowers,—from these shalt -thou learn wisdom, and through thy love of these alone shalt thou make -thy peace with Heaven! Pray no more,—fast no more,—for such things -count but little in the eternal reckonings,—but <i>love</i>!—and learn to -make thyself beloved, even by the least and lowest, and by this shalt -thou penetrate at last the mystery of the Divine!’ -</p> - -<p> -“The voice ceased—the glory vanished, and when the priest Philemon -raised his eyes he was alone.” -</p> - -<p> -Here, altering by a few delicate modulations the dreamy character of -the music he had been improvising, Féraz reverted again to the -quaint, simple, and solemn chords with which he had opened the -recitation. -</p> - -<p> -“Humbled in spirit, stricken at heart, conscious of the justice of his -doom, yet working as one not without hope, Philemon began his -heaven-appointed task. And to this day travellers’ legends tell of a -vast impenetrable solitude, a forest of giant trees, where never a -human step has trod, but where, it is said, strange colonies of birds -and beasts do congregate,—where rare and marvellous plants and -flowers flourish in their fairest hues,—where golden bees and -dazzling butterflies gather by thousands,—where all the songsters of -the air make the woods musical,—where birds of passage, outward or -homeward bound, rest on their way, sure of a pleasant haven,—and -where all the beautiful, wild, and timid inhabitants of field, forest, -and mountain are at peace together, mutually content in an Eden of -their own. There is a guardian of the place,—so say the country -people,—a Spirit, thin and white, and silver-haired, who understands -the language of the birds, and knows the secrets of the flowers, and -in whom all the creatures of the woods confide—a mystic being whose -strange life has lasted nearly a thousand years. Generations have -passed—cities and empires have crumbled to decay,—and none remember -him who was once called Philemon,—the ‘wise’ priest, grown wise -indeed at last, with the only wisdom God ever sanctifies—the Wisdom -of Love.” -</p> - -<p> -With a soft impressive chord the music ceased,—the story was -ended,—and Féraz rose from the piano to be surrounded at once by a -crowd of admirers, all vying with each other in flattering expressions -of applause and delight; but, though he received these compliments -with unaffected and courteous grace enough, his eyes perpetually -wandered to his brother’s face,—that dark, absorbed beloved -face,—yes, beloved!—for, rebel as he might against El-Râmi’s -inflexible will and despotic power, Féraz knew he could never wrench -from out his heart the deep affection and reverence for him which were -the natural result of years of tender and sympathetic intercourse. If -his brother had commanded him, he had also loved him,—there could be -no doubt of that. Was he displeased or unhappy now, that he looked so -sad and absorbed in gloomy and perplexed thought? A strange pained -emotion stirred Féraz’s sensitive soul,—some intangible vague sense -of separation seemed to have arisen between himself and El-Râmi, and -he grew impatient with this brilliant assembly of well-dressed -chattering folk, whose presence prevented him from giving vent to the -full expression of his feelings. Lady Melthorpe talked to him in -dulcet languid tones, fanning herself the while, and telling him -sweetly what a “wonderful touch” he had,—what an “exquisite speaking -voice”—and so forth, all which elegantly turned phrases he heard as -in a dream. As soon as he could escape from her and those of her -friends who were immediately round him, he made his way to El-Râmi -and touched his arm. -</p> - -<p> -“Let me stay beside you!” he said in a low tone in which there was a -slight accent of entreaty. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi turned, and looked at him kindly. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear boy, you had better make new friends while you can, lest the old -be taken from you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Friends!” echoed Féraz—“Friends—<i>here</i>?” He gave a gesture more -eloquent than speech, of doubt and disdain,—then continued, “Might we -not go now? Is it not time to return home and sleep?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, are we not seeing life? Here we are among pretty women, -well-bred men—the rooms are elegant,—and the conversation is as -delightfully vague and nearly as noisy as the chattering of -monkeys—yet, with all these advantages, you talk of sleep!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz laughed a little. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I am tired,” he said. “It does not seem to me real, all -this—there is something shadowy and unsubstantial about it. I think -sleep is better.” -</p> - -<p> -At that moment Irene Vassilius came up to them. -</p> - -<p> -“I am just going,” she said, letting her soft serious eyes dwell on -Féraz with interest, “but I feel I must thank you for your story of -the ‘Priest Philemon.’ Is it your own idea?—or does such a legend -exist?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing is really new,” replied Féraz—“but, such as it is, it is my -own invention.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then you are a poet and musician at one and the same time,” said -Irene. “It seems a natural combination of gifts, yet the two do not -always go together. I hope”—she now addressed herself to El-Râmi—“I -hope very much you will come and see me, though I’m afraid I’m not a -very popular person. My friends are few, so I cannot promise you much -entertainment. Indeed, as a rule, people do not like me.” -</p> - -<p> -“<i>I</i> like you!” said Féraz, quickly and impulsively. -</p> - -<p> -She smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes? That is good of you. And I believe you, for you are too -unworldly to deal in flatteries. But I assure you that, generally -speaking, literary women are never social favourites.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not even when they are lovely like you?” questioned Féraz, with -simple frankness. -</p> - -<p> -She coloured at the evident sincerity of his admiration and the boyish -openness with which it was thus expressed. Then she laughed a little. -</p> - -<p> -“Loveliness is not acknowledged as at all existent in literary -females,” she replied lightly, yet with a touch of scorn,—“even if -they do possess any personal charm, it only serves as a peg for the -malicious to hang a slander on. And, of the two sexes, men are most -cruel to a woman who dares to think for herself.” -</p> - -<p> -“Are you sure of that, Madame?” asked El-Râmi gently. “May not this -be an error of your judgment?” -</p> - -<p> -“I would that it were!” she said with intense expression—“Heaven -knows how sincerely I should rejoice to be proved wrong! But I am not -wrong. Men always judge women as their inferiors, not only physically -(which they are) but mentally (which they are not), and always deny -them an independent soul and independent emotions,—the majority of -men, indeed, treat them pretty much as a sort of superior -cattle;—but, nevertheless, there is a something in what the French -call ‘L’Éternel Féminin.’ Women are distinctly the greatest -sufferers in all suffering creation,—and I have often thought that -for so much pain and so much misjudgment, endured often with such -heroic silence and uncomplaining fortitude, the compensation will be -sweeter and more glorious than we, half drowned in our own tears, can -as yet hope for, or imagine!” -</p> - -<p> -She paused—her eyes were dark with thought and full of a dreamy -sorrow,—then, smiling gently, she held out her hand. -</p> - -<p> -“I talk too much, you will say—women always do! Come and see me if -you feel disposed—not otherwise; I will send you my card through Lady -Melthorpe—meantime, good-night!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi took her hand, and, as he pressed it in his own, felt again -that curious thrill which had before communicated itself to his nerves -through the same contact. -</p> - -<p> -“Surely you must be a visionary, Madame!” he said, abruptly and with a -vague sense of surprise—“and you see things not at all of this -world!” -</p> - -<p> -Her faint roseate colour deepened, giving singular beauty to her face. -</p> - -<p> -“What a tell-tale hand mine is!” she replied, withdrawing it slowly -from his clasp. “Yes—you are right,—if I could not see things higher -than this world, I could not endure my existence for an hour. It is -because I feel the future so close about me that I have courage for, -and indifference to, the present.” -</p> - -<p> -With that, she left them, and both El-Râmi and Féraz followed her -graceful movements with interested eyes, as she glided through the -rooms in her snowy trailing robes, with the frosty flash of diamonds -in her hair, till she had altogether disappeared; then the languid -voice of Lady Melthorpe addressed them. -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t she an odd creature, that Irene Vassilius? So quaint and -peculiar in her ideas! People detest her, you know—she is so -dreadfully clever!” -</p> - -<p> -“There could not be a better reason for hatred!” said El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“You see, she says such unpleasant things,” went on Lady Melthorpe, -complacently fanning herself,—“she has such decided opinions, and -will not accommodate herself to people’s ways. I must confess I always -find her <i>de trop</i> myself.” -</p> - -<p> -“She was your guest to-night,” said Féraz suddenly, and with such a -sternness in his accent as caused her ladyship to look at him in blank -surprise. -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly! One must always ask a celebrity.” -</p> - -<p> -“If one must always ask, then one is bound always to respect,” said -Féraz coldly. “In our <i>code d’honneur</i>, we never speak ill of those -who have partaken of our hospitality.” -</p> - -<p> -So saying, he turned on his heel and walked away with so much -haughtiness of demeanour that Lady Melthorpe stood as though rooted to -the spot, staring speechlessly after him. Then rousing herself, she -looked at El-Râmi and shrugged her shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“Really,” she began,—“really, Mr. El-Râmi, your brother’s manner is -very strange——” -</p> - -<p> -“It is,” returned El-Râmi quickly—“I admit it. His behaviour is -altogether unpolished—and he is quite unaccustomed to society. I told -Lord Melthorpe so,—and I was against his being invited here. He says -exactly what he thinks, without fear or favour, and in this regard is -really a mere barbarian. Allow me to apologise for him!” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Melthorpe bowed stiffly,—she saw, or fancied she saw, a faint -ironical smile playing on El-Râmi’s lips beneath his dark moustache. -She was much annoyed,—the idea of a “boy,” like Féraz, presuming to -talk to her, a leader of London fashion, about a <i>code d’honneur</i>! The -thing was monstrous,—absurd! And as for Irene Vassilius, why should -not she be talked about?—she was a public person; a writer of books -which Mrs. Grundy in her church-going moods had voted as “dangerous.” -Truly Lady Melthorpe considered she had just cause to be ruffled, and -she began to regret having invited these “Eastern men,” as she termed -them, to her house at all. El-Râmi perceived her irritation, but he -made no further remark; and, as soon as he could conveniently do so, -he took his formal leave of her. Quickly threading his way through the -now rapidly thinning throng, he sought out Féraz, whom he found in -the hall talking to Roy Ainsworth and making final arrangements for -the sitting he was to give the artist next day. -</p> - -<p> -“I should like to make a study of your head too,” said Roy, with a -keen glance at El-Râmi as he approached—“but I suppose you have no -time.” -</p> - -<p> -“No time—and still less inclination!” responded El-Râmi laughingly; -“for I have sworn that no ‘counterfeit presentment’ of my bodily form -shall ever exist. It would always be a false picture—it would never -be me, because it would only represent the perishable, whilst I am the -imperishable.” -</p> - -<p> -“Singular man!” said Roy Ainsworth. “What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“What should I mean,” replied El-Râmi quickly, “save what all your -religions and churches mean, if in truth they have any meaning. Is -there not something else besides this fleshly covering? If you can -paint the imagined Soul of a man looking out of his eyes, you are a -great artist,—but if you could paint the Soul itself, stripped of its -mortal disguise, radiant, ethereal, brilliant as lightning, beautiful -as dawn, you would be greater still. And the soul is the Me,—these -features of mine, this Appearance, is mere covering,—we want a -Portrait, not a Costume.” -</p> - -<p> -“Your argument applies to your brother as well as yourself,” said -Ainsworth, wondering at the eloquent wildness of this strange -El-Râmi’s language, and fascinated by it in spite of himself. -</p> - -<p> -“Just so! Only the earth-garment of Féraz is charming and -becoming—mine is not. It is a case of ‘my hair is white but not with -years’—the ‘Prisoner of Chillon’ sort of thing. Good-night!” -</p> - -<p> -“Good-night!” and the artist shook hands warmly with both brothers, -saying to Féraz as he parted from him—“I may expect you then -to-morrow? You will not fail?” -</p> - -<p> -“You may rely upon me!” and Féraz nodded lightly in adieu, and -followed El-Râmi out of the house into the street, where they began -to walk homeward together at a rapid rate. As they went, by some -mutual involuntary instinct they lifted their eyes to the dense blue -heavens, where multitudes of stars were brilliantly visible. Féraz -drew a long deep breath. -</p> - -<p> -“There,” he said, “is the Infinite and Real,—what we have seen of -life to-night is finite and unreal.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi made no reply. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you not think so?” persisted Féraz earnestly. -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot say definitely what is Real and what is Unreal,” said -El-Râmi slowly—“both are so near akin. Féraz, are you aware you -offended Lady Melthorpe to-night?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why should she be offended? I only said just what I thought.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good heavens, my dear boy, if you always go about saying just what -you think, you will find the world too hot to hold you. To say the -least of it, you will never be fit for society.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t want to be fit for it,” said Féraz disdainfully, “if Lady -Melthorpe’s ‘at home’ is a picture of it. I want to forget it,—the -most of it, I mean. I shall remember Madame Vassilius because she is -sympathetic and interesting. But for the rest!—my dearest brother, I -am far happier with you.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi took his arm gently. -</p> - -<p> -“Yet you leave me to-morrow to gratify an artist’s whim!” he said. -“Have you thought of that?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, but that is nothing—only an hour or two’s sitting. He was so -very anxious that I could not refuse. Does it displease you?” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear Féraz, I am displeased at nothing. You complained of my -authority over you once—and I have determined you shall not complain -again. Consider yourself free.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do not want my liberty,” said Féraz almost petulantly. -</p> - -<p> -“Try it!” responded El-Râmi with a smile and half a sigh. “Liberty is -sweet,—but, like other things, it brings its own responsibilities.” -</p> - -<p> -They walked on till they had almost reached their own door. -</p> - -<p> -“Your story of the priest Philemon was very quaint and pretty,” said -El-Râmi then abruptly. “You meant it as a sort of allegory for me, -did you not?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked wistfully at him, but hesitated to reply. -</p> - -<p> -“It does not quite fit me,” went on El-Râmi gently. “I am not -impervious to love—for I love <i>you</i>. Perhaps the angels will take -that fact into consideration when they are settling my thousand or -million years’ punishment.” -</p> - -<p> -There was a touch of quiet pathos in his voice which moved Féraz -greatly, and he could not trust himself to speak. When they entered -their own abode, El-Râmi said the usual “Good-night” in his usual -kindly manner,—but Féraz reverently stooped and kissed the hand -extended to him,—the potent hand that had enriched his life with -poesy and dowered it with dreams. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch26"> -XXVI. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">All</span> the next day El-Râmi was alone. Féraz went out early to fulfil -the appointment made with Roy Ainsworth; no visitors called,—and not -even old Zaroba came near the study, where, shut up with his books and -papers, her master worked assiduously hour after hour, writing as -rapidly as hand and pen would allow, and satisfying his appetite -solely with a few biscuits dipped in wine. Just as the shadows of -evening were beginning to fall, his long solitude was disturbed by the -sharp knock of a telegraph-messenger, who handed him a missive which -ran briefly thus— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“Your brother stays to dine with me.—<span class="sc">Ainsworth</span>.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -El-Râmi crushed the paper in his hand, then, flinging it aside, stood -for a moment, lost in meditation, with a sorrowful expression in his -dark eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Ay me! the emptiness of the world!” he murmured at last—“I shall be -left alone, I suppose, as my betters are left, according to the rule -of this curiously designed and singularly unsatisfactory system of -human life. What do the young care for the solitude of their elders -who have tended and loved them? New thoughts, new scenes, new -aspirations beckon them, and off they go like birds on the -wing,—never to return to the old nest or the old ways. I despise the -majority of women myself,—and yet I pity from my soul all those who -are mothers,—the miserable dignity and pathos of maternity are, in my -opinion, grotesquely painful. To think of the anguish the poor -delicate wretches endure in bringing children at all into the -world,—then, the tenderness and watchful devotion expended on their -early years,—and then—why then, these same children grow up for the -most part into indifferent (when not entirely callous) men and women, -who make their own lives as it seems best to themselves, and almost -forget to whom they owe their very existence. It is hard—bitterly -hard. There ought to be some reason for such a wild waste of love and -affliction. At present, however, I can see none.” -</p> - -<p> -He sighed deeply, and stared moodily into the deepening shadows. -</p> - -<p> -“Loneliness is horrible!” he said aloud, as though addressing some -invisible auditor. “It is the chief terror of death,—for one must -always die alone. No matter how many friends and relatives stand -weeping round the bed, one is absolutely <i>alone</i> at the hour of death, -for the stunned soul wanders blindly -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i9">“<i>out of sight,</i></p> -<p class="i0"><i>Far off in a place where it is not heard.</i>”</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -That solitary pause and shudder on the brink of the Unseen is -fearful,—it unnerves us all to think of it. If Love could help -us,—but even Love grows faint and feeble then.” -</p> - -<p> -As he mused thus, a strange vague longing came over him,—an impulse -arising out of he knew not what suggestion; and, acting on his -thought, he went suddenly and swiftly upstairs, and straight into the -chamber of Lilith. Zaroba was there, and rose from her accustomed -corner silently, and moved with a somewhat feeble step into the -ante-room while El-Râmi bent over the sleeping girl. Lovelier than -ever she seemed that evening,—and, as he stooped above her, she -stretched out her fair white arms and smiled. His heart beat -quickly,—he had, for the moment, ceased to analyse his own -feelings,—and he permitted himself to gaze upon her beauty and absorb -it, without, as usual, taking any thought of the scientific aspect of -her condition. -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“Tresses twisted by fairy fingers,</p> -<p class="i0">In which the light of the morning lingers!”</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -he murmured, as he touched a rippling strand of the lovely hair that -lay spread like a fleece of gold floss silk on the pillow near -him,—“Poor Lilith!—Sweet Lilith!” -</p> - -<p> -As if responsive to his words, she turned slightly towards him, and -felt the air blindly with one wandering white hand. Gently he caught -it and imprisoned it within his own,—then, on a strange impulse, -kissed it. To his utter amazement she answered that touch as though it -had been a call. -</p> - -<p> -“I am here, ... my Belovëd!” -</p> - -<p> -He started, and an icy thrill ran through his veins;—that word -“Belovëd” was a sort of electric shock to his system, and sent a -dizzying rush of blood to his brain. What did she mean,—what could -she mean? The last time she had addressed him she had declared that he -was not even her friend—now she called him her “beloved”—as much to -his amazement as his fear. Presently, however, he considered that here -perhaps was some new development of his experiment;—the soul of -Lilith might possibly be in closer communion with him than he had yet -imagined. But, in spite of his attempt to reason away his emotions, he -was nervous, and stood by the couch silently, afraid to speak, and -equally afraid to move. Lilith was silent too. A long pause ensued, in -which the usually subdued tickings of the clock seemed to become -painfully audible. El-Râmi’s breath came and went quickly,—he was -singularly excited,—some subtle warmth from the little hand he held -permeated his veins, and a sense of such utter powerlessness possessed -him as he had never experienced before. What ailed him? He could not -tell. Where was the iron force of his despotic will? He seemed unable -to exert it,—unable even to <i>think</i> coherently while Lilith’s hand -thus rested in his. Had she grown stronger than himself? A tingling -tremor ran through him, as the strange words of the monk’s written -warning suddenly recurred to his memory. -</p> - -<p> -“Beware the end! With Lilith’s love comes Lilith’s freedom.” -</p> - -<p> -But Lilith smiled with placid sweetness, and still left her hand -confidingly in his; he held that hand, so warm and soft and white, and -was loath to let it go,—he studied the rapt expression of the -beautiful face, the lovely curve of the sweet shut lips, the -delicately-veined lids of the closed eyes,—and was dimly conscious of -a sense of vague happiness curiously intermingled with terror. By and -by he began to collect his ideas which had been so suddenly scattered -by the one word “Belovëd,”—and he resolved to break the mystic -silence that oppressed and daunted him. -</p> - -<p> -“Dreaming or waking, is she?” he queried aloud, a little tremulously, -and as though he were talking to himself. “She must be dreaming!” -</p> - -<p> -“Dreaming of joy!” said Lilith softly, and with quick -responsiveness—“only that Joy is no dream! I hear your voice,—I am -conscious of your touch,—almost I see you! The cloud hangs there -between us still—but God is good,—He will remove that cloud.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi listened, perplexed and wondering. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith,” he said in a voice that strove in vain to assume its wonted -firmness and authority—“What say you of clouds,—you who are in the -full radiance of a light that is quenchless? Have you not told me of a -glory that out-dazzles the sun, in which you move and have your -being,—then what do you know of Shadow?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yours is the Shadow,” replied Lilith—“not mine! I would that I could -lift it from your eyes, that you might see the wonder and the beauty. -Oh, cruel Shadow, that lies between my love and me!” -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! Lilith!” exclaimed El-Râmi in strange agitation, “Why will -you talk of love!” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you not think of love?” said Lilith—“and must I not respond to -your innermost thought?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not always do you so respond, Lilith!” said El-Râmi quickly, -recovering himself a little, and glad of an opportunity to bring back -his mind to a more scientific level. “Often you speak of things I know -not,—things that perhaps I shall never know——” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, you <i>must</i> know,” said Lilith, with soft persistence. “Every -unit of life in every planet is bound to know its Cause and Final -Intention. All is clear to me, and will be so to you, hereafter. You -ask me of these things—I tell you,—but you do not believe me;—you -will never believe me till—the end.” -</p> - -<p> -“Beware the end!” The words echoed themselves so distinctly in -El-Râmi’s mind that he could almost have fancied they were spoken -aloud in the room. “What end?” he asked eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -But to this Lilith answered nothing. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at the small sensitive hand he held, and, stroking it -gently, was about to lay it back on her bosom, when all at once she -pressed her fingers closely over his palm, and sat upright, her -delicate face expressive of the most intense emotion, notwithstanding -her closed eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Write!” she said in a clear penetrating voice that sent silvery -echoes through the room—“write these truths to the world you live in. -Tell the people they all work for Evil, and therefore Evil shall be -upon them. What they sow, even that shall they reap,—with the measure -they have used, it shall be measured to them again. O wild world!—sad -world!—world wherein the pride of wealth, the joy of sin, the cruelty -of avarice, the curse of selfishness, outweigh all pity, all sympathy, -all love! For this God’s law of Compensation makes but one -return—Destruction. Wars shall prevail; plague and famine shall -ravage the nations;—young children shall murder the parents who bore -them; theft and rapine shall devastate the land. For your world is -striving to live without God,—and a world without God is a disease -that must die. Like a burnt-out star this Earth shall fall from its -sphere and vanish utterly—and its sister-planets shall know it no -more. For when it is born again, it will be new.” -</p> - -<p> -The words came from her lips with a sort of fervid eloquence which -seemed to exhaust her, for she grew paler and paler, and her head -began to sink backward on the pillow. El-Râmi gently put his arm -round her to support her, and, as he did so, a kind of supernatural -light irradiated her features. -</p> - -<p> -“Believe me, O my belovëd, believe the words of Lilith!” she -murmured. “There is but one law leading to all Wisdom. Evil generates -Evil, and contains within itself its own retribution. Good generates -Good, and holds within itself the germ of eternal reproduction. Love -begets Love, and from Love is born Immortality!” -</p> - -<p> -Her voice grew fainter,—she sank entirely back on her pillow; yet -once again her lips moved and the word “Immortality!” floated -whisperingly like a sigh. El-Râmi drew his arm away from her, and at -the same instant disengaged his hand from her clasp. She seemed -bewildered at this, and for a minute or two felt in the air as though -searching for some missing treasure,—then her arms fell passively on -each side of her, seemingly inert and lifeless. El-Râmi bent over her -half curiously, half anxiously,—his eyes dwelt on the ruby-like jewel -that heaved gently up and down on her softly rounded bosom,—he -watched the red play of light around it, and on the white satiny skin -beneath,—and then,—all at once his sight grew dazzled and his brain -began to swim. How lovely she was!—how much more than lovely! And how -utterly she was his!—his, body and soul, and in his power! He was -startled at the tenor of his own unbidden thoughts,—whence, in God’s -name, came these new impulses, these wild desires that fired his -blood? ... Furious with himself for what he deemed the weakness of his -own emotions, he strove to regain the mastery over his nerves,—to -settle his mind once more in its usual attitude of cold inflexibility -and indifferent composure,—but all in vain. Some subtle chord in his -mental composition had been touched mysteriously, he knew not how, and -had set all the other chords a-quivering,—and he felt himself all -suddenly to be as subdued and powerless as when his mysterious -visitor, the monk from Cyprus, had summoned up (to daunt him, as he -thought) the strange vision of an Angel in his room. -</p> - -<p> -Again he looked at Lilith;—again he resisted the temptation that -assailed him to clasp her in his arms, to shower a lover’s kisses on -her lips, and thus waken her to the full bitter-sweet consciousness of -earthly life,—till in the sharp extremity of his struggle, and -loathing himself for his own folly, he suddenly dropped on his knees -by the side of the couch and gazed with a vague wild entreaty at the -tranquil loveliness that lay there so royally enshrined. -</p> - -<p> -“Have mercy, Lilith!” he prayed half aloud, and scarcely conscious of -his words. “If you are stronger in your weakness than I in my -strength, have mercy! Repel me,—distrust me, disobey me—but do not -love me! Make me not as one of the foolish for whom a woman’s smile, a -woman’s touch, are more than life, and more than wisdom. O let me not -waste the labour of my days on a freak of passion!—let me not lose -everything I have gained by long study and research, for the mere wild -joy of an hour! Lilith, Lilith! Child, woman, angel!—whatever you -are, have pity upon me! I dare not love you! ... I dare not!” -</p> - -<p> -So murmuring incoherently, he rose, and, walking dizzily like a man -abruptly startled from deep sleep, he went straight out of the room, -never looking back once, else he might have seen how divinely, how -victoriously Lilith smiled! -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch27"> -XXVII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Reaching</span> his study, he shut himself in and locked the door,—and, -then sitting down, buried his head in his hands and fell to thinking. -Such odd thoughts too!—they came unbidden, and chased one another in -and out of his brain like will-o’-the-wisps in a wilderness. It was -growing late, and Féraz had not yet returned,—but he heeded not the -hour, or his brother’s continued absence,—he was occupied in such a -mental battle with his own inward forces as made him utterly -indifferent to external things. The question he chiefly asked himself -was this:—Of what use was all the science he had discovered and -mastered, if he was not exempt,—utterly exempt from the emotions -common to the most ignorant of men? His pride had been that he was -“above” human nature,—that he was able to look down upon its trivial -joys and sorrows with a supreme and satiric scorn,—that he knew its -ways so well as to be able to calculate its various hesitating moves -in all directions, social and political, with very nearly exact -accuracy. Why then was he shaken to the very centre of his being -to-night, by the haunting vision of an angelic face and the echo of a -sweet faint voice softly breathing the words—“My belovëd!” He could -dominate others; why could he not dominate himself? -</p> - -<p> -“This will never do!” he said aloud at last, starting up from his -brooding attitude—“I must read—I must work,—I must, at all costs, -get out of this absurd frame of mind into which I have unwittingly -fallen. Besides, how often have I not assured myself that for all -practical earthly considerations Lilith is dead—positively dead!” -</p> - -<p> -And to reinstate himself in this idea he unlocked his desk and took -from it a small parchment volume in which he had carefully chronicled -the whole account of his experiment on Lilith from the beginning. One -page was written in the form of a journal—the opposite leaf being -reserved for “queries,” and the book bore the curious superscription -“In Search of the Soul of Lilith” on its cover. The statement began at -once without preamble, thus: -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“<i>August</i> 8, 18—. 9 P.M.—Lilith, an Arab girl, aged twelve, dies in -my arms. Cause of death, fever and inanition. Heart ceased to beat at -ten minutes past eight this evening. While the blood is still warm in -the corpse I inject the ‘Electro-flamma’ under the veins, close -beneath the heart. No immediate effect visible. -</p> - -<p> -“11 P.M.—Arab women lay out Lilith’s corpse for burial. Questioned -the people as to her origin. An orphan child, of poor parentage, no -education, and unquiet disposition. Not instructed in religious -matters, but following the religious customs of others by instinct and -imitation. Distinctive features of the girl when in -health—restlessness, temper, animalism, and dislike of restraint. -Troublesome to manage, and not a thinking child by any means. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>August</i> 9. 5 A.M.—The caravan has just started on its way, leaving -the corpse of Lilith with me. The woman Zaroba remains behind. Féraz -I sent away last night in haste. I tell Zaroba part of my intention; -she is superstitious and afraid of me, but willing to serve me. Lilith -remains inanimate. I again use the ‘Electro-flamma,’ this time close -to all the chief arteries. No sign of life. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>August</i> 10. Noon.—I begin rather to despair. As a last resource I -have injected carefully a few drops of ‘Flamma’ close to the brain; it -is the mainspring of the whole machine, and if it can be set in -motion—— -</p> - -<p> -“Midnight.—Victory! The brain has commenced to pulsate feebly, and -the heart with it. Breathing has begun, but slowly and with -difficulty. A faint colour has come into the hitherto waxen face. -Success is possible now. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>August</i> 15.—During these last five days Lilith has breathed, and, -to a certain extent, lived. She does not open her eyes, nor move a -muscle of her body, and at times still appears dead. She is kept alive -(if it <i>is</i> life) by the vital fluid, and by that only. I must give -her more time. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>August</i> 20.—I have called her by name, and she has answered—but -how strangely! Where does she learn the things she speaks of? She sees -the Earth, she tells me, like a round ball circling redly in a cloud -of vapours, and she hears music everywhere, and perceives a ‘light -beyond.’ <i>Where and how does she perceive anything?</i>” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -Here on the opposite side of the page was written the “query,” which -in this case was headed -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p class="center">“<span class="sc">Problem</span>.”</p> - -<br/> - -<p> -“Given, a child’s brain, not wholly developed in its intellectual -capacity, with no impressions save those which are purely material, -and place that brain in a state of perpetual trance, <i>how does it come -to imagine or comprehend things which science cannot prove?</i> Is it the -Soul which conveys these impressions, and, if so, <i>what</i> is the Soul, -and <i>where</i> is it?” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -El-Râmi read the passage over and over again, then, sighing -impatiently, closed the book and put it by. -</p> - -<p> -“Since I wrote that, what has she not said—what has she not told me!” -he muttered; “and the ‘child’s brain’ is a child’s brain no longer, -but a woman’s, while she has obtained absolutely no knowledge of any -sort by external means. Yet she—she who was described by those who -knew her in her former life as ‘not a thinking child, troublesome and -difficult to manage,’ she it is who describes to me the scenery and -civilisation of Mars, the inhabitants of Sirius, the wonders of a -myriad of worlds; she it is who talks of the ravishing beauty of -things Divine and immortal, of the glory of the heavens, of the -destined fate of the world. God knows it is very strange!—and the -problem I wrote out six years ago is hardly nearer solving than it was -then. If I could <i>believe</i>—but then I cannot—I must always doubt, -and shall not doubt lead to discovery?” -</p> - -<p> -Thus arguing with himself, and scoffing interiorly at the suggestion -which just then came unbidden to his mind—“<i>Blessed are they which -have not seen and yet believed</i>”—he turned over some more papers and -sorted them, with the intention and hope of detaching his thoughts -entirely from what had suddenly become the too-enthralling subject of -Lilith’s beauteous personality. Presently he came upon a memorandum, -over which he nodded and smiled with a sort of grim satirical content, -entitled, “The Passions of the Human Animal as Nature made Him;” it -was only a scrap—a hint of some idea which he had intended to make -use of in literary work, but he read it over now with a good deal of -curious satisfaction. It ran thus: -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“Man, as a purely natural creature, fairly educated, but wholly -unspiritualised, is a mental composition of: Hunger, Curiosity, -Self-Esteem, Avarice, Cowardice, Lust, Cruelty, Personal Ambition; and -on these vile qualities alone our ‘society’ hangs together; the -virtues have no place anywhere, and do not count at all, save as -conveniently pious metaphors.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -“It is true!” he said aloud—“as true as the very light of the skies! -Now am I, or have I ever been, guilty of these common vices of -ordinary nature? No, no; I have examined my own conscience too often -and too carefully. I have been accused of personal ambition, but even -that is a false accusation, for I do not seek vulgar rewards, or the -noise of notoriety ringing about my name. All that I am seeking to -discover is meant for the benefit of the world; that Humanity,—poor, -wretched, vicious Humanity—may know positively and finally that there -<i>is</i> a Future. For till they <i>do</i> know it, beyond all manner of doubt, -why should they strive to be better? Why should they seek to quell -their animalism? Why should they need to be any better than they are? -And why, above all things, should they be exhorted by their preachers -and teachers to fasten their faith to a Myth, and anchor their hopes -on a Dream?” -</p> - -<p> -At that moment a loud and prolonged rat-tat-tatting at the street door -startled him,—he hastily thrust all his loose manuscripts into a -drawer, and went to answer the summons, glancing at the clock as he -passed it with an air of complete bewilderment,—for it was close upon -two A.M., and he could not imagine how the time had flown. He had -scarcely set foot across the hall before another furious knocking -began, and he stopped abruptly to listen to the imperative clatter -with a curious wondering expression on his dark handsome face. When -the noise ceased again, he began slowly to undo the door. -</p> - -<p> -“Patience, my dear boy,” he said as he flung it open—“is a virtue, as -you must have seen it set forth in copy-books. I provided you with a -latch-key—where is it?—there could not be a more timely hour for its -usage.” -</p> - -<p> -But while he spoke, Féraz, for it was he, had sprung in swiftly like -some wild animal pursued by hunters, and he now stood in the hall, -nearly breathless, staring confusedly at his brother with big, -feverishly-bright bewildered eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Then I have escaped!” he said in a half-whisper—“I am at -home,—really at home again!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him steadily,—then, turning away quietly, -carefully shut and bolted the door. -</p> - -<p> -“Have you spent a happy day, Féraz?” he gently inquired. -</p> - -<p> -“Happy!” echoed Féraz—“Happy? Yes. No! Good God!—what do you mean -by happiness?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him again, and, making no reply to this adjuration, -simply turned about and went into his study. Féraz followed. -</p> - -<p> -“I know what you think,” he said in pained accents—“You think I’ve -been drinking—so I have. But I’m not drunk, for all that. They gave -me wine—bad burgundy—detestable champagne—the sun never shone on -the grapes that made it,—and I took very little of it. It is not that -which has filled me with a terror too real to deserve your scorn,—it -is not that which has driven me home here to you for help and -shelter——” -</p> - -<p> -“It is somewhat late to be ‘driven’ home,” remarked El-Râmi with a -slightly sarcastic smile—“Two in the morning, and—bad champagne or -good,—you are talking, my dear Féraz, to say the least of it, rather -wildly.” -</p> - -<p> -“For God’s sake do not sneer at me!” cried Féraz passionately—“I -shall go mad if you do! Is it as late as you say?—I never knew it. I -fled from them at midnight;—I have wandered about alone under the -stars since then.” -</p> - -<p> -At these words, El-Râmi’s expression changed from satire to -compassion. His fine eyes softened, and their lustrous light grew -deeper and more tender. -</p> - -<p> -“Alone—and under the stars?” he repeated softly—“Are not the two -things incompatible—to <i>you</i>? Have you not made the stars your -companions—almost your friends?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no!” said Féraz, with a swift gesture of utter hopelessness. -“Not now—not now! for all is changed. I see life as it is—hideous, -foul, corruptible, cruel! and the once bright planets look pitiless; -the heavens I thought so gloriously designed are but an impenetrable -vault arched over an ever-filling grave. There is no light, no hope -anywhere; how can there be in the face of so much sin? El-Râmi, why -did you not tell me? why did you not warn me of the accursed evil of -this pulsating movement men call Life? For it seems <i>I</i> have not -lived, I have only dreamed!” -</p> - -<p> -And with a heavy sigh, that seemed wrung from his very heart, he threw -himself wearily into a chair, and buried his head between his hands in -an attitude of utter dejection. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him as he sat thus, with a certain shadow of -melancholy on his own fine features, then he spoke gently: -</p> - -<p> -“Who told you, Féraz, that you have not lived?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Zaroba did, first of all,” returned Féraz reluctantly; “and now he, -the artist Ainsworth, says the same thing. It seems that to men of the -world I look a fool. I know nothing; I am as ignorant as a -barbarian——” -</p> - -<p> -“Of what?” queried his brother. “Of wine, loose women, the race-course -and the gaming-table? Yes, I grant you, you are ignorant of these, and -you may thank God for your ignorance. And these wise ‘men of the -world’ who are so superior to you—in what does their wisdom consist?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz sat silent, wrapt in meditation. Presently he looked up; his -lashes were wet, and his lips trembled. -</p> - -<p> -“I wish,” he murmured, “I wish I had never gone there,—I wish I had -been content to stay with you.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi laughed a little, but it was to hide a very different -emotion. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear fellow,” he said lightly, “I am not an old woman that I -should wish you to be tied to my apron-strings. Come, make a clean -breast of it; if not the champagne, what is it that has so seriously -disagreed with you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Everything!” replied Féraz emphatically. “The whole day has been one -of discord—what wonder then that I myself am out of tune! When I -first started off from the house this morning, I was full of curious -anticipation—I looked upon this invitation to an artist’s studio as a -sort of break in what I chose to call the even monotony of my -existence,—I fancied I should imbibe new ideas, and be able to -understand something of the artistic world of London if I spent the -day with a man truly distinguished in his profession. When I arrived -at the studio, Mr. Ainsworth was already at work—he was painting—a -woman.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” said El-Râmi, seeing that Féraz paused, and stammered -hesitatingly. -</p> - -<p> -“She was nude,—this woman,” he went on in a low shamed voice, a hot -flush creeping over his delicate boyish face,—“A creature without any -modesty or self-respect. A model, Mr. Ainsworth called her,—and it -seems that she took his money for showing herself thus. Her body was -beautiful; like a statue flushed with life,—but she was a devil, -El-Râmi!—the foulness of her spirit was reflected in her bold -eyes—the coarseness of her mind found echo in her voice,—and I—I -sickened at the sight of her; I had never believed in the existence of -fiends,—but <i>she</i> was one!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi was silent, and Féraz resumed— -</p> - -<p> -“As I tell you, Ainsworth was painting her, and he asked me to sit -beside him and watch his work. His request surprised me,—I said to -him in a whisper, ‘Surely she will resent the presence of a stranger?’ -He stared at me. ‘She? Whom do you mean?’ he inquired. ‘The woman -there,’ I answered. He burst out laughing, called me ‘an innocent,’ -and said she was perfectly accustomed to ‘pose’ before twenty men at a -time, so that I need have no scruples on that score. So I sat down as -he bade me, and watched in silence, and thought——” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, what did you think?” asked El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“I thought evil things,” answered Féraz deliberately. “And, while -thinking them, I knew they were evil. And I put my own nature under a -sort of analysis, and came to the conclusion that, when a man does -wrong, he is perfectly aware that it <i>is</i> wrong, and that, therefore, -doing wrong deliberately and consciously, he has no right to seek -forgiveness, either through Christ or any other intermediary. He -should be willing to bear the brunt of it, and his prayers should be -for punishment, not for pardon.” -</p> - -<p> -“A severe doctrine,” observed El-Râmi. “Strangely so, for a young man -who has not ‘lived,’ but only ‘dreamed.’” -</p> - -<p> -“In my dreams I see nothing evil,” said Féraz, “and I think nothing -evil. All is harmonious; all works in sweet accordance with a Divine -and Infinite plan, of whose ultimate perfection I am sure. I would -rather dream so, than live as I have lived to-day.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi forbore to press him with any questions, and, after a little -pause, he went on: -</p> - -<p> -“When that woman—the model—went away from the studio, I was as -thankful as one might be for the removal of a plague. She dropped a -curtain over her bare limbs and disappeared like some vanishing evil -spirit. Then Ainsworth asked me to sit to him. I obeyed willingly. He -placed me in a half-sitting, half-recumbent attitude, and began to -sketch. Suddenly, after about half an hour, it occurred to me that he -perhaps wanted to put me in the same picture with that fiend who had -gone, and I asked him the question point-blank. ‘Why, certainly!’ he -said. ‘You will appear as the infatuated lover of that lady, in my -great Academy work.’ Then, El-Râmi, some suppressed rage in me broke -loose. I sprang up and confronted him angrily. ‘Never!’ I cried. ‘You -shall never picture me thus! If you dared to do it, I would rip your -canvas to shreds on the very walls of the Academy itself! I am no -“model,” to sell my personality to you for gold!’ He laughed in that -lazy, unmirthful way of his. ‘No,’ he said, ‘you are certainly not a -model, you are a tiger—a young tiger—quite furious and untamed. I -wish you <i>would</i> go and rip up my picture on the Academy walls, as you -say; it would make my fortune; I should have so many orders for -duplicates. My dear fellow, if you won’t let me put you into my -canvas, you are no use to me. I want your meditative face for the face -of a poet destroyed by a passion for Phryne. I really think you might -oblige me.’ ‘Never!’ I said; ‘the thing would be a libel and a lie. My -face is not the face you want. You want a weak face, a round foolish -brow, and a receding chin. Why, as God made me, and as I am, every one -of my features would falsify your picture’s story! The man who -voluntarily sacrifices his genius and his hopes of heaven to vulgar -vice and passion must have weakness in him somewhere, and as a true -artist you are bound to show that weakness in the features you -portray.’ ‘And have you no weakness, you young savage?’ he asked. ‘Not -that weakness!’ I said. ‘The wretched incapacity of will that brings -the whole soul down to a grovelling depth of materialism—that is not -in me!’ I spoke angrily, El-Râmi, perhaps violently; but I could not -help myself. He stared at me curiously, and began drawing lines on his -palette with his brush dipped in colour. ‘You are a very singular -young fellow,’ he said at last. ‘But I must tell you that it was the -fair Irene Vassilius who suggested to me that your face would be -suitable for that of the poet in my picture. I wanted to please -her——’ ‘You will please her more by telling her what I say,’ I -interrupted him abruptly. ‘Tell her——’ ‘That you are a new -Parsifal,’ he said mockingly. ‘Ah, she will never believe it! All men -in her opinion are either brutes or cowards.’ Then he took up a fresh -square of canvas, and added: ‘Well, I promise you I will not put you -in my picture, as you have such a rooted objection to figuring in -public as a slave of Phryne, though, I assure you, most young fellows -would be proud of such a distinction; for one is hardly considered a -“man” nowadays unless one professes to be “in love”—God save the -mark!—with some female beast of the stage or the music-hall. Such is -life, my boy! There! now sit still with that look of supreme scorn on -your countenance, and that will do excellently.’ ‘On your word of -honour, you will not place me in your picture?’ I said. ‘On my word of -honour,’ he replied. So, of course, I could not doubt him. And he drew -my features on his canvas quickly, and with much more than ordinary -skill; and, when he had finished his sketch, he took me out to lunch -with him at a noisy, crowded place, called the ‘Criterion.’ There were -numbers of men and women there, eating and drinking, all of a low -type, I thought, and some of them of a most vulgar and insolent -bearing, more like dressed-up monkeys than human beings, I told -Ainsworth; but he laughed, and said they were very fair specimens of -civilised society. Then, after lunch, we went to a club, where several -men were smoking and throwing cards about. They asked me to play, and -I told them I knew nothing of the game. Whereupon they explained it; -and I said it seemed to me to be quite an imbecile method of losing -money. Then they laughed uproariously. One said I was ‘very fresh,’ -whatever that might mean. Another asked Ainsworth what he had brought -me there for, and Ainsworth answered: ‘To show you one of the greatest -wonders of the century—a really <i>young</i> man in his youth,’ and then -they laughed again. Later on he took me into the Park. There I saw -Madame Vassilius in her carriage. She looked fair and cold, and proud -and weary all at once. Her horses came to a standstill under the -trees, and Ainsworth went up and spoke to her. She looked at me very -earnestly as she gave me her hand, and only said one thing: ‘What a -pity you are not with your brother!’ I longed to ask her why, but she -seemed unwilling to converse, and soon gave the signal to her coachman -to drive on—in fact, she went at once out of the Park. Then Ainsworth -got angry and sullen, and said: ‘I hate intellectual women! That -pretty scribbler has made so much money that she is perfectly -independent of man’s help—and, being independent, she is insolent.’ I -was surprised at his tone. I said I could not see where he perceived -the insolence. ‘Can you not?’ he asked. ‘She studies men instead of -loving them; that is where she is insolent—and—insufferable!’ He was -so irritated that I did not pursue the subject, and he then pressed me -to stay and dine with him. I accepted—and I am sorry I did.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” asked El-Râmi in purposely indifferent tones. “At present, so -far as you have told me, your day seems to have passed in a very -harmless manner. A peep at a model, a lunch at the Criterion, a glance -at a gaming-club, a stroll in the Park—what could be more ordinary? -There is no tragedy in it, such as you seem inclined to imagine; it is -all the merest bathos.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked up indignantly, his eyes sparkling. -</p> - -<p> -“Is there nothing tragic in the horrible, stifling, strangling -consciousness of evil surrounding one like a plague?” he demanded -passionately. “To know and to feel that God is far off, instead of -near; that one is shut up in a prison of one’s own making, where sweet -air and pure light cannot penetrate; to be perfectly conscious that -one is moving and speaking with difficulty and agitation in a thick, -choking atmosphere of lies—lies—all lies! Is that not tragic? Is -that all bathos?” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear fellow, it is life!” said El-Râmi sedately. “It is what you -wanted to see, to know, and to understand.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is <i>not</i> life!” declared Féraz hotly. “The people who accept it -as such are fools, and delude themselves. Life, as God gave it to us, -is beautiful and noble—grandly suggestive of the Future beyond; but -you will not tell me there is anything beautiful or noble or -suggestive in the life led by such men and women as I saw to-day. With -the exception of Madame Vassilius—and she, I am told, is considered -eccentric and a ‘visionary’—I have seen no one who would be worth -talking to for an hour. At Ainsworth’s dinner, for instance, there -were some men who called themselves artists, and they talked, not of -art, but of money; how much they could get, and how much they <i>would</i> -get from certain patrons of theirs whom they called ‘full-pursed -fools.’ Well, and that woman—that model I told you of—actually came -to dine at Ainsworth’s table, and other coarse women like her. Surely, -El-Râmi, you can imagine what their conversation was like? And as the -time went on things became worse. There was no restraint, and at last -I could stand it no longer. I rose up from the table, and left the -room without a word. Ainsworth followed me; he was flushed with wine, -and he looked foolish. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘Mamie -Dillon,’ that was the name of his model, ‘wants to talk to you.’ I -made him no answer. ‘Where are you going?’ he repeated angrily. ‘Home, -of course,’ I replied, ‘I have stayed here too long as it is. Let me -pass.’ He was excited; he had taken too much wine, I know, and he -scarcely knew what he was saying. ‘Oh, I understand you!’ he -exclaimed. ‘You and Irene Vassilius are of a piece—all purity, eh! -all disgust at the manners and customs of the “lower animals.” Well, I -tell you we are no worse than any one else in modern days. My lord the -duke’s conversation differs very little from that of his groom; and -the latest imported American heiress in search of a title rattles on -to the full as volubly and ruthlessly as Mamie Dillon. Go home, if go -you must; and take my advice, if you don’t like what you have seen in -the world to-day, <i>stay</i> home for good. Stay in your shell, and dream -your dreams; I dare say they will profit you quite as much as our -realities!’ He laughed, and as I left him I said, ‘You mistake! it is -you who are “dreaming,” as you call it; dreaming a bad dream, too; it -is I who <i>live</i>.’ Then I went out of the house, as I tell you, and -wandered alone, under the stars, and thought bitter things.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why ‘bitter’?” asked El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not know,” returned Féraz moodily, “except that all the world -seemed wrong. I wondered how God could endure so much degradation on -the face of one of His planets, without some grand, divine protest.” -</p> - -<p> -“The protest is always there,” said El-Râmi quickly. “Silent, but -eternal, in the existence of Good in the midst of Evil.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz lifted his eyes and rested their gaze on his brother with an -expression of unutterable affection. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi, keep me with you!” he entreated; “never let me leave you -again! I think I must be crazed if the world is what it <i>seems</i>, and -my life is so entirely opposed to it; but, if so, I would rather be -crazed than sane. In my wanderings to-night, on my way home hither, I -met young girls and women who must have been devils in disguise, so -utterly were they lost to every sense of womanhood and decency. I saw -men, evil-looking and wretched, who seemed waiting but the chance to -murder, or commit any other barbarous crime for gold. I saw little -children, starving and in rags; old and feeble creatures, too, in the -last stage of destitution, without a passer-by to wish them well; all -things seemed foul and dark and hopeless, and when I entered here I -felt—ah, God knows what I felt!—that you were my Providence, that -this was my home, and that surely some Angel dwelt within and hallowed -it with safety and pure blessing!” -</p> - -<p> -A sudden remorse softened his voice, his beautiful eyes were dim with -tears. -</p> - -<p> -“He remembers and thinks of Lilith!” thought El-Râmi quickly, with a -singular jealous tightening emotion at his heart; but aloud he said -gently: -</p> - -<p> -“If one day in the ‘world’ has taught you to love this simple abode of -ours, my dear Féraz, more than you did before, you have had a most -valuable lesson. But do not be too sure of yourself. Remember, you -resented my authority, and you wished to escape from my influence. -Well, now——” -</p> - -<p> -“Now I voluntarily place myself under both,” said Féraz rising and -standing before him with bent head. “El-Râmi, my brother and my -friend, do with me as you will! If from you come my dreams, in God’s -name let me dream! If from your potent will, exerted on my spirit, -springs the fountain of the music which haunts my life, let me ever be -a servant of that will! With you I have had happiness, health, peace, -and mysterious joy, such as the world could never comprehend; away -from you, though only for a day, I have been miserable. Take my -complete obedience, El-Râmi, for what it is worth; you give me more -than my life’s submission can ever repay.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi stepped up more closely to him, and, laying both hands on his -shoulders, looked him seriously in the eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear boy, consider for a moment how you involve yourself,” he said -earnestly, yet with great kindliness. “Remember the old Arabic volume -you chanced upon, and what it said concerning the mystic powers of -‘influence.’ Did you quite realise it, and all that it implies?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz met his searching gaze steadily. -</p> - -<p> -“Quite,” he replied. “So much and so plainly do I realise it that I -even attribute everything done in the world to ‘influence.’ Each one -of us is ‘influenced’ by something or some one. Even you, my dearest -brother, share the common lot, though I dare say you do not quite -perceive where your ruling force is generated, your own powers being -so extraordinary. Ainsworth, for example, is ‘influenced’ in very -opposite directions by very opposite forces—Irene Vassilius, and—his -Mamie Dillon! Now I would rather have <i>your</i> spell laid upon my life -than that of the speculator, the gambler, the drinker, or the vile -woman, for none of these can possibly give satisfaction, at least not -to me; while your wizard wand invokes nothing but beauty, harmony, and -peace of conscience. So I repeat it, El-Râmi, I submit to you utterly -and finally—must I entreat you to accept my submission?” -</p> - -<p> -He smiled, and the old happy look that he was wont to wear began to -radiate over his face, which had till then seemed worn and wearied. -El-Râmi’s dark features appeared to reflect the smile, as he gently -touched his brother’s clustering curls, and said playfully: -</p> - -<p> -“In spite of Zaroba?” -</p> - -<p> -“In spite of Zaroba,” echoed Féraz mirthfully. “Poor Zaroba! she does -not seem well, or happy. I fear she has offended you?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no,” said El-Râmi meditatively, “she has not offended me; she is -too old to offend me. I cannot be angry with sorrowful and helpless -age. And, if she is not well, we will make her well, and if she is not -happy we will make her happy, ... and be happy ourselves—shall it not -be so?” His voice was very soft, and he seemed to talk at random, and -to be conscious of it, for he roused himself with a slight start, and -said in firmer tones: “Good-night, Féraz; good-night, dear lad. Rest, -and dream!” -</p> - -<p> -He smiled as Féraz impulsively caught his hand and kissed it, and -after the young man had left the room he still stood, lost in a -reverie, murmuring under his breath: “And be happy ourselves! Is that -possible—could that be possible—in <i>this</i> world?” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch28"> -XXVIII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Next</span> day towards noon, while Féraz, tired with his brief “worldly” -experiences, was still sleeping. El-Râmi sought out Zaroba. She -received him in the ante-room of the chamber of Lilith with more than -her customary humility; her face was dark and weary, and her whole -aspect one of resigned and settled melancholy. El-Râmi looked at her -kindly, and with compassion. -</p> - -<p> -“The sustaining of wrath is an injury to the spirit,” he wrote on the -slate which served for that purpose in his usual way of communication -with her; “I no longer mistrust you. Once more I say, be faithful and -obedient. I ask no more. The spell of silence shall be lifted from -your lips to-day.” -</p> - -<p> -She read swiftly, and with apparent incredulity, and a tremor passed -over her tall, gaunt frame. She looked at him wonderingly and -wistfully, while he, standing before her, returned the look -steadfastly, and seemed to be concentrating all his thoughts upon her -with some fixed intention. After a minute or two he turned aside, and -again wrote on the slate; this time the words ran thus: -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“Speak; you are at liberty.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -With a deep shuddering sigh, she extended her hands appealingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Master!” she exclaimed; and, before he could prevent her, she had -dropped on her knees. “Forgive—forgive!” she muttered. “Terrible is -thy power, O El-Râmi, ruler of spirits! terrible, mystic, and -wonderful! God must have given thee thy force, and I am but the -meanest of slaves to rebel against thy command. Yet out of wisdom -comes not happiness, but great grief and pain; and as I live, -El-Râmi, in my rebellion I but dreamed of a love that should bring -thee joy! Pardon the excess of my zeal, for lo, again and yet again I -swear fidelity! and may all the curses of heaven fall on me if this -time I break my vow!” -</p> - -<p> -She bent her head—she would have kissed the floor at his feet, but -that he quickly raised her up and prevented her. -</p> - -<p> -“There is nothing more to pardon,” he wrote. “Your wisdom is possibly -greater than mine. I know there is nothing stronger than Love, nothing -better perhaps; but Love is my foe whom I must vanquish,—lest he -should vanquish me!” -</p> - -<p> -And while Zaroba yet pored over these words, her black eyes dilating -with amazement at the half confession of weakness implied in them, he -turned away and left the room. -</p> - -<p> -That afternoon a pleasant sense of peace and restfulness seemed to -settle upon the little household; delicious strains of melody filled -the air; Féraz, refreshed in mind and body by a sound sleep, was -seated at the piano, improvising strange melodies in his own -exquisitely wild and tender fashion; while El-Râmi, seated at his -writing-table, indited a long letter to Dr. Kremlin at Ilfracombe, -giving in full the message left for him by the mysterious monk from -Cyprus respecting the “Third Ray” or signal from Mars. -</p> - -<p> -“Do not weary yourself too much with watching this phenomenon,” he -wrote to his friend. “From all accounts, it will be a difficult matter -to track so rapid a flash on the Disc as the one indicated, and I have -fears for your safety. I cannot give any satisfactory cause for my -premonition of danger to you in the attempt, because, if we do not -admit an end to anything, then there can be no danger even in death -itself, which we are accustomed to look upon as an ‘end,’ when it may -be <i>proved</i> to be only a beginning. But, putting aside the idea of -‘danger’ or ‘death,’ the premonition remains in my mind as one of -‘change’ for you; and perhaps you are not ready or willing even to -accept a different sphere of action from your present one, therefore I -would say, take heed to yourself when you follow the track of the -‘Third Ray.’” -</p> - -<p> -Here his pen stopped abruptly; Féraz was singing in a soft -mezza-voce, and he listened: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">O Sweet, if love obtained must slay desire,</p> -<p class="i0">And quench the light and heat of passion’s fire;</p> -<p class="i0">If you are weary of the ways of love,</p> -<p class="i0">And fain would end the many cares thereof,</p> -<p class="i0">I prithee tell me so that I may seek</p> -<p class="i0">Some place to die in ere I grow too weak</p> -<p class="i0">To look my last on your belovèd face.</p> -<p class="i0">Yea, tell me all! The gods may yet have grace</p> -<p class="i0">And pity enough to let me quickly die</p> -<p class="i0">Some brief while after we have said ‘Good-bye!’</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">Nay, I have known it well for many days</p> -<p class="i0">You have grown tired of all tender ways;</p> -<p class="i0">Love’s kisses weary you, love’s eager words,</p> -<p class="i0">Old as the hills and sweet as singing-birds,</p> -<p class="i0">Are fetters hard to bear! O love, be free!</p> -<p class="i0">You will lose little joy in losing me;</p> -<p class="i0">Let me depart, remembering only this,</p> -<p class="i0">That once you loved me, and that once your kiss</p> -<p class="i0">Crown’d me with joy supreme enough to last</p> -<p class="i0">Through all my life till that brief life be past.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">Forget me, Sweetest-heart, and nevermore</p> -<p class="i0">Turn to look back on what has gone before,</p> -<p class="i0">Or say, ‘Such love was brief, but wondrous fair;</p> -<p class="i0">The past is past for ever; have no care</p> -<p class="i0">Or thought for me at all, no tear or sigh,</p> -<p class="i0">Or faint regret; for, Dearest, I shall die</p> -<p class="i0">And dream of you i’ the dark, beneath the grass;</p> -<p class="i0">And o’er my head perchance your feet may pass,</p> -<p class="i0">Lulling me faster into sleep profound</p> -<p class="i0">Among the fairies of the fruitful ground.</p> -<p class="i0">Love, wearied out by love, hath need of rest.</p> -<p class="i0">And, when all love is ended, Death is best.</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -The song ceased; but, though the singer’s voice no longer charmed the -silence, his fingers still wandered over the keys of the piano, -devising intricate passages of melody as delicate and devious as the -warbling of nightingales. El-Râmi, unconsciously to himself, heaved a -deep sigh, and Féraz, hearing it, looked round. -</p> - -<p> -“Am I disturbing you?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“No. I love to hear you; but, like many youthful poets, you sing of -what you scarcely understand—love, for instance; you know nothing of -love.” -</p> - -<p> -“I imagine I do,” replied Féraz meditatively. “I can picture my ideal -woman; she is——” -</p> - -<p> -“Fair, of course!” said El-Râmi, with an indulgent smile. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, fair; her hair must be golden, but not uniformly so—full of -lights and shadows, suggestive of some halo woven round her brows by -the sunlight, or the caressing touch of an angel. She must have deep, -sweet eyes in which no actual colour is predominant; for a pronounced -blue or black does away with warmth of expression. She must not be -tall, for one cannot caress tall women without a sense of the -ludicrous spoiling sentiment——” -</p> - -<p> -“Have you tried it?” asked El-Râmi, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz laughed too. -</p> - -<p> -“You know I have not; I only imagine the situation. To explain more -fully what I mean, I would say one could more readily draw into one’s -arms the Venus of Medicis than that of Milo—one could venture to -caress a Psyche, but scarcely a Juno. I have never liked the idea of -tall women; they are like big handsome birds—useful, no doubt, but -not half so sweet as the little fluttering singing ones.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, and what other attributes must this imagined lady of yours -possess?” asked El-Râmi, vaguely amused at his brother’s earnestness. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, many more charms than I could enumerate,” replied Féraz. “And of -one thing I am certain, she is not to be found on this earth. But I am -quite satisfied to wait; I shall find her, even as she will find me -some day. Meanwhile I ‘imagine’ love, and in imagination I almost feel -it.” -</p> - -<p> -He went on playing, and El-Râmi resumed the writing of his letter to -Kremlin, which he soon finished and addressed ready for post. A gentle -knock at the street door made itself heard just then through the ebb -and flow of Féraz’s music, and Féraz left off his improvisation -abruptly and went to answer the summons. He returned, and announced -with some little excitement: -</p> - -<p> -“Madame Irene Vassilius.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi rose and advanced to meet his fair visitor, bowing -courteously. -</p> - -<p> -“This is an unexpected pleasure, Madame,” he said, the sincerity of -his welcome showing itself in the expression of his face, “and an -unmerited honour for which I am grateful.” -</p> - -<p> -She smiled, allowing her hand to rest in his for a moment; then, -accepting the low chair which Féraz placed for her near his brother’s -writing-table, she seated herself, and lifted her eyes to El-Râmi’s -countenance—eyes which, like those of Féraz’s “ideal ladye-love,” -were “deep and sweet, and of no pronounced colour.” -</p> - -<p> -“I felt you would not resent my coming here as an intrusion,” she -began; “but my visit is not one of curiosity. I do not want to probe -you as to your knowledge of my past, or to ask you anything as to my -future. I am a lonely creature, disliked by many people, and in the -literary career I have adopted I fight a desperately hard battle, and -often crave for a little—just a little sympathetic comprehension. One -or two questions puzzle me which you might answer if you would. They -are on almost general subjects; but I should like to have your -opinion.” -</p> - -<p> -“Madame, if you, with your exceptional gifts of insight and instinct, -are baffled in these ‘general’ questions,” said El-Râmi, “shall not I -be baffled also?” -</p> - -<p> -“That does not follow,” replied Irene, returning his glance steadily, -“for you men always claim to be wiser than women. I do not agree with -this fiat, so absolutely set forth by the lords of creation; yet I am -not what is termed ‘strong-minded,’ I simply seek justice. Pray stay -with us,” she added, turning to Féraz, who was about to retire, as he -usually did whenever El-Râmi held an interview with any visitor; -“there is no occasion for you to go away.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz hesitated, glancing at his brother. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, by all means remain here, Féraz,” said El-Râmi gently, “since -Madame Vassilius desires it.” -</p> - -<p> -Delighted with the permission, Féraz ensconced himself in a corner -with a book, pretending to read, but in reality listening to every -word of the conversation. He liked to hear Irene’s voice—it was -singularly sweet and ringing, and at times had a peculiar thrill of -pathos in it that went straight to the heart. -</p> - -<p> -“You know,” she went on, “that I am, or am supposed to be, what the -world calls ‘famous.’ That is, I write books which the public clamour -for and read, and for which I receive large sums of money. I am able -to live well, dress well, and look well, and I am known as one of -society’s ‘celebrities.’ Well, now, can you tell me why, for such poor -honours as these, men, supposed to be our wiser and stronger -superiors, are so spitefully jealous of a woman’s fame?” -</p> - -<p> -“Jealous?” echoed El-Râmi dubiously, and with something of -hesitation. “You mean——” -</p> - -<p> -“I mean what I say,” continued Madame Vassilius calmly; “neither more -nor less. Spitefully jealous is the term I used. Explain to me this -riddle: Why do men encourage women to every sort of base folly and -vanity that may lead them at length to become the slaves of man’s lust -and cruelty, and yet take every possible means to oppose and hinder -them in their attempts to escape from sensuality and animalism into -intellectual progress and pre-eminence? In looking back on the history -of all famous women, from Sappho downwards to the present time, it is -amazing to consider what men have said of them. Always a sneer at -‘women’s work.’ And, if praise is at any time given, how grudging and -half-hearted it is! Men will enter no protest against women who -uncover their bare limbs to the public gaze and dance lewdly in -music-halls and theatres for the masculine delectation; they will -defend the street prostitute; they will pledge themselves and their -family estates in order to provide jewels for the newest ‘ballerina’; -but for the woman of intellect they have nothing but a shrug of -contempt. If she produces a great work of art in literature, it is -never thoroughly acknowledged; and the hard blows delivered on -Charlotte Bronté, George Eliot, Georges Sand, and others of their -calibre, far outweighed their laurels. George Eliot and Georges Sand -took men’s names in order to shelter themselves a little from the -pitiless storm that assails literary work known to emanate from a -woman’s brain; but let a man write the veriest trash that ever was -printed, he will still be accredited by his own sex with something -better than ever the cleverest woman could compass. How is it that the -‘superior’ sex are cowardly enough to throw stones at those among the -‘inferior,’ who surpass their so-called lords and masters both in -chastity and intellect?” -</p> - -<p> -She spoke earnestly, her eyes shining with emotion; she looked lovely, -thus inspired by the strength of her inward feelings. El-Râmi was -taken aback. Like most Orientals, he had to a certain extent despised -women and their work. But, then, what of Lilith? Without her aid would -his discoveries in spiritual science have progressed so far? Had he or -any man a right to call woman the “inferior” sex? -</p> - -<p> -“Madame,” he said slowly and with a vague embarrassment, “you bring an -accusation against our sex which it is impossible to refute, because -it is simply and undeniably true. Men do not love either chastity or -intellect in women.” -</p> - -<p> -He paused, looking at her, then went on: -</p> - -<p> -“A chaste woman is an embodied defiance and reproach to man; an -intellectual woman is always a source of irritation, because she is -invariably his superior. By this I mean that when a woman is -thoroughly gifted she is gifted all round; an intellectual man is -generally only gifted in one direction. For example, a great poet, -painter, or musician, may be admirable in his own line, but he -generally lacks in something; he is stupid, perhaps, in conversation, -or he blunders in some way by want of tact; but a truly brilliant -woman has all the charms of mental superiority, generally combined -with delicate touches of satire, humour, and wit,—points which she -uses to perfection against the lumbering animal Man, with the result -that she succeeds in pricking him in all his most vulnerable parts. He -detests her accordingly, and flies for consolation to the empty-headed -dolls of the music-hall, who flatter him to the top of his bent, in -order to get as much champagne and as many diamonds as they can out of -him. Man must be adored; he insists upon it, even if he pays for it!” -</p> - -<p> -“It is a pity he does not make himself a little more worthy of -adoration,” said Irene, with a slight scornful smile. -</p> - -<p> -“It is,” agreed El-Râmi; “but most men, even the ugliest and -stupidest, consider themselves perfect.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you?” she asked suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -“Do I consider myself perfect?” El-Râmi smiled and reflected on this -point. “Madame, if I am frank with you, and with myself, I must answer -‘Yes!’ I am made of the same clay as all my sex, and consider myself -worthy to be the conqueror of any woman under the sun! Ask any -loathsome, crooked-backed dwarf that sweeps a crossing for his -livelihood, and his idea of his own personal charm will be the same.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz laughed outright; Madame Vassilius looked amused and -interested. -</p> - -<p> -“You can never eradicate from the masculine nature,” proceeded -El-Râmi, “the idea that our attentions, no matter how uncouth, are, -and always must be, agreeable to the feminine temperament. Here you -have the whole secret of the battle carried on by men against women -who have won the prize of a world-wide fame. An intellectual woman -sets a barrier between herself and the beasts; the beasts howl, but -cannot leap it; hence their rage. You, Madame, are not only -intellectual, but lovely to look at; you stand apart, a crowned queen, -seeking no assistance from men; by your very manner you imply your -scorn of their low and base desires. They <i>must</i> detest you in -self-defence; most of your adverse critics are the poorly-paid hacks -of the daily journals, who envy you your house, your horses, your good -fortune, and your popularity with the public; if you want them to -admire you, go in for a big scandal. Run away with some blackguard; -have several husbands; do something to tarnish your woman’s -reputation; be a vulture or a worm, not a star; men do not care for -stars, they are too distant, too cold, too pure!” -</p> - -<p> -“Are you speaking satirically,” asked Madame Vassilius, “or in grim -earnest?” -</p> - -<p> -“In grim earnest, fair lady,” and El-Râmi rose from his chair and -confronted her with a half-smile. “In grim earnest, men are brutes! -The statement is one which is frequently made by what is called the -‘Shrieking Sisterhood’; but I, a man, agree to it in cold blood, -without conditions. We are stupid brutes; we work well in gangs, but -not so well singly. As soldiers, sailors, builders, engineers, -labourers, all on the gang method, we are admirable. The finest -paintings of the world were produced by bodies of men working under -one head, called ‘schools,’ but differing from our modern ‘schools’ in -this grand exception, that, whereas <i>now</i> each pupil tries his hand at -something of his own, <i>then</i> all the pupils worked at the one design -of the Master. Thus were painted the frescoes of Michael Angelo, and -the chief works of Raphael. Now the rule is ‘every man for himself and -the devil take the hindmost.’ And very poorly does ‘each man for -himself’ succeed. Men must always be helped along, either by each -other—or ... by ... a woman! Many of them owe all their success in -life to the delicate management and patient tact of woman, and yet -never have the grace to own it. Herein we are thankless brutes as well -as stupid. But, as far as I personally am concerned, I am willing to -admit that all my best discoveries, such as they are, are due to the -far-reaching intelligence and pure insight of a woman.” -</p> - -<p> -This remark utterly amazed Féraz; Madame Vassilius looked surprised. -</p> - -<p> -“Then,” she said, smiling slightly, “of course you love some one?” -</p> - -<p> -A shadow swept over El-Râmi’s features. -</p> - -<p> -“No, Madame; I am not capable of love, as this world understands -loving. Love has existence, no doubt, but surely not as Humanity -accepts it. For example, a man loves a woman; she dies; he gradually -forgets her, and loves another, and so on. That is not love, but it is -what society is satisfied with, as such. You are quite right to -despise such a fleeting emotion for yourself; it is not sufficient for -the demands of your nature; you seek something more lasting.” -</p> - -<p> -“Which I shall never find,” said Irene quietly. -</p> - -<p> -“Which you will find, and which you must find,” declared El-Râmi. -“All longings, however vague, whether evil or good, are bound to be -fulfilled, there being no waste in the economy of the universe. This -is why it is so necessary to weigh well the results of desire before -encouraging it. I quite understand your present humour, Madame—it is -one of restlessness and discontent. You find your crown of fame has -thorns; never mind! wear it royally, though the blood flows from the -torn brows. You are solitary at times, and find the solitude irksome; -Art serves her children thus—she will accept no half-love, but takes -all. Were I asked to name one of the most fortunate of women, I think -I should name you, for, notwithstanding the progress of your -intellectual capacity, you have kept your faith.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have kept my religion, if you mean that,” said Irene, impressed by -his earnestness; “but it is not the religion of the churches.” -</p> - -<p> -He gave an impatient gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“The religion of the churches is a mere Show-Sunday,” he returned. “We -all know that. When I say you have kept your faith, I mean that you -can believe in God without positive proofs of Him. That is a grand -capability in this age. I wish I had it!” -</p> - -<p> -Irene Vassilius looked at him wonderingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Surely you believe in God?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not till I can <i>prove</i> Him!” and El-Râmi’s eyes flashed defiantly. -“Vice triumphant, and Virtue vanquished, do not explain Him to me. -Torture and death do not manifest to my spirit His much-talked-of -‘love and goodness.’ I must unriddle His secret; I must pierce into -the heart of His plan, before I join the enforced laudations of the -multitude; I must know and feel that it is the truth I am proclaiming, -before I stand up in the sight of my fellows and say, ‘O God, Thou art -the Fountain of Goodness, and all Thy works are wise and wonderful!’” -</p> - -<p> -He spoke with remarkable power and emphasis; his attitude was full of -dignity. Madame Vassilius gazed at him in involuntary admiration. -</p> - -<p> -“It is a bold spirit that undertakes to catechise the Creator and -examine into the value of His creation,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“If there is a Creator,” said El-Râmi, “and if from Him all things do -come, then from Him also comes my spirit of inquiry. I have no belief -in a devil, but, if there were one, the Creator is answerable for him, -too. And to revert again to your questions, Madame, shall we not in a -way make God somewhat responsible for the universal prostitution of -woman? It is a world-wide crime, and only very slight attempts as yet -have been made to remedy it, because the making of the laws is in the -hands of men—the criminals. The Englishman, the European generally, -is as great a destroyer of woman’s life and happiness as any Turk or -other barbarian. The life of the average woman is purely animal; in -her girlhood she is made to look attractive, and her days pass into -the consideration of dress, appearance, manner, and conversation; when -she has secured her mate, her next business is to bear him children. -The children reared, and sent out into the world, she settles down -into old age, wrinkled, fat, toothless, and frequently quarrelsome; -the whole of her existence is not a grade higher than that of a -leopardess or other forest creature, and sometimes not so exciting. -When a woman rises above all this, she is voted by the men -‘unwomanly’; she is no longer the slave or the toy of their passions; -and that is why, my dear Madame, they give the music-hall dancer their -diamonds, and heap upon <i>you</i> their sneers.” -</p> - -<p> -Irene sat silent for some minutes, and a sigh escaped her. -</p> - -<p> -“Then it is no use trying to be a little different from the rest,” she -said wearily; “a little higher, a little less prone to vulgarity? If -one must be hated for striving to be worthy of one’s vocation——” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear lady, you do not see that men will never admit that -literature <i>is</i> your vocation! No, not even if you wrote as grand a -tragedy as ‘Macbeth.’ Your vocation, according to them, is to adore -their sex, to look fascinating, to wear pretty clothes, and purr -softly like a pleased cat when they make you a compliment; not to -write books that set everybody talking. They would rather see you -dragged and worn to death under the burden of half a dozen children, -than they would see you stepping disdainfully past them, in all the -glory of fame. Yet be content,—you have, like Mary in the Gospel, -‘chosen the better part;’ of that I feel sure, though I am unable to -tell you why or how I feel it.” -</p> - -<p> -“If you feel sure of certain things without being able to explain how -or why you feel them,” put in Féraz suddenly, “is it not equally easy -to feel sure of God without being able to explain how or why He -exists?” -</p> - -<p> -“Admirably suggested, my dear Féraz,” observed El-Râmi, with a -slight smile. “But please recollect that, though it may be easy to you -and a fair romancist like Madame Vassilius to feel sure of God, it is -not at all easy to me. I am not sure of Him; I have not seen Him, and -I am not conscious of Him. Moreover, if an average majority of people -taken at random could be persuaded to speak the truth for once in -their lives, they would all say the same thing—that they are not -conscious of Him. Because if they were—if the world were—the emotion -of fear would be altogether annihilated; there would never be any -‘panic’ about anything; people would not shriek and wail at the -terrors of an earthquake, or be seized with pallor and trembling at -the crash and horror of an unexpected storm. Being sure of God would -mean being sure of Good; and I’m afraid none of us are convinced in -that direction. But I think and believe that, if we indeed felt sure -of God, evil would be annihilated as well as fear. And the mystery is, -why does He not <i>make</i> us sure of Him? It must be in His power to do -so, and would save both Him and us an infinite deal of trouble.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz grew restless and left his place, laying down the volume he had -been pretending to read. -</p> - -<p> -“I wish you would not be so horribly, cruelly <i>definite</i> in your -suggestions,” he said rather vexedly. “What is the good of it? It -unsettles one’s mind.” -</p> - -<p> -“Surely your mind is not unsettled by a merely reasonable idea -reasonably suggested?” returned El-Râmi calmly. “Madame Vassilius -here is not ‘unsettled,’ as you call it.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” said Irene slowly; “but I had thought you more of a spiritual -believer——” -</p> - -<p> -“Madame,” said El-Râmi impressively, “I am a spiritual believer, but -in this way: I believe that this world and all worlds are composed of -Spirit and Matter, and not only do I believe it, but I <i>know</i> it! The -atmosphere around us and all planets is composed of Spirit and Matter; -and every living creature that breathes is made of the same dual -mixture. Of the Spirit that forms part of Matter and dominates it, I, -even <i>I</i> have some control; and others who come after me, treading in -the same lines of thought, will have more than I. I can influence the -spirit of man; I can influence the spirit of the air; I can draw an -essence from the earth upwards that shall seem to you like the wraith -of some one dead; but if you ask me whether these provable, -practicable scientific tests or experiments on the spirit, that is -part of Nature’s very existence, are manifestations of God or the -Divine, I say—No. God would not permit Man to play at will with His -eternal Fires; whereas, with the spirit essence that can be chemically -drawn from earth and fire and water, I, a mere studious and -considering biped, can do whatsoever I choose. I know how the legends -of phantoms and fairies arose in the world’s history, because at one -time, one particular period of the prehistoric ages, the peculiar, yet -natural combination of the elements and the atmosphere <i>formed</i> -‘fantasma’ which men saw and believed in. The last trace of these now -existing is the familiar ‘mirage’ of cities with their domes and -steeples seen during certain states of the atmosphere in mid-ocean. -Only give me the conditions, and I will summon up a ghostly city too. -I can form numberless phantasmal figures now, and more than this, I -can evoke for your ears, from the very bosom of the air, music such as -long ago sounded for the pleasure of men and women dead. For the air -is a better phonograph than Edison’s, and has the advantage of being -eternal.” -</p> - -<p> -“But such powers are marvellous!” exclaimed Irene. “I cannot -understand how you have attained to them.” -</p> - -<p> -“Neither can others less gifted understand how you Madame, have -attained your literary skill,” said El-Râmi “All art, all science, -all discovery, is the result of a concentrated Will, an indomitable -Perseverance. My ‘powers,’ as you term them, are really very slight, -and, as I said before, those who follow my track will obtain far -greater supremacy. The secret of phantasmal splendour or ‘vision,’ as -also the clue to what is called ‘unearthly music’—anything and -everything that is or pretends to be of a supernatural character in -this world—can be traced to natural causes, and the one key to it all -is the great fact that nothing in the Universe is lost. Bear that -statement well in mind. Light preserves all scenes; Air preserves all -sounds. Therefore, it follows that if the scenes are there, and the -sounds are there, they can be evoked again, and yet again, by him who -has the skill to understand the fluctuations of the atmospheric waves, -and the incessantly recurring vibrations of light. Do not imagine that -even a thought, which you very naturally consider your own, actually -remains a fixture in your brain from whence it was germinated. It -escapes while you are in the very act of thinking it; its subtle -essence evaporates into the air you breathe and the light you absorb. -If it presents itself to you again, it will probably be in quite a -different form, and perhaps you will hardly recognise it. All thought -escapes thus; you cannot keep it to yourself any more than you can -have breath without breathing.” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean that a thought belongs to all, and not to one individual?” -said Irene. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I mean that,” replied El-Râmi; “and thought, I may say, is the -only reflex I can admit of possible Deity, because thought is free, -absolute, all-embracing, creative, perpetual, and unwearied. Limitless -too—great Heaven, how limitless! To what heights does it not soar? In -what depths does it not burrow? How daring, how calm, how indifferent -to the ocean-swell of approaching and receding ages! Your modern -Theosophist, calmly counting his gains from the blind incredulity and -stupidity of the unthinking masses, is only copying, in a very -Liliputian manner, the grand sagacity and cunning of the ancient -Egyptian ‘magi,’ who, by scientific trickery, ruled the ignorant -multitude; it is the same thought, only dressed in modern aspect. -Thought, and the proper condensation, controlling and usage of -thought, is Power,—Divinity, if you will. And it is the only existing -Force that can make gods of men.” -</p> - -<p> -Irene Vassilius sat silent, fascinated by his words, and still more -fascinated by his manner. After a few minutes she spoke— -</p> - -<p> -“I am glad you admit,” she said gently, “that this all-potent Thought -may be a reflex of the Divine,—for we can have no reflections of -light without the Light itself. I came to you in a somewhat -discontented humour,—I am happier now. I suppose I ought to be -satisfied with my lot,—I am certainly more fortunately situated than -most women.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are, Madame”—said El-Râmi, smiling pensively and fixing his -dark eyes upon her with a kind expression,—“And your native good -sense and wit will prevent you, I hope, from marring the good which -the gods have provided for you. Do not marry yet,—it would be too -great a disillusion for you. The smallest touch of prose is sufficient -to destroy the delicacy of love’s finer sentiments; and marriage, as -the married will tell you, is all prose,—very prosy prose too. Avoid -it!—prosy prose is tiresome reading.” -</p> - -<p> -She laughed, and rose to take her leave. -</p> - -<p> -“I saw your brother with Mr. Ainsworth yesterday,” she observed—“And -I could not understand how two such opposite natures could possibly -agree.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, we did not agree,—we have not agreed,” said Féraz hastily, -speaking for himself—“It is not likely we shall see much of each -other.” -</p> - -<p> -“I am glad to hear it”—and she extended her hand to him, “You are -very young, and Roy Ainsworth is very old, not in years, but in heart. -It would be a pity for you to catch the contagion of our modern -pessimism.” -</p> - -<p> -“But——” Féraz hesitated and stammered, “it was you, was it not, -Madame, who suggested to Mr. Ainsworth that he should take me as the -model for one of the figures in his picture?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, it was I,” replied Irene with a slight smile—“But I never -thought you would consent,—and I felt sure that, even if you did, he -would never succeed in rendering your expression, for he is a mere -surface-painter of flesh, not soul—still, all the same, it amused me -to make the suggestion.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,—woman-like,” said El-Râmi—“You took pleasure in offering him -a task he could not fulfil. There you have another reason why -intellectual women are frequently detested—they ask so much and give -so little.” -</p> - -<p> -“You wrong us,” answered Irene swiftly. “When we love, we give all!” -</p> - -<p> -“And so you give too much!” said El-Râmi gravely—“It is the common -fault of women. You should never give ‘all’—you should always hold -back something. To be fascinating, you should be enigmatical. When -once man is allowed to understand your riddle thoroughly, the spell is -broken. The placid, changeless, monotonously amiable woman has no -power whatever over the masculine temperament. It is Cleopatra that -makes a slave of Antony, not blameless and simple Octavia.” -</p> - -<p> -Irene Vassilius smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“According to such a theory, the angels must be very tame and -uninteresting individuals,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi’s eyes grew lustrous with the intensity of his thought. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, Madame, our conception of angels is a very poor and false one, -founded on the flabby imaginations of ignorant priests. An Angel, -according to my idea, should be wild and bright and restless as -lightning, speeding from star to star in search of new lives and new -loves, with lips full of music and eyes full of fire, with every fibre -of its immortal being palpitating with pure yet passionate desires for -everything that can perfect and equalise its existence. The pallid, -goose-winged object represented to us as inhabiting a country of -No-Where without landscape or colour, playing on an unsatisfactory -harp and singing ‘Holy, holy’ for ever and ever, is no Angel, but -rather a libel on the whole systematic creative plan of the Universe. -Beauty, brilliancy, activity, glory and infinite variety of thought -and disposition—if these be not in the composition of an Angel, then -the Creator is but poorly served!” -</p> - -<p> -“You speak as if you had seen one of these immortals?” said Irene, -surprised. -</p> - -<p> -A shadow darkened his features. -</p> - -<p> -“Not I, Madame—except once—in a dream! You are going!—then -farewell! Be happy,—and encourage the angelic qualities in -yourself—for, if there be a Paradise anywhere, you are on the path -that leads to it.” -</p> - -<p> -“You think so?” and she sighed—“I hope you may be right,—but -sometimes I fear, and sometimes I doubt. Thank you for all you have -said,—it is the first time I have met with so much gentleness, -courtesy and patience from one of your sex. Good-bye!” -</p> - -<p> -She passed out, Féraz escorting her to her carriage, which waited at -the door; then he returned to his brother with a slow step and -meditative air. -</p> - -<p> -“Do men really wrong women so much as she seems to think?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi paused a moment,—then answered slowly: -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, Féraz, they do; and, as long as this world wags, they will! Let -God look to it!—for the law of feminine oppression is His—not ours!” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch29"> -XXIX. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">That</span> same week was chronicled one of the worst gales that had ever -been known to rage on the English coast. From all parts of the country -came accounts of the havoc wrought on the budding fruit-trees by the -pitiless wind and rain,—harrowing stories of floods and shipwrecks -came with every fresh despatch of news,—great Atlantic steamers were -reported “missing,” and many a fishing-smack went down in sight of -land, with all the shrieking, struggling souls on board. For four days -and four nights the terrific hurricane revelled in destruction, its -wrath only giving way to occasional pauses of heavy silence more awful -than its uproar; and, by the rocky shores of Ilfracombe, the scene of -nature’s riot, confusion and terror attained to a height of -indescribable grandeur. The sea rose in precipitous mountain-masses, -and anon wallowed in black abysmal chasms,—the clouds flew in a -fierce rack overhead like the forms of huge witches astride on -eagle-shaped monsters,—and with it all there was a close heat in the -air, notwithstanding the tearing wind,—a heat and a sulphureous -smell, suggestive of some pent-up hellish fire that but waited its -opportunity to break forth and consume the land. On the third day of -the gale, particularly, this curious sense of suffocation was almost -unbearable, and Dr. Kremlin, looking out of his high tower window in -the morning at the unquiet sky and savage sea, wondered, as the wind -scudded past, why it brought no freshness with it, but only an -increased heat, like the “simoom” of the desert. -</p> - -<p> -“It is one of those days on which it would seem that God is really -angry,” mused Kremlin—“angry with Himself, and still more angry with -His creature.” -</p> - -<p> -The wind whistled and shrieked in his ears as though it strove to -utter some wild response to his thought,—the sullen roaring and -battling of the waves on the beach below sounded like the clashing -armour of contesting foes,—and the great Disc in the tower revolved, -or appeared to revolve, more rapidly than its wont, its incessant -whirr-whirring being always distinctly heard above the fury of the -storm. To this, his great work, the chief labour of his life, Dr. -Kremlin’s eyes turned wistfully, as, after a brief observation of the -turbulent weather, he shut his window fast against the sheeting rain. -Its shining surface, polished as steel, reflected the lights and -shadows of the flying storm-clouds, in strange and beautiful groups -like moving landscapes—now and then it flashed with a curious -lightning glare of brilliancy as it swung round to its appointed -measure, even as a planet swings in its orbit. A new feature had been -added to the generally weird effect of Kremlin’s strange studio or -workshop,—this was a heavy black curtain made of three thicknesses of -cloth sewn closely together, and weighted at the end with -bullet-shaped balls of lead. It was hung on a thick iron pole, and ran -easily on indiarubber rings,—when drawn forward it covered the Disc -completely from the light without interfering with any portion of its -mechanism. Three days since, Kremlin had received El-Râmi’s letter -telling him what the monk from Cyprus had said concerning the “Third -Ray” or the messages from Mars, and, eagerly grasping at the smallest -chance of any clue to the labyrinth of the Light-vibrations, he had -lost no time in making all the preparations necessary for this grand -effort, this attempt to follow the track of the flashing signal whose -meaning, though apparently unintelligible, might yet with patience be -discovered. So, following the suggestions received, he had arranged -the sable drapery in such a manner that it could be drawn close across -the Disc, or, in a second, be flung back to expose the whole surface -of the crystal to the light,—all was ready for the trial, when the -great storm came and interfered. Dense clouds covered the -firmament,—and not for one single moment since he received the monk’s -message had Kremlin seen the stars. However, he was neither -discouraged nor impatient,—he had not worked amid perplexities so -long to be disheartened now by a mere tempest, which in the ordinary -course of nature would wear itself out, and leave the heavens all the -clearer both for reflection and observation. Yet he, as a -meteorologist, was bound to confess that the fury of the gale was of -an exceptional character, and that the height to which the sea lifted -itself before stooping savagely towards the land and breaking itself -in hissing spouts of spray was stupendous, and in a manner appalling. -Karl, his servant, was entirely horrified at the scene,—he hated the -noise of the wind and waves, and more than all he hated the incessant -melancholy scream of the sea-birds that wheeled in flocks round and -round the tower. -</p> - -<p> -“It is for all the world like the shrieks of drowning men”—he said, -and shivered, thinking of the pleasantly devious ways of the Rhine and -its placid flowing,—placid even in flood, as compared with the -howling ocean, all madness and movement and terror. Twice during that -turbulent day Karl had asked his master whether the tower “shook.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course!” answered Dr. Kremlin with a smile in his mild eyes—“Of -course it shakes,—it can hardly do otherwise in such a gale. Even a -cottage shakes in a fierce wind.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh yes, a cottage shakes,” said Karl meditatively—“but then if a -cottage blows away altogether it doesn’t so much matter. Cottages are -frequently blown away in America, so they say, with all the family -sitting inside. That’s not a bad way of travelling. But when a tower -flies through the air it seldom carries the family with it except in -bits.” -</p> - -<p> -Kremlin laughed, but did not pursue the conversation, and Karl went -about his duties in a gloomy humour, not common to his cheerful -temperament. He really had enough to put him out, all things -considered. Soot fell down the kitchen chimney—a huge brick also -landed itself with a crash in the fender,—there were crevices in the -doors and windows through which the wind played wailing sounds like a -“coronach” on the bagpipes;—and then, when he went out into the -courtyard to empty the pail of soot he had taken from the grate, he -came suddenly face to face with an ugly bird, whose repulsive aspect -quite transfixed him for the moment and held him motionless, staring -at it. It was a cormorant, and it stood huddled on the pavement, -blinking its disagreeable eyes at Karl,—its floppy wings were -drenched with the rain, and all over the yard was the wet trail of its -feathers and feet. -</p> - -<p> -“Shoo!” cried Karl, waving his arms and the pail of soot all -together—“Shoo! Beast!” -</p> - -<p> -But the cormorant appeared not to mind—it merely set about preening -its dirty wing. -</p> - -<p> -Karl grew savage, and, running back to the kitchen, brought shovel, -tongs and a broom, all of which implements he flung in turn at the -horrid-looking creature, which, finally startled, rose in air uttering -dismal cries as it circled higher and higher, the while Karl watched -its flight,—higher and higher it soared, till at last he ran out of -the courtyard to see where it went. Round and round the house it flew, -seeming to be literally tossed to and fro by the wind, its unpleasant -shriek still echoing distinctly above the deep boom of the sea, till -suddenly it made a short sweep downwards, and sat on the top of the -tower like a squat black phantom of the storm. -</p> - -<p> -“Nasty brute!” said Karl, shaking his clenched fist at it—“If the -Herr Doctor were like any other man, which he is not, he would have a -gun in the house, and I’d shoot that vile screamer. Now it will sit -cackling and yelling there all day and all night perhaps. Pleasant, -certainly!” -</p> - -<p> -And he went indoors, grumbling more than ever. Everything seemed to go -wrong that day,—the fire wouldn’t burn,—the kettle wouldn’t -boil,—and he felt inwardly vexed that his master was not as morose -and irritable as himself. But, as it happened, Dr. Kremlin was in a -singularly sweet and placid frame of mind,—the noise of the gale -seemed to soothe rather than agitate his nerves. For one thing, he was -much better in health, and looked years younger than when El-Râmi -visited him, bringing the golden flask whose contents were guaranteed -to give him a new lease of life. So far indeed the elixir had done its -work,—and to all appearances he might have been a well-preserved man -of about fifty, rather than what he actually was, close upon his -seventy-fourth year. As he could take no particularly interesting or -useful observations from his Disc during the progress of the tempest, -he amused himself with the task of perfecting one or two of his -“Light-Maps” as he called them, and he kept at this work with the -greatest assiduity and devotion all the morning. These maps were -wonderfully interesting, if only for the extreme beauty, intricacy and -regularity of the patterns,—one set of “vibrations” as copied from -the reflections on the Disc formed the exact shape of a branch of -coral,—another gave the delicate outline of a frond of fern. All the -lines ran in waves,—none of them were straight. Most of them were in -small ripples,—others were larger—some again curved broadly, and -turned round in a double twist, forming the figure 8 at long intervals -of distance, but all resolved themselves into a definite pattern of -some sort. -</p> - -<p> -“Pictures in the sky!” he mused, as he patiently measured and -re-touched the lines. “And all different!—not two of them alike! What -do they all mean?—for they must mean something. Nothing—not the -lowest atom that exists is without a meaning and a purpose. Shall I -ever discover the solution to the Light-mystery, or is it so much -God’s secret that it will never become Man’s?” -</p> - -<p> -So he wondered, puzzling himself, with a good deal of pleasure in the -puzzle. He was happy in his work, despite its strange and difficult -character,—El-Râmi’s elixir had so calmed and equalised his physical -temperament that he was no longer conscious of worry or perplexity. -Satisfied that he had years of life before him in which to work, he -was content to let things take their course, and he laboured on in the -spirit that all labour claims, “without haste, without rest.” Feverish -hurry in work,—eagerness to get the rewards of it before -conscientiously deserving them,—this disposition is a curse of the -age we live in and the ruin of true art,—and it was this delirium of -haste that had seized Kremlin when he had summoned El-Râmi to his -aid. Now, haste seemed unnecessary;—there was plenty of time, -and—possessed of the slight clue to the “Third Ray,”—plenty of hope -as well, or so he thought. -</p> - -<p> -In the afternoon the gale gradually abated, and sank to a curiously -sudden dead calm. The sea still lifted toppling foam-crowned peaks to -the sky, and still uttered shattering roars of indignation,—but there -was a break in the clouds and a pale suggestion of sunshine. As the -evening closed in, the strange dull quietness of the air -deepened,—the black mists on the horizon flashed into stormy red for -an instant when the sun set,—and then darkened again into an ominous -greenish-gray. Karl, who was busy cooking his master’s dinner, stopped -stirring some sauce he was making, to listen, as it were, to the -silence,—the only sound to be heard was the long roll and swish of -the sea on the beach,—and even the scream of the gulls was stilled. -Spoon in hand he went out in the yard to observe the weather; all -movement in the heavens seemed to have been suddenly checked, and -masses of black cloud rested where they were, apparently motionless. -And while he looked up at the sky he could hardly avoid taking the top -of the tower also into his view;—there, to his intense disgust, still -sate his enemy of the morning, the cormorant. Something that was not -quite choice in the way of language escaped his lips as he saw the -hateful thing;—its presence was detestable to him and filled his mind -with morbid imaginations which no amount of reasoning could chase -away. -</p> - -<p> -“And yet what is it but a bird!” he argued with himself angrily, as he -went indoors and resumed his cooking operations—“A bird of prey, fond -of carrion—nothing more. Why should I bother myself about it? If I -told the Herr Doctor that it was there, squatting at ease on his -tower, he would very likely open the window, invite the brute in, and -offer it food and shelter for the night. For he is one of those -kind-hearted people who think that all the animal creation are worthy -of consideration and tenderness. Well,—it may be very good and broad -philosophy,—all the same, if I caught a rat sitting in my bed, I -shouldn’t like it,—nor would I care to share my meals with a lively -party of cockroaches. There are limits to Christian feelings. And, as -for that beast of a bird outside, why, it’s better outside than in, so -I’ll say nothing about it.” -</p> - -<p> -And he devoted himself more intently than ever to the preparation of -the dinner,—for his master had now an excellent appetite, and ate -good things with appreciation and relish, a circumstance which greatly -consoled Karl for many other drawbacks in the service he had -undertaken. For he was a perfect cook, and proud of his art, and that -night he was particularly conscious of the excellence of the little -tasty dishes he had, to use an art-term, “created,” and he watched his -master enjoy their flavour, with a proud, keen sense of his own -consummate skill. -</p> - -<p> -“When a man relishes his food it is all right with him,” he -thought.—“Starving for the sake of science may be all very well, but -if it kills the scientist what becomes of the science?” -</p> - -<p> -And he grew quite cheerful in the contemplation of the “Herr Doctor’s” -improved appetite, and by degrees almost forgot the uncanny bird that -was still sitting on the topmost ledge of the tower. -</p> - -<p> -Among other studious habits engendered by long solitude into which -Kremlin had fallen, was the somewhat unhygienic one of reading at -meals. Most frequently it was a volume of poems with which he beguiled -the loneliness of his dinner, for he was one of those rare few who -accept and believe in what may be called the “Prophecies” of Poesy. -These are in very truth often miraculous, and it can be safely -asserted that if the writers of the Bible had not been poets they -would never have been prophets. A poet,—if he indeed <i>be</i> a poet, and -not a mere manufacturer of elegant verse,—always raves—raves madly, -blindly, incoherently of things he does not really understand. -Moreover, it is not himself that raves—but a Something within -him,—some demoniac or angelic spirit that clamours its wants in wild -music, which by throbbing measure and degree resolves itself, after -some throes of pain on the poet’s part, into a peculiar and -occasionally vague language. The poet, as man, is no more than man; -but that palpitating voice in his mind gives him no rest, tears his -thoughts piecemeal, rends his soul, and consumes him with feverish -trouble and anxiety not his own, till he has given it some sort of -speech, however mystic and strange. If it resolves itself into a -statement which appals or amazes, he, the poet, cannot help it; if it -enunciates a prophecy he is equally incapable of altering or refuting -it. When Shakespeare wrote the three words, “Sermons in stones,” he -had no idea that he was briefly expounding with perfect completeness -the then to him unknown science of geology. The poet is not born of -flesh alone, but of spirit—a spirit which dominates him whether he -will or no, from the very first hour in which his childish eyes look -inquiringly on leaves and flowers and stars—a spirit which catches -him by the hands, kisses him on the lips, whispers mad nothings in his -startled ears, flies restlessly round and about him, brushing his -every sense with downy, warm, hurrying wings,—snatches him up -altogether at times and bids him sing, write, cry out strange oracles, -weep forth wild lamentations, and all this without ever condescending -to explain to him the reason why. It is left to the world to discover -this “Why,” and the discovery is often not made till ages after the -poet’s mortal dust has been transformed to flowers in the grass which -little children gather and wear unknowingly. The poet whose collected -utterances Dr. Kremlin was now reading, as he sipped the one glass of -light burgundy which concluded his meal, was Byron; the fiery singer -whose exquisite music is pooh-poohed by the insipid critics of the -immediate day, who, jealous of his easily-won and world-wide fame, -grudge him the laurel, even though it spring from the grave of a hero -as well as bard. The book was open at “Manfred,” and the lines on -which old Kremlin’s eyes rested were these: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“How beautiful is all this visible world!</p> -<p class="i0">How glorious in its action and itself!</p> -<p class="i0">But we who name ourselves its sovereigns, we</p> -<p class="i0">Half dust, half deity, alike unfit</p> -<p class="i0">To sink or soar, with our mix’d essence make</p> -<p class="i0">A conflict of its elements, and breathe</p> -<p class="i0">The breath of degradation and of pride,</p> -<p class="i0">Contending with low wants and lofty will.</p> -<p class="i0">Till our mortality predominates,</p> -<p class="i0">And men are,—what they name not to themselves,</p> -<p class="i0">And trust not to each other.”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“Now that passage is every whit as fine as anything in Shakespeare,” -thought Kremlin—“and the whole secret of human trouble is in it;—it -is not the world that is wrong, but we—we ‘who make a conflict of its -elements.’ The question is, if we are really ‘unfit to sink or soar’ -is it our fault?—and may we not ask without irreverence why we were -made so incomplete? Ah, my clever friend El-Râmi Zarânos has set -himself a superhuman task on the subject of this ‘Why,’ and I fancy I -shall find out the riddle of Mars, and many another planet besides, -before he ‘proves,’ as he is trying to do, the conscious and -individual existence of the soul.” -</p> - -<p> -He turned over the pages of “Manfred” thoughtfully, and then stopped, -his gaze riveted on the splendid lines in which the unhappy hero of -the tragedy flings his last defiance to the accusing demons— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“The mind which is immortal makes itself</p> -<p class="i0">Requital for its good or evil thoughts—</p> -<p class="i0">Is its own origin of ill and end—</p> -<p class="i0">And its own place and time—its innate sense,</p> -<p class="i0">When stripped of this mortality, derives</p> -<p class="i0">No colour from the fleeting things without,</p> -<p class="i0">But is absorbed in sufferance or in joy,</p> -<p class="i0">Born from the knowledge of its own desert.</p> -<p class="i0">Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not tempt;</p> -<p class="i0">I have not been thy dupe, nor am thy prey—</p> -<p class="i0">But was my own destroyer, and will be</p> -<p class="i0">My own hereafter.—Back, ye baffled fiends!</p> -<p class="i0">The hand of death is on me,—but not yours!”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“And yet people will say that Byron was an immoral writer!” murmured -Kremlin—“In spite of the tremendous lesson conveyed in those lines! -There is something positively terrifying in that expression— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">‘But was my own destroyer, and will be</p> -<p class="i0">My own hereafter.’</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -What a black vista of possibilities——” -</p> - -<p> -Here he broke off, suddenly startled by a snaky blue glare that -flashed into the room like the swift sweep of a sword-blade. Springing -up from the table he rubbed his dazzled eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Why—what was that?” he exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -“Lightning!” replied Karl, just entering at the moment—“and a very -nasty specimen of it. ... I’d better put all the knives and steel -things by.” -</p> - -<p> -And he proceeded to do this, while Kremlin still stood in the centre -of the room, his sight yet a little confused by the rapidity and -brilliancy of that unexpected storm-flash. A long low ominous -muttering of thunder, beginning far off and rolling up nearer and -nearer till it boomed like a volley of cannon in unison with the roar -of the sea, followed,—then came silence. No rain fell, and the wind -only blew moderately enough to sway the shrubs in front of the house -lightly to and fro. -</p> - -<p> -“It will be a stormy night,” said Dr. Kremlin then, recovering himself -and taking up his Byron—“I am sorry for the sailors! You had better -see well to all the fastenings of the doors and windows.” -</p> - -<p> -“Trust me!” replied Karl sententiously—“You shall not be carried out -to sea against your will if I can help it—nor have I any desire to -make such a voyage myself. I hope, Herr Doctor”—he added with a touch -of anxiety—“you are not going to spend this evening in the tower?” -</p> - -<p> -“I certainly am!” answered Kremlin, smiling—“I have work up there, -and I cannot afford to be idle on account of a thunderstorm. Why do -you look so scared? There is no danger.” -</p> - -<p> -“I didn’t say there was”—and Karl fidgeted uneasily—“but—though -I’ve never been inside it, I should think the tower was lonesome, and -I should fancy there might be too close a view of the lightning to be -quite pleasant.” -</p> - -<p> -Kremlin looked amused, and, walking to the window, pushed back one of -the curtains. -</p> - -<p> -“I believe it was a false alarm,” he said, gazing at the sea—“That -flash and thunder-peal were the parting notes of a storm that has -taken place somewhere else. See!—the clouds are clearing.” -</p> - -<p> -So in truth they were; the evening, though very dark, seemed to give -promise of a calm. One or two stars twinkled faintly in a -blackish-blue breadth of sky, and, perceiving these shining monitors -and problems of his life’s labour, Kremlin wasted no more time in -words, but abruptly left the room and ascended to his solitary studio. -Karl, listening, heard the closing of the heavy door aloft and the -grating of the key as it turned in the lock,—and he also heard that -strange perpetual whirring noise above, which, though he had in a -manner grown accustomed to it, always remained for him a perplexing -mystery. Shaking his head dolefully, and with a somewhat troubled -countenance, he cleared the dining-table, set the room in order, went -down to his kitchen, cleaned, rubbed, and polished everything till his -surroundings were as bright as it was possible for them to be, and -then, pleasantly fatigued, sat down to indite a letter to his mother -in the most elaborate German phraseology he could devise. He was -rather proud of his “learning,” and he knew his letters home were read -by nearly all the people in his native village as well as by his -maternal parent, so that he was particularly careful in his efforts to -impress everybody by the exceeding choiceness of his epistolary -“style.” Absorbed in his task, he at first scarcely noticed the -gradual rising of the wind, which, having rested for a few hours, now -seemed to have awakened in redoubled strength and fury. Whistling -under the kitchen door it came, with a cold and creepy chill,—it -shook the windows angrily, and then, finding the door of the outside -pantry open, shut it to with a tremendous bang, like an irate person -worsted in an argument. Karl paused, pen in hand; and, as he did so, a -dismal cry echoed round the house, the sound seeming to fall from a -height and then sweep over the earth with the wind, towards the sea. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s that brute of a bird!” said Karl half aloud—“Nice cheerful -voice he has, to be sure!” -</p> - -<p> -At that moment the kitchen was illuminated from end to end by a wide -blue glare of lightning, followed, after a heavy pause, by a short -loud clap of thunder. The hovering storm had at last gathered together -its scattered forces, and, concentrating itself blackly above the -clamorous sea, now broke forth in deadly earnest. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch30"> -XXX. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Kremlin</span> meanwhile had reached his tower in time to secure a glimpse -of the clearer portion of the sky before it clouded over again. -Opening the great window, he leaned out and anxiously surveyed the -heavens. There was a little glitter of star-groups above his head, and -immediately opposite an almost stirless heavy fleece of blackness, -which he knew by its position hid from his sight the planet Mars, the -brilliant world he now sought to make the chief centre of his -observations. He saw that heavy clouds were slowly rolling up from the -south, and he was quite prepared for a fresh outbreak of storm and -rain, but he was determined to take advantage, if possible, of even a -few moments of temporary calm. And with this intention he fixed his -gaze watchfully on the woolly-looking dark mass of vapour that -concealed the desired star from his view, having first carefully -covered the steadily revolving Disc with its thick sable curtain. -Never surely was there a more weird and solemn-looking place than the -tower-room as it now appeared; no light in it at all save a fitful -side-gleam from the whirling edge of the Disc,—all darkness and -monotonous deep sound, with that patient solitary figure leaning at -the sill of the wide-open window, gazing far upward at the pallid -gleam of those few distant stars that truly did no more than make -“darkness visible.” The aged scientist’s heart beat quickly; the -weight of long years of labour and anxiety seemed to be lifted from -his spirit, and it was with almost all the ardour of his young student -days that he noted the gradual slow untwisting and dividing of those -threads of storm-mist, that like a dark web, woven by the Fates, -veiled the “red planet” whose flashing signal might prove to be the -key to a thousand hitherto unexplored mysteries. It was strange that -just at this particular moment of vague suspense his thoughts should -go wandering in a desultory wilful fashion back to his past,—and that -the history of his bygone life seemed to arrange itself, as it were, -in a pattern as definite as the wavy lines on his “Light-Maps” and -with just as <i>in</i>definite a meaning. He, who had lived that life, was -as perplexed concerning its ultimate intention as he was concerning -the ultimate meanings conveyed by the light-vibrations through air. He -tried to keep his ideas centred on the scientific puzzle he was -attempting to unravel,—he strove to think of every small fact that -bore more or less on that one central object,—he repeated to himself -the A B C of his art, concerning the vibrations of light on that first -natural reflector, the human eye,—how, in receiving the impression of -the colour red, for instance, the nerves of the eye are set quivering -<i>four hundred and eighty-two millions of millions of times</i>; or, of -the colour violet, seven hundred and seven millions of millions of -times <i>per second</i>. How could he hope to catch the rapid flash of the -“Third Ray” under these tremendous conditions? Would it not vanish -from the very face of the Disc before he had time to track its -circuit? But, though he strove to busy his brain with conjectures and -calculations, he was forced, in spite of himself, to go on groping -into the Past; that wonderful Past when he had been really -young—young with a youth not born of El-Râmi’s secret -concoctions,—but youth as it is received fresh and perfect from the -hand of Divinity—the talisman which makes all the world an Eden of -roses without thorns. He saw himself as he used to be, a slim student, -fair-haired and blue-eyed, absorbed in science, trying strange -experiments, testing new chemical combinations, ferreting out the -curious mysteries of atmospheric phenomena, and then being gradually -led to consider the vast amount of <i>apparently unnecessary</i> Light <i>per -second</i>, that pours upon us from every radiating object in the -firmament, bearing in mind the fact that our Earth itself radiates -through Space, even though its glimmer be no more than that of a spark -amid many huge fires. He remembered how he had pored over the strange -but incontestable fact that two rays of light starting from the same -point and travelling in the same direction frequently combine to -produce darkness, by that principle which is known in the science of -optics as the <i>interference</i> of the rays of light,—and how, in the -midst of all this, his work had been suddenly interrupted and put a -stop to by a power the stars in their courses cannot gainsay—Love. -Yes—he had loved and been beloved,—this poor, gentle, dreamy -man;—one winter in Russia—one winter when the snows lay deep on the -wild steppes and the wolves were howling for hunger in the gloom of -the forests,—he had dreamed his dream, and wakened from -it—broken-hearted. She whom he loved, a beautiful girl connected with -the Russian nobility, was associated, though he knew it not, with a -secret society of Nihilists, and was all at once arrested with several -others and accused of being party to a plot for the assassination of -the Tsar. Found guilty, she was sentenced to exile in Siberia, but -before the mandate could be carried out she died by her own hand, -poisoned in her prison cell. Kremlin, though not “suspect,” went -almost mad with grief, and fled from Russia never to set his foot on -its accursëd soil again. People said that the excess of his sorrow, -rage and despair had affected his brain, which was possible, as his -manner and mode of living, and the peculiar grooves of study into -which he fell, were undoubtedly strange and eccentric—and -yet—tenderness for his dead love, self-murdered in her youth and -beauty, kept him sensitively alive to human needs and human -suffering,—there was no scorn or bitterness in his nature, and his -faith in the unseen God was as great as El-Râmi’s doubt. But, left as -he was all alone in the world, he plunged into the obscure depths of -science with greater zest than ever, striving to forget the dire agony -of that brief love-drama, the fatal end of which had nearly closed his -own career in madness and death. And so the years drifted on and on in -work that every day grew more abstruse and perplexing, till he had -suddenly, as it were, found himself old,—too old, as he told himself -with nervous trembling, ever to complete what he had begun. Then he -had sent for El-Râmi; El-Râmi whom he had met and wondered at, -during his travels in the East years ago ... and El-Râmi, at his -desire, by strange yet potent skill, had actually turned back time in -its too rapid flight—and a new lease of life was vouchsafed to -him;—he had leisure,—long, peaceful leisure in which to carry out -his problems to perfection, if to carry them out were at all possible. -For had not El-Râmi said—“You cannot die, except by violence”? -</p> - -<p> -And thus, like the “star-patterns,” all the fragments of his personal -history came into his mind to-night as he waited at his tower-window, -watching the black pavilion under which the world of Mars swung round -in its fiery orbit. -</p> - -<p> -“Why do I think of all these bygone things just now?” he asked himself -wonderingly—“I who so seldom waste my time in looking back, my work -being all for the Future?” -</p> - -<p> -As he murmured the words half aloud, a rift showed itself in the cloud -he was observing,—a rift which widened gradually and broke up the -dark mass by swift and ever swifter degrees. Fold after fold of mist -dissolved and dispersed itself along the sky, swept by the wings of -the newly-arisen wind, and Mars, angrily crimson and stormily -brilliant, flashed forth a lurid fire ... In less time than -imagination can depict, Kremlin had noiselessly flung the black -curtain back from his disc, ... and with his eyes riveted upon its -gleaming pearly surface he waited ... scarcely breathing, ... every -nerve in his body seeming to contract and grow rigid with expectation -and something like dread. A pale light glistened on the huge disc ... -it was gone! ... another flash, ... and this remained trembling in -wavy lines and small revolving specks—now ... now ... the Third!—and -Kremlin craned his head forward eagerly ... it came!—like a drop of -human blood it fell, and raced more rapidly than quicksilver round and -round the polished surface of the disc, paling in tint among the other -innumerable silvery lines ... flashed again redly ... and ... -disappeared! A cry of irrepressible disappointment broke from -Kremlin’s lips. -</p> - -<p> -“Impossible! ... my God! ... impossible!” -</p> - -<p> -Ay!—impossible surely to track such velocity of motion—impossible to -fix the spot where first its dazzling blood-like hue fell, and where -it at last vanished. And yet Kremlin waited on in feverish -expectancy,—his lips apart, his breath coming and going in quick -uneasy gasps, his straining eyes fixed on that terrible, inscrutable -creation of his own skill, that fearful Mirror of the heavens which -reflected so much and betrayed so little! ... Heedless of the -muttering roar of the wind which now suddenly assailed the tower, he -stood, fascinated by the dazzling play of light that illumined the -disc more brilliantly than usual. A dismal scream,—the cry of the -cormorant perched on the roof above him, echoed faintly in his ears, -but he scarcely heard it, so absorbed was he in his monstrous Enigma; -till—all at once, a blue shaft of lightning glared in at the window, -its brief reflection transforming the disc for a second to an almost -overwhelming splendour of glittering colour. The strong blaze dazzled -Kremlin’s eyes,—and as the answering thunder rattled through the sky -he reluctantly moved from his position and went towards the window to -shut it against the threatening storm. But when he reached it he saw -that the planet Mars was yet distinctly visible; the lightning and -thunder came from that huge bank of clouds in the south he had before -noticed,—clouds which were flying rapidly up, but had not yet -entirely obscured the heavens. In eager and trembling haste he hurried -back to the disc,—it seemed alive with light, and glistened from -point to point like a huge jewel as it whirled and hummed its strange -monotonous music,—and, shading his eyes, he remained close beside it, -determined to watch it still, hoping against hope that another red -flash like the one he had lately seen might crimson the quivering mass -of silvery intersecting lines which he knew were not so much the -light-vibrations of stars now as reflexes of the electricity pent up -in the tempestuous atmosphere. -</p> - -<p> -“Patience ... patience!” he murmured aloud—“A moment more, and -perhaps I shall see, ... I shall know ... I shall find what I have -sought. ...” -</p> - -<p> -The last words were yet trembling on his lips when a fearful forkëd -tongue of red flame leaped from the clouds, descending obliquely like -a colossal sword, ... it smote the tower, splitting its arched roof -and rending its walls asunder,—and with the frightful boom and bellow -of thunder that followed, echoing over land and sea for miles and -miles there came another sound, ... a clanging jangle of chains and -wires and ponderous metals, ... the mighty mass of the glittering -Star-Dial swirled round unsteadily once ... twice ... quivered ... -stopped ... and then ... slipping from its wondrous pendulum, hurled -itself forward like a monster shield and fell! ... fell with an -appalling crash and thud, bringing the roof down upon itself in a -blinding shower of stones and dust and mortar. ... And then ... why, -then nothing! Nothing but dense blackness, muttering thunder, and the -roaring of the wind. -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -Outside, frantic with fear, Karl shook and battered at the -firmly-locked and bolted door of the tower. When that forked flash of -lightning had struck the house, it had stretched him senseless in his -kitchen,—he had, however, recovered after a few minutes’ -unconsciousness, dazed and stunned, but otherwise unhurt, and, -becoming gradually alive to the immediate dangers of the situation, he -had, notwithstanding the fury of the gale and the deafening peals of -thunder, rushed out of doors instinctively to look at the tower. One -glance showed him what had happened,—it was split asunder, and showed -dimly against the stormy night like a yawning ruin round which in time -the ivy might twist and cling. Breathless and mad with terror, he had -rushed back to the house and up the stairs, and now stood impatiently -clamouring outside the impenetrable portal whose firm interior -fastenings resisted all his efforts. He called, he knocked, he -kicked,—and then, exhausted with the vain attempt, stopped to listen. -... Nothing! ... not a sound! He made a hollow of his hands and put -his mouth to the keyhole. -</p> - -<p> -“Herr Doctor! ... Herr Doctor!” -</p> - -<p> -No answer,—except the stormy whistle of the blast. -</p> - -<p> -“No help for it!” he thought desperately, tears of excitement and -alarm gathering in his eyes—“I must call for assistance,—rouse the -neighbours and break open the door by force.” -</p> - -<p> -He ran downstairs and out of the house bareheaded, to be met by a -sudden sweep of rain which fell in a straight unpremeditated way from -the clouds in stinging torrents. Heedless of wind and wet he sped -along, making direct for some fishermen’s cottages whose inhabitants -he knew and whom in a manner he was friendly with, and, having roused -them up by shouts and cries, explained to them as briefly as possible -what had happened. As soon as they understood the situation four stout -fellows got ready to accompany him, and taking pickaxes, crowbars, -boathooks, and any other such implements as were handy, they ran -almost as quickly as Karl himself to the scene of the catastrophe. -Their excitement was to the full as great as his, till they reached -the top of the staircase and stood outside the mysterious door—there -they hung back a moment hesitatingly. -</p> - -<p> -“Call him again”—one whispered to Karl. “Mebbe he’s in there safe and -sound and did not hear ye at fust.” -</p> - -<p> -To satisfy the man’s scruples Karl obeyed, and called and called, and -knocked and knocked again and yet again,—with the same result,—no -answer, save the derisive yell of the gale. -</p> - -<p> -“He be dead an’ gone for sure”—said a second man, with a slight -pallor coming over his sea-tanned face—“Well ... well! ... if so be -as we <i>must</i> break down th’ door——” -</p> - -<p> -“Here, give me one of those things”—cried Karl impatiently, and -snatching a crowbar he began dealing heavy blows at the massive -nail-studded oaken barrier. Seeing him so much in earnest, his -companions lost the touch of superstitious dread that had made them -hesitate, and also set themselves to work with a will, and in a few -minutes—minutes which to the anxious Karl seemed ages,—the door was -battered in, ... and they all rushed forward, ... but the fierce wind, -tearing wildly around them, caught the flame of the lamp they carried -and extinguished it, so that they were left in total darkness. But -over their heads the split roof yawned, showing the black sky, and -about their feet was a mass of fallen stones and dust and -indistinguishable ruin. As quickly as possible they re-lit the lamp -and, holding it aloft, looked tremblingly, and without speaking a -word, at the havoc and confusion around them. At first little could be -seen but heaped-up stones and bricks and mortar, but Karl’s quick eyes -roving eagerly about caught sight suddenly of something black under a -heap of débris,—and quickly bending down over it he began with his -hands to clear away the rubbish,—the other men, seeing what he was -trying to do, aided him in his task, and in about twenty minutes’ time -they succeeded in uncovering a black mass, huge and inanimate. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” whispered one of the men—“It’s ... it’s not him?” -</p> - -<p> -Karl said nothing—he felt himself turning sick with dread, ... he -touched that doubtful blackness—it was a thick cloth like a great -pall—it concealed ... what? Recklessly he pulled and tugged at it, -getting his hands lacerated by a tangled mesh of wires and -metals,—till, yielding at last to a strong jerk, it came away in -weighty clinging folds, disclosing what to him seemed an enormous -round stone, which, as the lamp-light flashed upon it, glistened -mysteriously with a thousand curious hues. Karl grasped its edge in an -effort to lift it—his fingers came in contact with something moist -and warm, and, snatching them away in a sort of vague horror, he saw -that they were stained with blood. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh my God! my God!” he cried—“He is down there,—underneath this -thing! ... help me to lift it, men!—lift it for Heaven’s sake!—lift -it, quick—quick!” -</p> - -<p> -But, though they all dragged at it with a will, the work was not so -easy—the great Disc had fallen flat, and lay solemnly inert—and that -oozing blood,—the blood of the too daring student of the stars who -had designed its mystic proportions,—trickled from under it with -sickening rapidity. At last, breathless and weary, they were about to -give up the task in despair, when Karl snatched from out the ruins the -iron needle or pendulum on which the Disc had originally swung, and, -all unknowing what it was, thrust it cautiously under the body of the -great stone to aid in getting a firmer hold of it, ... to his -amazement and terror the huge round mass caught and clung to it, like -warm sealing-wax to a piece of paper, and in an instant seemed to have -magically dispensed with all its weight, for as, with his unassisted -strength, he lifted the pendulum, the Disc lifted itself lightly and -easily with it! A cry of fear and wonder broke from all the men,—Karl -himself trembled in every limb, and big drops of cold sweat broke out -on his forehead at what he deemed the devilish horror of this miracle. -But as he, with no more difficulty than he would have experienced in -heaving up a moderate-sized log of wood, raised the Disc and flung it -back and away from him shudderingly, pendulum and all, his eyes fell -on <i>what</i> had lain beneath it, ... a crushed pulp of human flesh and -streaming blood—and reverend silver hairs ... and with a groan that -seemed to rend his very heart Karl gave one upward sick stare at the -reeling sky, and fainted, ... as unconscious for the time being as -that indistinguishable mangled mass of perished mortality that once -had been his master. -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -Gently and with compassionate kindness, the rough fishers who stood by -lifted him up and bore him out of the tower and down the stairs,—and, -after a whispered consultation, carried him away from the house -altogether to one of their own cottages, where they put him under the -care of one of their own women. None of them could sleep any more that -night; they stood in a group close by their humble habitations, -watching the progress of the storm, and ever and anon casting -awe-stricken glances at the shattered tower. -</p> - -<p> -“The devil was in it”—said one of the men at last, as he lit his pipe -and endeavoured to soothe his nerves by several puffs at that smoky -consoler—“or else how would it rise up like that as light as a -feather at the touch of an iron pole?” -</p> - -<p> -“It must ’a weighed twenty stun at least”—murmured another man -meditatively. -</p> - -<p> -“What <i>was</i> it?” demanded a third—“I should ’a took it for a big -grindstone if it hadn’t sparkled up so when the light fell on it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, it may stay where it is for all I care,” said the first -speaker—“I wouldn’t touch it again for a hundred pound!” -</p> - -<p> -“Nor I.” “Nor I.” -</p> - -<p> -They were all agreed on that point. -</p> - -<p> -“Wotever he were a-doin’ on,”—said the fourth man gravely—“whether -it were God’s work or the devil’s, it’s all over now. He’s done for, -poor old chap! It’s an awful end—God rest his soul!” -</p> - -<p> -The others lifted their caps and murmured “Amen” with simple -reverence. Then they looked out at the dark wallowing trough of the -sea. -</p> - -<p> -“How the wind roars!” said the last speaker. -</p> - -<p> -“Ay, it do roar,” replied the man who was his mate in the boat when -they went fishing; “and did ye hear a cormorant scream a while ago?” -</p> - -<p> -“Ay, ay! I heard it!” They were silent then, and turned in, after -making inquiries concerning Karl at the cottage where they had left -him. He was still unconscious. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch31"> -XXXI. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">A couple</span> of days later, El-Râmi was engaged in what was not a very -favourite occupation with him,—he was reading the morning’s -newspaper. He glanced over the cut-and-dry chronicle of “Storms and -Floods”—he noted that a great deal of damage had been wrought by the -gale at Ilfracombe and other places along the Devonshire coast,—but -there was nothing of any specially dreadful import to attract his -attention, and nothing either in politics or science of any pressing -or vital interest. There were two or three reviews of books, one of -these being pressed into a corner next to the advertisement of a -patent pill; there were announcements of the movements of certain -human units favoured with a little extra money and position than -ordinary, as being “in” or “out” of town, and there was a -loftily-patronising paragraph on the “Theosophical Movement,” or, as -it is more frequently termed, the “Theosophical Boom.” From this, -El-Râmi learned that a gentleman connected with the Press, who wrote -excessively commonplace verse, and thereby had got himself and his -name (through the aforesaid press connection) fairly well known, had -been good enough to enunciate the following amazing platitude:—“That, -as a great portion of the globe is composed of elements which cannot -be seen, and as the study of the invisible may be deemed as legitimate -as the study of the visible, he” (the press-connected versifier) “is -inclined to admit that there are great possibilities on the lines of -that study.” -</p> - -<p> -“Inclined to admit it, is he!” and El-Râmi threw aside the paper and -broke into a laugh of the sincerest enjoyment, “Heavens! what fools -there are in this world, who call themselves wise men! This little -poetaster, full of the conceit common to his imitative craft, is -‘inclined to admit’ that there are great possibilities in the study of -the invisible! Excellent condescension! How the methods of life have -turned topsy-turvy since the ancient days! Then the study of the -Invisible was the first key to the study of the Visible,—the things -which are seen being considered only as the reflexes of the things -which are unseen—the Unseen being accepted as Cause, the Seen as -Effect. Now we all drift the other way,—taking the Visible as -Fact,—the Invisible as Fancy!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz, who was writing at a side-table, looked up at him. -</p> - -<p> -“Surely you are inconsistent?” he said—“You yourself believe in -nothing unless it is <i>proved</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“But then, my dear fellow, I <i>can</i> prove the Invisible and follow the -grades of it, and the modes by which it makes itself the Visible,—to -a certain extent—but only to a certain extent. Beyond the provable -limit I do not go. You, on the contrary, aided by the wings of -imagination, outsoar that limit, and profess to find angels, -star-kingdoms, and God Himself. I cannot go so far as this. But, -unlike our blown-out frog of a versifier here, who would fain persuade -mankind he is a bull, I am not only ‘inclined’ to admit—I <i>do</i> admit -that there are ‘great possibilities’—only I must test them all before -I can accept them as facts made clear to my comprehension.” -</p> - -<p> -“Still, you believe in the Invisible?” -</p> - -<p> -“Naturally. I believe in the millions of suns in the Milky Way, though -they can scarcely be called ‘visible.’ I should be a fool if I did not -believe in the Invisible, under the present conditions of the -Universe. But I cannot be tricked by ‘shams’ of the Invisible. The -Theosophical business is a piece of vulgar imposture, in which the -professors themselves are willing to delude their own imaginations, as -well as the imaginations of others—they are the most wretched -imitators that ever were of the old Eastern sorcerers,—the fellows -who taught Moses and Aaron how to frighten their ignorant cattle-like -herds of followers. None of the modern ‘mediums,’ as they are called, -have the skill over atmospheric phenomena, metals, and light-reflexes -that Apollonius of Tyana had, or Alexander the Paphlagonian. Both -these scientific sorcerers were born about the same time as Christ, -and Apollonius, like Christ, raised a maiden from the dead. Miracles -were the fashion in that period of time,—and, according to the -monotonous manner in which history repeats itself, they are coming -into favour again in this century. All that we know now has been -already known. The ancient Greeks had their ‘penny-in-the-slot’ -machine for the purpose of scattering perfume on their clothes as they -passed along the streets—they had their ‘syphon’ bottles and vases as -we have, and they had their automatically opening and closing doors. -Compare the miserable ‘spiritualistic phenomena’ of the Theosophists -with the marvels wrought by Hakem, known as Mokanna! Mokanna could -cause an orb like the moon to rise from a well at a certain hour and -illumine the country for miles and miles around. How did he do it? By -a knowledge of electric force applied to air and water. The ‘bogies’ -of a modern <i>séance</i> who talk bad grammar and pinch people’s toes and -fingers are very coarse examples of necromancy, compared with the -scientific skill of Mokanna and others of this tribe. However, -superstition is the same in all ages, and there will always be fools -ready to believe in ‘Mahatmas’ or anything else,—and the old -‘incantation of the Mantra’ will, if well done, influence the minds of -the dupes of the nineteenth century quite as effectively as it did -those of the bygone ages before Christ.” -</p> - -<p> -“What is the incantation of the Mantra?” asked Féraz. -</p> - -<p> -“A ridiculous trick”—replied El-Râmi—“known to every Eastern -conjurer and old woman who professes to see the future. You take your -dupe, and fling a little water over him, fixing upon him your eyes and -all the force of your will,—then, you take a certain mixture of -chemical substances and perfumes, and set them on fire—the flames and -fumes produce a dazzling and drowsy effect on the senses of your -‘subject,’ who will see whatever you choose him to see, and hear -whatever you intend him to hear. But Will is the chief ingredient of -the spell,—and if I, for example, choose to influence any one, I can -dispense with both water and fire—I can do it alone and without any -show of preparation.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know you can!” said Féraz meaningly, with a slight smile, and then -was silent. -</p> - -<p> -“I wonder what the art of criticism is coming to nowadays!” exclaimed -El-Râmi presently, taking up the paper again—“Here is a remark -worthy of Dogberry’s profundity—‘<i>This is a book that must be read to -be understood.</i>’<a href="#fn3b" id="fn3a">[3]</a> Why, naturally! Who can understand a book without -reading it?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz laughed—then his eyes darkened. -</p> - -<p> -“I saw an infamous so-called critique of one of Madame Vassilius’s -books the other day”—he said—“I should like to have thrashed the man -who wrote it. It was not criticism at all—it was a mere piece of -scurrilous vulgarity.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, but that sort of thing pays!” retorted El-Râmi satirically. “The -modern journalist attains his extremest height of brilliancy when he -throws the refuse of his inkpot at the name and fame of a woman more -gifted than himself. It’s nineteenth-century chivalry you know,—above -all ... it’s manly!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz shrugged his shoulders with a faint gesture of contempt. -</p> - -<p> -“Then—if there is any truth in old chronicles—men are not what they -were;”—he said. -</p> - -<p> -“No—they are not what they were, my dear boy—because all things have -changed. Women were once the real slaves and drudges of men,—now, -they are very nearly their equals, or can be so if they choose. And -men have to get accustomed to this—at present they are in the -transition state and don’t like it. Besides, there will always be male -tyrants and female drudges as long as the world lasts. Men are not -what they were,—and, certes, they are not what they might be.” -</p> - -<p> -“They might be gods;”—said Féraz—“but I suppose they prefer to be -devils.” -</p> - -<p> -“Precisely!” agreed El-Râmi—“it is easier, and more amusing.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz resumed his writing in silence. He was thinking of Irene -Vassilius, whom he admired;—and also of that wondrous Sleeping Beauty -enshrined upstairs whose loveliness he did not dare to speak of. He -had latterly noticed a great change in his brother,—an indefinable -softness seemed to have imperceptibly toned down the habitual cynicism -of his speech and manner,—his very expression of countenance was more -gracious and benign,—he looked handsomer,—his black eyes shot forth -a less fierce fire,—and yet, with all his gentleness and entire lack -of impatience, he was absorbed from morning to night in such close and -secret study as made Féraz sometimes fear for its ultimate result on -his health. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you really believe in prayer, Féraz?” was the very unexpected -question he now asked, with sudden and startling abruptness; “I mean, -do you think any one in the invisible realms <i>hears</i> us when we pray?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz laid down his pen, and gazed at his brother for a moment -without answering. Then he said slowly— -</p> - -<p> -“Well, according to your own theories the air is a vast -phonograph,—so it follows naturally that everything is <i>heard</i> and -<i>kept</i>. But as to prayer, that depends, I think, altogether on how you -pray. I do not believe in it at all times. And I’m afraid my ideas on -the subject are quite out of keeping with those generally -accepted——” -</p> - -<p> -“Never mind—let me have them, whatever they are”—interrupted -El-Râmi with visible eagerness—“I want to know when and how you -pray?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, the fact is I very seldom pray”—returned Féraz—“I offer up -the best praise I can in mortal language devise, both night and -morning—but I never <i>ask</i> for anything. It would seem so vile to ask -for more, having already so much. And I am sure God knows best—in -which case I have nothing to ask, except one thing.” -</p> - -<p> -“And that is——?” queried his brother. -</p> - -<p> -“Punishment!” replied Féraz emphatically; “I pray for that—I crave -for that—I implore that I may be punished at once when I have done -wrong, that I may immediately recognise my error. I would rather be -punished here, than hereafter.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi paled a little, and his lips trembled. -</p> - -<p> -“Strange boy!” he murmured—“All the churches are praying God to take -away the punishments incurred for sin,—you, on the contrary, ask for -it as if it were a blessing.” -</p> - -<p> -“So it is a blessing”—declared Féraz—“It must be a blessing—and it -is absurd of the churches to pray against a Law. For it is a Law. -Nature punishes us, when we physically rebel against the rules of -health, by physical suffering and discomfort,—God punishes us in our -mental rebellions by mental wretchedness. This is as it should be. I -believe we get everything in this world that we deserve—no more and -no less.” -</p> - -<p> -“And do you never pray”—continued El-Râmi slowly, “for the -accomplished perfection of some cherished aim,—the winning of some -special joy——” -</p> - -<p> -“Not I”—said Féraz—“because I know that if it be good for me I -shall have it,—if bad, it will be withheld; all my prayers could not -alter the matter.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi sat silent for a few minutes,—then, rising, he took two or -three turns up and down the room, and gradually a smile, half -scornful, half sweet, illumined his dark features. -</p> - -<p> -“Then, O young and serene philosopher, I will not pray!” he said, his -eyes flashing a lustrous defiance—“I have a special aim in view—I -mean to grasp a joy!—and whether it be good or bad for me, I will -attempt it unassisted.” -</p> - -<p> -“If it be good you will succeed;”—said Féraz with a glance -expressive of some fear as well as wonderment. “If it be bad, you will -not. God arranges these things for us.” -</p> - -<p> -“God—God—always God!” cried El-Râmi with some impatience—“No God -shall interfere with me!” At that moment there came a hesitating knock -at the street door. Féraz went to open it, and admitted a pale -grief-stricken man whose eyes were red and heavy with tears and whose -voice utterly failed him to reply when El-Râmi exclaimed in -astonishment: -</p> - -<p> -“Karl! ... Karl! You here? Why, what has happened?” -</p> - -<p> -Poor Karl made a heroic struggle to speak,—but his emotion was too -strong for him—he remained silent, and two great drops rolled down -his cheeks in spite of all his efforts to restrain them. -</p> - -<p> -“You are ill;”—said Féraz kindly, pushing him by gentle force into a -chair and fetching him a glass of wine—“Here, drink this—it will -restore you.” -</p> - -<p> -Karl put the glass aside tremblingly, and tried to smile his -gratitude,—and presently gaining a little control over himself he -turned his piteous glances towards El-Râmi whose fine features had -become suddenly grave and fixed in thought. -</p> - -<p> -“You ... you ... have not heard, sir——” he stammered. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi raised his hand gently, with a solemn and compassionate -gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“Peace, my good fellow!—no, I have not heard,—but I can -guess;—Kremlin, ... your master ... is dead.” -</p> - -<p> -And he was silent for many minutes. Fresh tears trickled from Karl’s -eyes, and he made a pretence of tasting the wine that Féraz pressed -upon him—Féraz, who looked as statuesque and serene as a young -Apollo. -</p> - -<p> -“You must console yourself;”—he said cheerfully to Karl, “Poor Dr. -Kremlin had many troubles and few joys—now he has gone where he has -no trouble and all joy.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” sighed Karl dolefully—“I wish I could believe that, sir,—I -wish I could believe it! But it was the judgment of God upon him—it -was indeed!—that is what my poor mother would say,—the judgment of -God!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi moved from his meditative attitude with a faint sense of -irritation. The words he had so lately uttered—“No God shall -interfere with me”—re-echoed in his mind. And now here was this -man,—this servant, weeping and trembling and talking of the “judgment -of God” as if it were really something divinely directed and -inexorable. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” he asked, endeavouring to suppress the impatience -in his voice—“Of course, I know he must have had some violent end, or -else he could not”—and he repeated the words impressively—“could not -have died,—but was there anything more than usually strange in the -manner of his death?” -</p> - -<p> -Karl threw up his hands. -</p> - -<p> -“More than usually strange! Ach, Gott!” and, with many interpolations -of despair and expressions of horror, he related in broken accents the -whole of the appalling circumstances attending his master’s end. In -spite of himself a faint shudder ran through El-Râmi’s warm blood as -he heard—he could almost see before him the horrible spectacle of the -old man’s mangled form lying crushed under the ponderous Disc his -daring skill had designed; and under his breath he murmured, “Oh -Lilith, oh my too happy Lilith! and yet you tell me there is no -death!” Féraz, however, the young and sensitive Féraz, listened to -the sad recital with quiet interest, unhorrified, apparently -unmoved,—his eyes were bright, his expression placid. -</p> - -<p> -“He could not have suffered;”—he observed at last, when Karl had -finished speaking—“The flash of lightning must have severed body and -spirit instantly and without pain. I think it was a good end.” -</p> - -<p> -Karl looked at the beautiful smiling youth in vague horror. What!—to -be flattened out like a board beneath a ponderous weight of fallen -stone—to be so disfigured as to be unrecognisable—to be only a -mangled mass of flesh difficult of decent burial,—and call that “a -good end”! Karl shuddered and groaned;—he was not versed in the -strange philosophies of young Féraz—<i>he</i> had never been out of his -body on an ethereal journey to the star-kingdoms. -</p> - -<p> -“It was the judgment of God,”—he repeated dully—“Neither more nor -less. My poor master studied too hard, and tried to find out too much, -and I think he made God angry——” -</p> - -<p> -“My good fellow,” interrupted El-Râmi rather irritably—“do not talk -of what you do not understand. You have been faithful, hard-working -and all the rest of it,—but as for your master trying to find out too -much, or God getting angry with him, that is all nonsense. We were -placed on this earth to find out as much as we can, about it and about -ourselves, and do the best that is possible with our learning,—and -the bare idea of a great God condescending to be ‘angry’ with one out -of millions upon millions of units is absurd——” -</p> - -<p> -“But even if an unit rebels against the Law the Law crushes -him”—interrupted Féraz softly—“A gnat flies into flame—the flame -consumes it—the Law is fulfilled,—and the Law is God’s Will.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi bit his lip vexedly. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, be that as it may, one must needs find out what the Law <i>is</i> -first, before it can either be accepted or opposed,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz made no answer. He was thinking of the simplicity of certain -Laws of Spirit and Matter which were accepted and agreed to by the -community of men of whom the monk from Cyprus was the chief master. -</p> - -<p> -Karl meanwhile stared bewilderedly from Féraz to El-Râmi and from -El-Râmi back to Féraz again. Their remarks were totally beyond his -comprehension; he never could understand, and never wanted to -understand, these subtle philosophies. -</p> - -<p> -“I came to ask you, sir”—he said after a pause—“whether you would -not, now you know all, manage to take away that devilish thing that -killed my master? I’m afraid to touch it myself, and no one else -will—and there it lies up in the ruined tower shining away like a big -lamp, and sticking like a burr to the iron rod I lifted it with, If -it’s any good to you, I’m sure you’d better have it—and by the bye, I -found this, sir, in my master’s room addressed to you.” -</p> - -<p> -He held out a sealed envelope, which El-Râmi opened. It contained a -folded paper, on which were scratched these lines— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">To El-Râmi Zarânos</span>. -</p> - -<p> -“Good friend, in the event of my death, I beg you to accept all my -possessions such as they are, and do me the one favour I ask, which is -this—Destroy the Disc, and let my problem die with me.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -This paper, duly signed, bore the date of two years previously. -El-Râmi read it, and handed it to Karl, who read it also. They were -silent for a few minutes; then El-Râmi crossed the room, and, -unlocking a small cupboard in the wall, took out a sealed flask full -of what looked like red wine. -</p> - -<p> -“See here, Karl”—he said;—“There is no devil in the great stone you -are so afraid of. It is as perishable as anything else in this best of -all possible worlds. It is nothing but a peculiar and rare growth of -crystal, which, though found in the lowest depths of the earth, has -the quality of absorbing light and emitting it. It clings to the iron -rod in the way you speak of because it is a magnet,—and iron not only -attracts but fastens it. It is impossible for me just now to go to -Ilfracombe—besides there is really no necessity for my presence -there. I can fully trust you to bring me the papers and few -possessions of my poor old friend,—and for the rest, you can destroy -the stone yourself—the Disc, as your master called it. All you have -to do is simply to pour this liquid on it,—it will pulverise—that -is, it will crumble into dust while you watch it, and in ten minutes -will be indistinguishable from the fallen mortar of the shattered -tower. Do you understand?” -</p> - -<p> -Karl’s mouth opened a little in wonderment, and he nodded feebly,—he -found it quite easy and natural to be afraid of the flask containing a -mixture of such potent quality, and he took it from El-Râmi’s hand -very gingerly and reluctantly. A slight smile crossed El-Râmi’s -features as he said— -</p> - -<p> -“No, Karl! there is no danger—no fear of pulverisation for <i>you</i>. You -can put the phial safely in your pocket,—and though its contents -would pulverise a mountain if used in sufficient quantities,—the -liquid has no effect on flesh and blood.” -</p> - -<p> -“Pulverise a mountain!” repeated Karl nervously—“Do you mean that it -could turn a mountain into a dust-heap?” -</p> - -<p> -“Or a city—or a fortress—or a rock-bound coast—or anything in the -shape of stone that you please”—replied El-Râmi carelessly—“but it -will not harm human beings.” -</p> - -<p> -“Will it not explode, sir?” and Karl still looked at the flask in -doubt. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no—it will do its work with extraordinary silence and no less -extraordinary rapidity. Do not be afraid!” -</p> - -<p> -Slowly and with evident uneasiness Karl put the terrifying composition -into his pocket, deeply impressed by the idea that he had about him -stuff, which, if used in sufficient quantity, could “pulverise a -mountain.” It was awful! worse than dynamite, he considered, his -thoughts flying off wantonly to the woes of Irishmen and Russians. -El-Râmi seemed not to notice his embarrassment and went on talking -quietly, asking various questions concerning Kremlin’s funeral, and -giving advice as to the final arrangements which were necessary, till -presently he inquired of Karl what he proposed doing with himself in -the future. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh I shall look out for another situation,”—he said—“I shall not go -back to Germany. I like to think of the ‘Fatherland,’ and I can sing -the ‘Wacht am Rhein’ with as much lung as anybody, but I wouldn’t care -to live there. I think I shall try for a place where there’s a lady to -serve; you know, sir, gentlemen’s ways are apt to be monotonous. -Whether they are clever or foolish they always stick to it, whatever -it is. A gentleman that races is always racing, and always talking and -thinking about racing,—a gentleman that drinks is always on the -drink,—a gentleman that coaches is always coaching, and so on; now a -lady <i>does</i> vary! One day she’s all for flowers, another for pictures, -another for china,—sometimes she’s mad about music, sometimes about -dresses,—or else she takes a fit for study, and gets heaps of books -from the libraries. Now for a man-servant all that is very agreeable -and lively.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz laughed at this novel view of domestic service, and Karl, -growing a little more cheerful, went on with his explanation— -</p> - -<p> -“You see, supposing I get into a lady’s service, I shall have so much -more to distract me. One afternoon I shall be waiting outside a -picture-gallery with her shawls and wraps; another day I shall be -running backwards and forwards to a library,—and then there’s always -the pleasure of never quite knowing what she will do next. And it’s -excitement I want just now—it really is!” -</p> - -<p> -The corners of his good-humoured mouth drooped again despondently, and -his thoughts reverted with unpleasant suddenness to the “pulverising” -liquid in his pocket. What a terrible thing it was to get acquainted -with scientists! -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi listened to his observations patiently. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, Karl,” he said at last—“I think I can promise you a situation -such as you would like. There is a very famous and lovely lady in -London, known to the reading-world as Irene Vassilius—she writes -original books; is sweetly capricious, yet nobly kind-hearted. I will -write to her about you, and I have no doubt she will give you a -trial.” -</p> - -<p> -Karl brightened up immensely at this prospect. -</p> - -<p> -“Thank you, sir!” he said fervently—“You’ve no idea what a deal of -good it will do me to take in the tea to a sweet-looking lady—a -properly-served tea, you know, all silver and good china. It will be a -sort of tonic to me,—it will indeed, after that terrible place at -Ilfracombe. You can tell her I’m a very handy man,—I can do almost -anything, from cooking a chop, up to stretching my legs all day in a -porter’s chair in the hall and reading the latest ‘special.’ Anything -she wishes, whether for show or economy, she couldn’t have a better -hand at it than me;—will you tell her so, sir?” -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly!” replied El-Râmi with a smile. “I’ll tell her you are a -domestic Von Moltke, and that under your management her household will -be as well ordered as the German army under the great Field-Marshal.” -</p> - -<p> -After a little more desultory conversation, Karl took his departure, -and returned by the afternoon train to Ilfracombe. He was living with -one of his fisher-friends, and as it was late when he arrived he made -no attempt to go to the deserted house of his deceased master that -night. But early the next morning he hurried there before breakfast, -and ascended to the shattered tower,—that awful scene of desolation -from whence poor Kremlin’s mangled remains had been taken, and where -only a dark stain of blood on the floor silently testified of the -horror that had there been enacted. The Disc, lying prone, glittered -as he approached it, with, as he thought, a fiendish and supernatural -light—the early sunlight fell upon its surface, and a thousand -prismatic tints and sparkles dazzled his eyes as he drew near and -gazed dubiously at it where it still clung to the iron pendulum. What -could his master have used such a strange object for?—what did it -mean? And that solemn humming noise which he had used to hear when the -nights were still,—had that glistening thing been the cause?—had it -any sound? ... Struck by this idea, and filled with a sudden courage, -he seized a piece of thick wire, part of the many tangled coils that -lay among the ruins of roof and wall, and with it gave the Disc a -smart blow on its edge ... hush! ... hush! ... The wire dropped from -his hand, and he stood, almost paralysed with fear. A deep, solemn, -booming sound, like a great cathedral bell, rang through the -air,—grand, and pure and musical, and ... unearthly!—as might be the -clarion stroke of a clock beating out, not the short pulsations of -Time, but the vast throbs of Eternity. Round and round, in eddying -echoes swept that sweet, sonorous note,—till—growing gradually -fainter and fainter, it died entirely away from human hearing, and -seemed to pass out and upwards into the gathering sun-rays that poured -brightly from the east, there to take its place, perchance, in that -immense diapason of vibrating tone-music that fills the star-strewn -space for ever and ever. It was the last sound struck from the great -Star-Dial:—for Karl, terrified at the solemn din, wasted no more time -in speculative hesitation, but, taking the flask El-Râmi had given -him, he opened it tremblingly and poured all its contents on the -surface of the crystal. The red liquid ran over the stone like blood, -crumbling it as it ran and extinguishing its brilliancy,—eating its -substance away as rapidly as vitriol eats away the human -skin,—blistering it and withering it visibly before Karl’s astonished -eyes,—till, as El-Râmi had said, it was hardly distinguishable from -the dust and mortar around it. One piece lasted just a little longer -than the rest—it curled and writhed like a living thing under the -absolutely noiseless and terribly destructive influence of that -blood-like liquid that seemed to sink into it as water sinks into a -sponge,—Karl watched it, fascinated—till all at once it broke into a -sparkle like flame, gleamed, smouldered, leaped high ... -and—disappeared. The wondrous Dial, with its “perpetual motion” and -its measured rhythm, was as if it had never been,—it had vanished as -utterly as a destroyed Planet,—and the mighty Problem reflected on -its surface remained ... and will most likely still remain ... a -mystery unsolved. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch32"> -XXXII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">For</span> two or three weeks after he had received the news of Kremlin’s -death, El-Râmi’s mind was somewhat troubled and uneasy. He continued -his abstruse studies ardently, yet with less interest than usual,—and -he spent hour after hour in Lilith’s room, sitting beside the couch on -which she reposed, saying nothing, but simply watching her, himself -absorbed in thought. Days went by and he never roused her,—never -asked her to reply to any question concerning the deep things of time -and of eternity with which her aërial spirit seemed conversant. He -was more impressed by the suddenness and terror of Kremlin’s end than -he cared to admit to himself,—and the “Light-Maps” and other papers -belonging to his deceased old friend, all of which had now come into -his possession, were concise enough in many marvellous particulars to -have the effect of leading him almost imperceptibly to believe that -after all there was a God,—an actual Being whose magnificent -attributes baffled the highest efforts of the imagination, and who -indeed, as the Bible grandly hath it—“holds the Universe in the -hollow of His hand.” And he began to go back to the Bible for -information;—for he, like most students versed in Eastern -philosophies, knew that all that was ever said or will be said on the -mysteries of life and death is to be found in that Book, which, though -full of much matter that does not pertain to its actual teaching, -remains the one chief epitome of all the wisdom of the world. When it -is once remembered that the Deity of Moses and Aaron was their own -invented hobgoblin, used for the purpose of terrifying and keeping the -Jews in order, much becomes clear that is otherwise impossible to -accept or comprehend. Historians, priests, lawgivers, prophets and -poets have all contributed to the Bible,—and when we detach class -from class and put each in its proper place, without confounding them -all together in an inextricable jumble as “Divine inspiration,” we -obtain a better view of the final intention of the whole. El-Râmi -considered Moses and Aaron in the light of particularly clever Eastern -conjurers,—and not only conjurers, but tacticians and diplomatists, -who had just the qualities necessary to rule a barbarous, ignorant, -and rebellious people. The thunders of Mount Sinai, the graving of the -commandments on tablets of stone,—the serpent in the wilderness,—the -bringing of water out of a rock,—the parting of the sea to let an -army march through; he, El-Râmi, knew how all these things were done, -and was perfectly cognisant of the means and appliances used to -compass all these seemingly miraculous events. -</p> - -<p> -“What a career I could make if I chose!” he thought—“What wealth I -could amass,—what position! I who know how to quell the wildest waves -of the sea,—I who, by means of a few drops of liquid, can corrode a -name or a device so deeply on stone that centuries shall not efface -it—I who can do so many things that would astonish the vulgar and -make them my slaves,—why am I content to live as I do, when I could -be greater than a crowned king? Why, because I scorn to trick the -ignorant by scientific skill which I have neither the time nor the -patience to explain to them—and again—because I want to fathom the -Impossible;—I want to prove if indeed there is any Impossible. What -<i>can</i> be done and proved, when once it <i>is</i> done and proved, I regard -as nothing,—and because I know how to smooth the sea, call down the -rain, and evoke phantoms out of the atmosphere, I think such -manifestations of power trifling and inadequate. These things are all -<i>provable</i>; and the performance of them is attained through a familiar -knowledge of our own earth elements and atmosphere, but to find out -the subtle Something that is not of earth, and has not yet been made -provable,—that is the aim of my ambition. The Soul! What is it? Of -what ethereal composition? of what likeness? of what feeling? of what -capacity? This, and this alone, is the Supreme Mystery,—when once we -understand it, we shall understand God. The preachers waste their time -in urging men and women to save their souls, so long as we remain in -total ignorance as to what the Soul <span class="sc">is</span>. We cannot be expected to -take any trouble to “save” or even regard anything so vague and -dubious as the Soul under its present conditions. What is visible and -provable to our eyes is that our friends die, and, to all intents and -purposes, disappear. We never know them as they were any more, ... -and, ... what is still more horrible to think of, but is nevertheless -true,—our natural tendency is to forget them,—indeed, after three or -four years, perhaps less, we should find it difficult, without the aid -of a photograph or painted picture, to recall their faces to our -memories. And it is curious to think of it, but we really remember -their ways, their conversation, and their notions of life better than -their actual physiognomies. All this is very strange and very -perplexing too,—and it is difficult to imagine the reason for such -perpetual tearing down of affections, and such bitter loss and -harassment, unless there is some great Intention behind it all,—an -Intention of which it is arranged we shall be made duly cognisant. If -we are <i>not</i> to be made cognisant,—if we are <i>not</i> to have a full and -perfect Explanation,—then the very fact of Life being lived at all is -a mere cruelty,—a senseless jest which lacks all point,—and the very -grandeur and immensity of the Universe becomes nothing but the meanest -display of gigantic Force remorselessly put forth to overwhelm -creatures who have no power to offer resistance to its huge tyranny. -If I could but fathom that ultimate purpose of things!—if I could but -seize the subtle clue—for I believe it is something very slight and -delicate which by its very fineness we have missed,—something which -has to do with the Eternal Infinitesimal—that marvellous power which -creates animated and regularly organised beings, many thousands of -whose bodies laid together would not extend <i>one inch</i>. It is not to -the Infinitely Great one must look for the secret of creation, but to -the Infinitely Little.” -</p> - -<p> -So he mused, as he sat by the couch of Lilith and watched her sleeping -that enchanted sleep of death-in-life. Old Zaroba, though now -perfectly passive and obedient, and fulfilling all his commands with -scrupulous exactitude, was not without her own ideas and hopes as she -went about her various duties connected with the care of the beautiful -tranced girl. She seldom spoke to Féraz now except on ordinary -household matters, and he understood and silently respected her -reserve. She would sit in her accustomed corner of Lilith’s regal -apartment, weaving her thread-work mechanically, but ever and anon -lifting her burning eyes to look at El-Râmi’s absorbed face and note -the varied expressions she saw, or fancied she saw there. -</p> - -<p> -“The feverish trouble has begun”—she muttered to herself on one -occasion, as she heard her master sigh deeply—“The stir in the -blood,—the restlessness—the wonder—the desire. And out of heart’s -pain comes heart’s peace;—and out of desire, accomplishment; and -shall not the old gods of the world rejoice to see love born again of -flames and tears and bitter-sweet as in the ancient days? For there is -no love now such as there used to be—the pale Christ has killed -it,—and the red rose aglow with colour and scent is now but a dull -weed on a tame shore, washed by the salt sea, but never warmed by the -sun. In the days of old, in the nights when Ashtaroth was queen of the -silver hours, the youths and maidens knew what it was to love in the -very breath of Love!—and the magic of all Nature, the music of the -woods and waters, the fire of the stars, the odours of the -flowers—all these were in the dance and beat of the young blood, and -in the touch of the soft red lips as they met and clung together in -kisses sweeter than honey in wine. But now—now the world has grown -old and cold, and dreary and joyless,—it is winter among men and the -summer is past.” -</p> - -<p> -So she would murmur to herself in her wild half-poetical jargon of -language—her voice never rising above an inarticulate whisper. -El-Râmi never heard her or seemed to regard her—he had no eyes -except for the drowsing Lilith. -</p> - -<p> -If he had been asked, at this particular time, why he went to that -room day after day, to stare silently at his beautiful “subject” and -ponder on everything connected with her, he could not have answered -the question. He did not himself know why. Something there was in him, -as in every portion of created matter, which remained -inexplicable,—something of his own nature which he neither understood -nor cared to analyse. He who sought to fathom the last depth of -research concerning God and the things divine would have been -compelled to own, had he been cross-examined on the matter, that he -found it impossible to fathom himself. The clue to his own Ego was as -desperately hard to seize, as curiously subtle and elusive, as the -clue to the riddle of Creation. He was wont to pride himself on his -consistency—yet in his heart of hearts he knew that in many things he -was inconsistent,—he justly triumphed in his herculean -Will-force,—yet now he was obliged to admit to himself that there was -something in the silent placid aspect of Lilith as she lay before him, -subservient to his command, that quite unnerved him and scattered his -thoughts. It had not used to be so—but now,—it <i>was</i> so. And he -dated the change, whether rightly or wrongly, from the day on which -the monk from Cyprus had visited him, and this thought made him -restless and irritable, and full of unjust and unreasonable -suspicions. For had not the “Master,” as he was known in the community -to which he belonged, said that he had <i>seen</i> the Soul of Lilith, -while he, El-Râmi, had never attained to so beatific an altitude of -vision? Then was it not possible that, notwithstanding his rectitude -and steadfastness of purpose, the “Master,” great and Christ-like in -self-denial though he was, might influence Lilith in some unforeseen -way? Then there was Féraz—Féraz, whose supplications and -protestations had won a smile from the tranced girl, and who therefore -must assuredly have roused in her some faint pleasure and interest. -Such thoughts as these rankled in his mind and gave him no peace—for -they conveyed to him the unpleasing idea that Lilith was not all his -own as he desired her to be,—others had a share in her thoughts. -Could he have nothing entirely to himself? he would demand angrily of -his own inner consciousness—not even this life which he had, as it -were, robbed from death? And an idea, which had at first been the -merest dim suggestion, now deepened into a passionate resolve—he -would <i>make</i> her his own so thoroughly and indissolubly that neither -gods nor devils should snatch her from him. -</p> - -<p> -“Her life is mine!” he said—“And she shall live as long as I please. -Her body shall sleep, ... if I still choose, ... or ... it shall -<i>wake</i>. But whether awake, or sleeping in the flesh, her spirit shall -obey me always—like the satellite of a planet, that disembodied Soul -shall be mine for ever!” -</p> - -<p> -When he spoke thus to himself, he was sitting in his usual -contemplative attitude by the couch where Lilith lay;—he rose up -suddenly and paced the room, drawing back the velvet portière and -setting open the door of the ante-chamber as though he craved for -fresh air. Music sounded through the house, ... it was Féraz singing. -His full pure tenor voice came floating up, bearing with it the words -he sang: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“And neither the angels in heaven above,</p> -<p class="i1">Nor the demons down under the sea,</p> -<p class="i0">Can ever dissever my soul from the soul</p> -<p class="i1">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee!</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“For the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes</p> -<p class="i1">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee,—</p> -<p class="i0">And the moon never beams without bringing me dreams</p> -<p class="i1">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee—</p> -<p class="i0">And so all the night-tide I lie down by the side</p> -<p class="i0">Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,</p> -<p class="i1">In her tomb by the sounding sea!”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -With a shaking hand El-Râmi shut the door more swiftly than he had -opened it, and dragged the heavy portière across it to deaden the -sound of that song!—to keep it out from his ears ... from his heart, -... to stop its passionate vibration from throbbing along his nerves -like creeping fire. ... -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“And so all the night-tide I lie down by the side</p> -<p class="i0">Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride.” ...</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“God!—my God!” he muttered incoherently—“What ails me? ... Am I -going mad that I should dream thus?” -</p> - -<p> -He gazed round the room wildly, his hand still clutching the velvet -portière,—and met the keenly watchful glance of Zaroba. Her hands -were mechanically busy with her thread-work,—but her eyes, black, -piercing and brilliant, were fixed on him steadfastly. Something in -her look compelled his attention,—something in his compelled hers. -They stared across the room at each other, as though a Thought had -sprung between them like an armed soldier with drawn sword, demanding -from each the pass-word to a mystery. In and out, across and across -went the filmy glistening threads in Zaroba’s wrinkled hands, but her -eyes never moved from El-Râmi’s face, and she looked like some weird -sorceress weaving a web of destiny. -</p> - -<p> -“For you were the days of Ashtaroth!” she said in a low, monotonous, -yet curiously thrilling tone—“You are born too late, El-Râmi,—the -youth of the world has departed and the summer seasons of the heart -are known on earth no more. You are born too late—too late!—the -Christ claims all,—the body, the blood, the nerve and the -spirit,—every muscle of His white limbs on the cross must be atoned -for by the dire penance and torture of centuries of men. So that now -even love is a thorn in the flesh and its prick must be paid with a -price,—these are the hours of woe preceding the end. The blood that -runs in your veins, El-Râmi, has sprung from kings and strong rulers -of men,—and the pale faint spirits of this dull day have naught to do -with its colour and glow. And it rebels, O El-Râmi!—as God liveth, -it rebels!—it burns in your heart—the proud, strong heart,—like -ruddy wine in a ruby cup; it rebels, El-Râmi!—it rises to passion as -rise the waves of the sea to the moon, by a force and an impulse in -Nature stronger than yours! Ay, ay!—for you were the days of -Ashtaroth”—and her voice sank into a wailing murmur—“but -now—now—the Christ claims all.” -</p> - -<p> -He heard her as one may hear incoherencies in a nightmare -vision;—only a few weeks ago he would have been angry with her for -what he would then have termed her foolish jargon,—but he was not -angry now. Why should he be angry? he wondered dully—had he time to -even think of anger while thus unnerved by that keen tremor that -quivered through his frame—a tremor he strove in vain to calm? His -hand fell from the curtain,—the sweet distracting song of Poe’s -“Annabel Lee” had ceased,—and he advanced into the room again, his -heart beating painfully still, his head a little drooped as though -with a sense of conscious shame. He moved slowly to where the roses in -the Venetian vase exhaled their odours on the air, and breaking one -off its branch toyed with it aimlessly, letting its pale pink leaves -flutter down one by one on the violet carpet at his feet. Suddenly, as -though he had resolved a doubt and made up his mind to something, he -turned towards Zaroba, who watched him fixedly,—and with a mute -signal bade her leave the apartment. She rose instantly, and crossing -her hands upon her breast made her customary obeisance and -waited,—for he looked at her with a meditative expression which -implied that he had not yet completed his instructions. Presently, and -with some hesitation, he made her another sign—a sign which had the -effect of awakening a blaze of astonishment in her dark sunken eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“No more to-night!” she repeated aloud—“It is your will that I return -here no more to-night?” -</p> - -<p> -He gave a slow but decided gesture of assent,—there was no mistaking -it. -</p> - -<p> -Zaroba paused an instant, and then with a swift noiseless step went to -the couch of Lilith and bent yearningly above that exquisite sleeping -form. -</p> - -<p> -“Star of my heart!” she muttered—“Child whose outward fairness I have -ever loved, unheedful of the soul within,—may there still be strength -enough left in the old gods to bid thee wake!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi caught her words, and a faint smile, proud yet bitter, curved -his delicate lips. -</p> - -<p> -“The old gods or the new—does it matter which?” he mused -vaguely.—“And what is their strength compared with the Will of Man by -which the very elements are conquered and made the slaves of his -service? ‘My Will is God’s Will’ should be every strong man’s motto. -But I—am I strong—or the weakest of the weak? ... and ... shall the -Christ claim all?” -</p> - -<p> -The soft fall of the velvet portière startled him as it dropped -behind the retreating figure of Zaroba—she had left the room, and he -was alone,—alone with Lilith. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch33"> -XXXIII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">He</span> remained quite still, standing near the tall vase that held the -clustered roses,—in his hand he grasped unconsciously the stalk of -the one he had pulled to pieces. He was aware of his own strange -passiveness,—it was a sort of inexplicable inertia which like -temporary paralysis seemed to incapacitate him from any action. It -would have appeared well and natural to him that he should stay there -so, dreamily, with the scented rose-stalk in his hand, for any length -of time. A noise in the outer street roused him a little,—the -whistling, hooting, and laughing of drunken men reeling -homewards,—and, lifting his eyes from their studious observation of -the floor, he sighed deeply. -</p> - -<p> -“That is the way the great majority of men amuse themselves,”—he -mused. “Drink, stupidity, brutality, sensuality—all blatant proofs of -miserable unresisted weakness,—can it be possible that God can care -for such? Could even the pity of Christ pardon such wilful workers of -their own ruin? The pity of Christ, said I?—nay, at times even He was -pitiless. Did He not curse a fig-tree because it was barren?—though -truly we are not told the cause of its barrenness. Of course the -lesson is that Life—the fig-tree—has no right to be barren of -results,—but why curse it, if it is? What is the use of a curse at -any time? And what, may equally be asked, is the use of a blessing? -Neither are heard; the curse is seldom, if ever, wreaked,—and the -blessing, so the sorrowful say, is never granted.” -</p> - -<p> -The noise and the laughter outside died away,—and a deep silence -ensued. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, and noted his own -reflective attitude,—his brooding visage; and studied himself -critically as he would have studied a picture. -</p> - -<p> -“You are no Antinous, my friend”—he said aloud, addressing his own -reflection with some bitterness—“A mere suntanned Oriental with a -pair of eyes in which the light is more of hell than heaven. What -should you do with yourself, frowning at Fate? You are a superb -egoist,—no more.” -</p> - -<p> -As he spoke, the roses in the vase beside him swayed lightly to and -fro, as though a faint wind had fanned them, and their perfume stole -upon the air like the delicate breath of summer wafted from some -distant garden. -</p> - -<p> -There was no window open—and El-Râmi had not stirred, so that no -movement on his part could have shaken the vase,—and yet the roses -quivered on their stalks as if brushed by a bird’s wing. He watched -them with a faint sense of curiosity—but with no desire to discover -why they thus nodded their fair heads to an apparently causeless -vibration. He was struggling with an emotion that threatened to -overwhelm him,—he knew that he was not master of himself,—and -instinctively he kept his face turned away from the tranced Lilith. -</p> - -<p> -“I must not look upon her—I dare not;” he whispered to the -silence—“Not yet—not yet.” -</p> - -<p> -There was a low chair close by, and he dropped into it wearily, -covering his eyes with one hand. He tried to control his thoughts—but -they were rebellious, and ran riot in spite of him. The words of -Zaroba rang in his ears—“For you were the days of Ashtaroth.” The -days of Ashtaroth!—for what had they been renowned? For Jove and the -feasts of love,—for mirth and song and dance—for crowns of flowers, -for shouting of choruses and tinkling of cymbals, for exquisite luxury -and voluptuous pleasures,—for men and women who were not ashamed of -love and took delight in loving;—were there not better, warmer ways -of life in those old times than now—now when cautious and timid souls -make schemes for marriage as they scheme for wealth,—when they -snigger at “love” as though it were some ludicrous defect in mortal -composition, and when real passion of any kind is deemed downright -improper, and not to be spoken of before cold and punctilious society? -</p> - -<p> -“Ay, but the passion is there all the same;”—thought El-Râmi—“Under -the ice burns the fire,—all the fiercer and the more dangerous for -its repression.” -</p> - -<p> -And he still kept his hand over his eyes, thinking. -</p> - -<p> -“The Christ claims all”—had said Zaroba. Nay, what has Christ done -that He should claim all? “He died for us!” cry the preachers. -Well,—others can die also. “He was Divine!” proclaim the churches. We -are all Divine, if we will but let the Divinity in us have way. And -moved by these ideas, El-Râmi rose up and crossed to a niche in the -purple-pavilioned walls of the room, before which hung a loose breadth -of velvet fringed with gold,—this he drew aside, and disclosed a -picture very finely painted, of Christ standing near the sea, -surrounded by His disciples—underneath it were inscribed the -words—“Whom say ye that I am?” -</p> - -<p> -The dignity and beauty of the face and figure were truly marvellous, -the expression of the eyes had something of pride as well as -sweetness, and El-Râmi confronted it as he had confronted it many -times before, with a restless inquisitiveness. -</p> - -<p> -“Whom say ye that I am?” -</p> - -<p> -The painted Christ seemed to audibly ask the question. -</p> - -<p> -“O noble Mystery of a Man, I cannot tell!” exclaimed El-Râmi suddenly -and aloud—“I cannot say who you are, or who you were. A riddle for -all the world to wonder at,—a white Sphinx with a smile -inscrutable,—all the secrets of Egypt are as nothing to your secret, -O simple, pure-souled Nazarene! You, born in miserable plight in -miserable Bethlehem, changed the aspect of the world, altered and -purified the modes of civilisation, and thrilled all life with higher -motives for work than it had ever been dowered with before. All this -in three years’ work, ending in a criminal’s death! Truly, if there -was not something Divine in you, then God Himself is an error!” -</p> - -<p> -The grand face seemed to smile upon him with a deep and solemn pity, -and “Whom say ye that I am?” sounded in his ears as though it were -spoken by some one in the room. -</p> - -<p> -“I must be getting nervous;”—he muttered, drawing the curtain softly -over the picture again, and looking uneasily round about him, “I think -I cannot be much more than the weakest of men,—after all.” -</p> - -<p> -A faint tremor seized him as he turned slowly but resolutely round -towards the couch of Lilith, and let his eyes rest on her enchanting -loveliness. Step by step he drew nearer and nearer till he bent -closely over her, but he did not call her by name. A loose mass of her -hair lay close to his arm,—with an impetuous suddenness he gathered -it in his hands and kissed it. -</p> - -<p> -“A sheaf of sunbeams!”—he whispered, his lips burning as they -caressed the shining wealth of silken curls—“A golden web in which -kisses might be caught and killed! Ah Heaven, have pity on me!” and he -sank by the couch, stifling his words beneath his breath—“If I love -this girl—if all this mad tumult in my soul is Love—let her never -know it, O merciful Fates!—or she is lost, and so am I. Let me be -bound,—let her be free,—let me fight down my weakness, but let her -never know that I am weak, or I shall lose her long obedience. No, no! -I will not summon her to me now—it is best she should be -absent,—this body of hers, this fair fine casket of her spirit is but -a dead thing when that spirit is elsewhere. She cannot hear me,—she -does not see me—no, not even when I lay this hand—this ‘shadow of a -hand,’ as she once called it, here, to quell my foolish murmurings.” -</p> - -<p> -And, lifting Lilith’s hand as he spoke, he pressed its roseate palm -against his lips,—then on his forehead. A strange sense of relief and -peace came upon him with the touch of those delicate fingers—it was -as though a cool wind blew, bringing freshness from some quiet -mountain lake or river. Silently he knelt,—and presently, somewhat -calmed, lifted his eyes again to look at Lilith,—she smiled in her -deep trance—she was the very picture of some happy angel sleeping. -His arm sank in the soft satin coverlet as he laid back the little -hand he held upon her breast,—and with eager scrutiny he noted every -tint and every line in her exquisite face;—the lovely long lashes -that swept the blush-rose of her cheeks,—the rounded chin, dimpled in -its curve,—the full white throat, the perfect outline of the whole -fair figure as it rested like a branched lily in a bed of snow,—and, -as he looked, he realised that all this beauty was his—his, if he -chose to take Love and let Wisdom go. If he chose to resign the chance -of increasing his knowledge of the supernatural,—if he were content -to accept earth for what it is, and heaven for what it may be, Lilith, -the bodily incarnation of loveliness, purity and perfect womanhood, -was his—his only. He grew dizzy at the thought,—then by an effort -conquered the longing of his heart. He remembered what he had sworn to -do,—to discover the one great secret before he seized the joy that -tempted him,—to prove the actual, individual, conscious existence of -the Being that is said to occupy a temporary habitation in flesh. He -knew and he saw the body of Lilith,—he must know, and he must <i>see</i> -her Soul. And while he leaned above her couch, entranced, a sudden -strain of music echoed through the stillness,—music solemn and sweet, -that stirred the air into rhythmic vibrations as of slow and sacred -psalmody. He listened, perplexed but not afraid,—he was not afraid of -anything in earth or heaven save—himself. He knew that man has his -worst enemy in his own Ego,—beyond that, there is very little in life -that need give cause for alarm. He had, till now, been able to -practise the stoical philosophy of an Epictetus while engaged in -researches that would have puzzled the brain of a Plato,—but his -philosophy was just now at fault and his self-possession gone to the -four winds of heaven—and why? He knew not—but he was certain the -fault lay in himself, and not in others. Of an arrogant temper and a -self-reliant haughty disposition he had none of that low cowardice -which people are guilty of, who, finding themselves in a dilemma, cast -the blame at once on others, or on “circumstances” which, after all, -were most probably of their own creating. And the strange music that -ebbed and flowed in sonorous pulsations through the air around him -troubled him not at all,—he attributed it at once to something or -other that was out of order in his own mental perceptions. He knew -how, in certain conditions of the brain, some infinitesimal trifle -gone wrong in the aural nerves will persuade one that trumpets are -blowing, violins playing, birds singing or bells ringing in the -distance,—just as a little disorder of the visual organs will help to -convince one of apparitions. He knew how to cast a “glamour” better -than any so-called “theosophist” in full practice of his -trickery,—and, being thus perfectly aware how the human sense can be -deceived, listened to the harmonious sounds he heard with speculative -interest, wondering how long this “fancy” of his would last. Much more -startled was he when amid the rising and falling of the mysterious -melody he heard the voice of Lilith saying softly in her usual -manner— -</p> - -<p> -“I am here!” -</p> - -<p> -His heart beat rapidly, and he rose slowly from his kneeling position -by her side. “I did not call you, Lilith!” he said tremblingly. -</p> - -<p> -“No!” and her sweet lips smiled—“you did not call, ... I came!” -</p> - -<p> -“Why did you come?” he asked, still faintly. -</p> - -<p> -“For my own joy and yours!” she answered in thrilling tones—“Sweeter -than all the heavens is Love, and Love is here!” -</p> - -<p> -An icy cold crept through him as he heard the rapture in her -accents,—such rapture!—like that of a lark singing in the sunlight -on a fresh morning of May. And like the dim sound of a funeral bell -came the words of the monk, tolling solemnly across his memory, in -spite of his efforts to forget them, “With Lilith’s love comes -Lilith’s freedom.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no!” he muttered within himself—“It cannot be,—it shall not -be!—she is mine, mine only. Her fate is in my hands; if there be -justice in Heaven, who else has so much right to her body or her soul -as I?” -</p> - -<p> -And he stood, gazing irresolutely at the girl, who stirred restlessly -and flung her white arms upward on her pillows, while the music he had -heard suddenly ceased. He dared not speak,—he was afraid to express -any desire or impose any command upon this “fine sprite” which had for -six years obeyed him, but which might now, for all he could tell, be -fluttering vagrantly on the glittering confines of realms far beyond -his ken. -</p> - -<p> -Her lips moved,—and presently she spoke again. -</p> - -<p> -“Wonderful are the ways of Divine Law!” she murmured softly—“and -infinite are the changes it works among its creatures! An old man, -despised and poor, by friends rejected, perplexed in mind, but pure in -soul; such Was the Spirit that now Is. Passing me flame-like on its -swift way heavenward,—saved and uplifted, not by Wisdom, but by -Love.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi listened, awed and puzzled. Her words surely seemed to bear -some reference to Kremlin? -</p> - -<p> -“Of the knowledge of the stars and the measuring of light there is -more than enough in the Universe;”—went on Lilith dreamily—“but of -faithful love, such as keeps an Angel for ever by one’s side, there is -little; therefore the Angels on earth are few.” -</p> - -<p> -He could no longer restrain his curiosity. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you speak of one who is dead, Lilith?” he asked—“One whom I -knew——” -</p> - -<p> -“I speak of one who is living,”—she replied—“and one whom you -<i>know</i>. For none are dead; and Knowledge has no Past, but is all -Present.” -</p> - -<p> -Her voice sank into silence. El-Râmi bent above her, studying her -countenance earnestly—her lashes trembled as though the eyelids were -about to open,—but the tremor passed and they remained shut. How -lovely she looked!—how more than lovely! -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith!” he whispered, suddenly oblivious of all his former -forebodings, and unconscious of the eager passion vibrating in his -tone—“Sweet Lilith!” -</p> - -<p> -She turned slightly towards him, and, lifting her arms from their -indolently graceful position on the pillows, she clasped her hands -high above her head in apparent supplication. -</p> - -<p> -“Love me!” she cried, with such a thrill in her accent that it rang -through the room like a note of music—“Oh my Belovëd, love me!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi grew faint and dizzy,—his thoughts were all in a whirl, ... -was he made of marble or ice that he should not respond? Scarcely -aware of what he did, he took her clasped hands in his own. -</p> - -<p> -“And do I not, Lilith?” he murmured, half anguished, half -entranced—“Do I not love you?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no!” said Lilith with passionate emphasis—“Not me,—not me, -Myself! Oh my Belovëd! love Me, not my Shadow!” -</p> - -<p> -He loosened her hands, and recoiled, awed and perplexed. Her appeal -struck at the core of all his doubts,—and for one moment he was -disposed to believe in the actual truth of the Immortal Soul without -those “proofs” for which he constantly searched,—the next he rallied -himself on his folly and weakness. He dared not trust himself to -answer her, so he was silent,—but she soon spoke again with such -convincing earnestness of tone that almost ... almost he believed—but -not quite. -</p> - -<p> -“To love the Seeming and not the Real,”—she said—“is the curse of -all sad Humanity. It is the glamour of the air,—the barrier between -Earth and Heaven. The Body is the Shadow—the Soul is the Substance. -The Reflection I cast on Earth’s surface for a little space is but a -Reflection only,—it is not Me:—I am beyond it!” -</p> - -<p> -For a moment El-Râmi stood irresolute,—then gathering up his -scattered thoughts, he began to try and resolve them into order and -connection. Surely the time was ripe for his great Experiment?—and, -as he considered this, his nerves grew more steady,—his self-reliance -returned—all his devotion to scientific research pressed back its -claim upon his mind,—if he were to fail now, he thought, after all -his patience and study,—fail to obtain any true insight into the -spiritual side of humanity, would he not be ashamed, ay, and degraded -in his own eyes? He resolved to end all his torture of pain and doubt -and disquietude,—and, sitting on the edge of Lilith’s couch, he drew -her delicate hands down from their uplifted position, and laid them -one above the other cross-wise on his own breast. -</p> - -<p> -“Then you must teach me, Lilith”—he said softly and with tender -persuasiveness—“you must teach me to know you. If I see but your -Reflection here,—let me behold your Reality. Let me love you as you -are, if now I only love you as you seem. Show yourself to me in all -your spiritual loveliness, Lilith!—it may be I shall die of the -glory,—or—if there is no death as you say,—I shall not die, but -simply pass away into the light which gives you life. Lift the veil -that is between us, Lilith, and let me see you face to face. If this -that <i>seems</i> you”—and he pressed the little hands he held—“is -naught, let me realise the nothingness of so much beauty beside the -greater beauty that engenders it. Come to me as you <i>are</i>, -Lilith!—come!” -</p> - -<p> -As he spoke, his heart beat fast with a nervous thrill of expectancy; -what would she answer? ... what would she do? He could not take his -eyes from her face—he half fancied he should see some change there; -for the moment he even thought it possible that she might transform -herself into some surpassing Being, which, like the gods of the Greek -mythology, should consume by its flame-like splendour whatever of -mortality dared to look upon it. But she remained unaltered, and -sculpturally calm,—only her breathing seemed a little quicker, and -the hands that he held trembled against his breast. -</p> - -<p> -Her next words, however, startled him— -</p> - -<p> -“I will come!” she said, and a faint sigh escaped her lips—“Be ready -for me. Pray!—pray for the blessing of Christ,—for, if Christ be -with us, all is well.” -</p> - -<p> -At this, his brow clouded,—his eyes drooped gloomily. -</p> - -<p> -“Christ!” he muttered more to himself than to her—“What is He to me? -Who is He that He should be with us?” -</p> - -<p> -“This world’s rescue and all worlds’ glory!” -</p> - -<p> -The answer rang out like a silver clarion, with something full and -triumphant in the sound, as though not only Lilith’s voice had uttered -it, but other voices had joined in a chorus. At the same moment, her -hands moved, as if in an effort to escape from his hold. But he held -them closely in a jealous and masterful grasp. -</p> - -<p> -“When will you come to me, Lilith?” he demanded in low but eager -accents—“When shall I see you and know you as Lilith? ... <i>my</i> -Lilith, my own for ever?” -</p> - -<p> -“God’s Lilith—God’s own for ever!” murmured Lilith dreamily, and then -was silent. -</p> - -<p> -An angry sense of rebellion began to burn in El-Râmi’s mind. -Summoning up all the force of his iron will, he unclasped her hands -and laid them back on each side of her, and placed his own hand on her -breast, just where the ruby talisman shone and glowed. -</p> - -<p> -“Answer me, Lilith!” he said, with something of the old sternness -which he had used to employ with her on former occasions—“When will -you come to me?” -</p> - -<p> -Her limbs trembled violently as though some inward cold convulsed her, -and her answer came slowly, though clearly— -</p> - -<p> -“When you are ready.” -</p> - -<p> -“I am ready now!” he cried recklessly. -</p> - -<p> -“No—no!” she murmured, her voice growing fainter and fainter—“Not -yet ... not yet! Love is not strong enough, high enough, pure enough. -Wait, watch and pray. When the hour has come, a sign will be -given—but O my Belovëd, if you would know me, love Me—love Me! not -my Shadow!” -</p> - -<p> -A pale hue fell on her face, robbing it of its delicate -tint,—El-Râmi knew what that pallor indicated. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! Lilith!” he exclaimed, “why leave me thus if you love me? -Stay with me yet a little!” -</p> - -<p> -But Lilith—or rather the strange Spirit that made the body of Lilith -speak,—was gone. And all that night not another sound, either of -music or speech, stirred the silence of the room. Dawn came, misty and -gray, and found the proud El-Râmi kneeling before the unveiled -picture of the Christ,—not praying, for he could not bring himself -down to the necessary humiliation for prayer,—but simply wondering -vaguely as to what <i>could</i> be and what <i>might</i> be the one positive -reply to that question propounded of old— -</p> - -<p> -“Whom Say Ye That I Am?” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch34"> -XXXIV. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Of</span> what avail is it to propound questions that no one can answer? Of -what use is it to attempt to solve the mystery of life which must for -ever remain mysterious? Thus may the intelligent critic ask, and, in -asking, may declare that the experiments, researches, and anxieties of -El-Râmi, together with El-Râmi himself, are mistaken conceptions all -round. But it is necessary to remind the intelligent critic that the -eager desire of El-Râmi to prove what appears unprovable is by no -means an uncommon phase of human nature,—it is in fact the very -key-note and pulse of the present time. Every living creature who is -not too stunned by misery for thought craves to know positively -whether the Soul,—the Immortal, Individual Ego, be Fable or Fact. -Never more than in this, our own period, did people search with such -unabated feverish yearning into the things that seem -supernatural;—never were there bitterer pangs of recoil and -disappointment when trickery and imposture are found to have even -temporarily passed for truth. If the deepest feeling in every human -heart to-day were suddenly given voice, the shout “Excelsior!” would -rend the air in mighty chorus. For we know all the old earth -stories;—of love, of war, of adventure, of wealth, we know pretty -well the beginning and the end,—we read in our histories of nations -that were, but now are not, and we feel that we shall in due time go -the same way with them,—that the wheel of Destiny spins on in the -same round always, and that nothing—nothing can alter its relentless -and monotonous course. We tread in the dust and among the fallen -columns of great cities and we vaguely wonder if the spirits of the -men that built them are indeed no more,—we gaze on the glorious pile -of the Duomo at Milan and think of the brain that first devised and -planned its majestic proportions, and ask ourselves—Is it possible -that this, the creation, should be Here, and its creator Nowhere? -Would such an arrangement be reasonable or just? And so it happens -that when the wielders of the pen essay to tell us of wars, of -shipwrecks, of hair-breadth escapes from danger, of love and politics -and society, we read their pages with merely transitory pleasure and -frequent indifference, but when they touch upon subjects beyond -earthly experience,—when they attempt, however feebly, to lift our -inspirations to the possibilities of the Unseen, then we give them our -eager attention and almost passionate interest. Critics look upon this -tendency as morbid, unwholesome and pernicious; but nevertheless the -tendency is there,—the demand for “Light! more light!” is in the very -blood and brain of the people. It would seem as though this world has -grown too narrow for the aspirations of its inhabitants;—and some of -us instinctively feel that we are on the brink of strange discoveries -respecting the powers unearthly, whether for good or evil we dare not -presume to guess. The nonsensical tenets of “Theosophy” would not gain -ground with a single individual man or woman were not this feeling -very strong among many,—the tricky “mediums” and “spiritualists” -would not have a chance of earning a subsistence out of the -gullibility of their dupes, and the preachers of new creeds and new -forms would obtain no vestige of attention if it were not for the fact -that there is a very general impression all over the world that the -time is ripe for a clearer revelation of God and the things of God -than we have ever had before. “Give us something that will endure!” is -the exclamation of weary humanity—“The things we have, pass; and, by -reason of their ephemeral nature, are worthless. Give us what we can -keep and call our own for ever!” This is why we try and test all -things that <i>appear</i> to give proof of the super-sensual element in -man,—and when we find ourselves deceived by impostors and conjurers -our disgust and disappointment are too bitter to ever find vent in -words. The happiest are those who, in the shifting up and down of -faiths and formulas, ever cling steadfastly to the one pure example of -embodied Divinity in Manhood as seen in Christ. When we reject Christ, -we reject the Gospel of Love and Universal Brotherhood, without which -the ultimate perfection and progress of the world must ever remain -impossible. -</p> - -<p> -A few random thoughts such as these occurred to El-Râmi now and then -as he lived his life from day to day in perpetual expectation of the -“sign” promised by Lilith, which as yet was not forthcoming. He -believed she would keep her word, and that the “sign” whatever it was -would be unmistakable; and,—as before stated—this was the nearest -approach to actual faith he had ever known. His was a nature which was -originally disposed to faith, but which had persistently fought with -its own inclination till that inclination had been conquered. He had -been able to prove as purely natural much that had <i>seemed</i> -supernatural, and he now viewed everything from two -points—Possibility and Impossibility. His various confusions and -perplexities, however, generally arose from the frequent discovery he -made that what he had once thought the Impossible suddenly became, -through some small chance clue, the Possible. So many times had this -occurred that he often caught himself wondering whether anything in -very truth could be strictly declared as “impossible.” And yet, ... -with the body of Lilith under his observation for six years, and an -absolute ignorance as to <i>how</i> her intelligence had developed, or -<i>where</i> she obtained the power to discourse with him as she did, he -always had the lurking dread that her utterances might be the result -of <i>his own brain unconsciously working upon hers</i>, and that there was -no “soul” or “spirit” in the matter. This, too, in spite of the fact -that she had actually given him a concise description of certain -planets, their laws, their government, and their inhabitants, -concerning which <i>he</i> could know nothing,—and that she spoke with a -sure conviction of the existence of a personal God, an idea that was -entirely unacceptable to <i>his</i> nature. He was at a loss to explain her -“separated consciousness” in any scientific way, and, afraid of -himself lest he should believe too easily, he encouraged the presence -of every doubt in his mind, rather than give entrance to more than the -palest glimmer of faith. -</p> - -<p> -And so time went on, and May passed into June, and June deepened into -its meridian glow of bloom and sunlight, and he remained shut up -within the four walls of his house, seeing no one, and displaying a -total indifference to the fact that the “season” with all its bitter -froth and frivolity was seething on in London in its usual monotonous -manner. Unlike pretenders to “spiritualistic” powers, he had no -inclination for the society of the rich and great,—“titled” people -had no attraction for him save in so far as they were cultured, witty, -or amiable,—“position” in the world was a very miserable trifle in -his opinion, and, though many a gorgeous flunkied carriage at this -time found its way into the unfashionable square where he had his -domicile, no visitors were admitted to see him,—and “too busy to -receive any one” was the formula with which young Féraz dismissed any -would-be intruder. Yet Féraz himself wondered all the while how it -was that, as a matter of fact, El-Râmi seemed to be just now less -absorbed in actual study than he had ever been in his whole life. He -read no books save the old Arabic vellum-bound volume which held the -explanatory key to so many curious phenomena palmed off as “spiritual -miracles” by the theosophists, and he wrote a good deal,—but he -answered no letters, accepted no invitations, manifested no wish to -leave the house even for an hour’s stroll, and seemed mentally -engrossed by some great secret subject of meditation. He was uniformly -kind to Féraz, exacting no duties from him save those prompted by -interest and affection,—he was marvellously gentle too with Zaroba, -who, agitated, restless and perplexed as to his ultimate intentions -with respect to the beautiful Lilith, was vaguely uneasy and -melancholy, though she deemed it wisest to perform all his commands -with exactitude, and, for the present, to hold her peace. She had -expected something—though she knew not what—from his last interview -with her beautiful charge—but all was unchanged,—Lilith slept on, -and the cherished wish of Zaroba’s heart, that she should wake, seemed -as far off realisation as ever. Day after day passed, and El-Râmi -lived like a hermit amidst the roar and traffic of mighty -London,—watching Lilith for long and anxious hours, but never -venturing to call her down to him from wherever she might -be,—waiting, waiting for <i>her</i> summons, and content for once to sink -himself in the thought of <i>her</i> identity. All his ambitions were now -centred on the one great object, ... to see the Soul, <i>as</i> it is, <i>if</i> -it is indeed existent, conscious and individual. For, as he argued, -what is the use of a “Soul” whose capacities we are not permitted to -understand?—and if it be no more to us than the intelligent faculty -of brain? The chief proof of a possible something behind Man’s inner -consciousness was, he considered, the quality of Discontent, and, -primarily, because Discontent is so universal. No one is contented in -all the world from end to end. From the powerful Emperor on his throne -to the whining beggar in the street, all chafe under the goading prick -of the great Necessity,—a something better,—a something lasting. Why -should this resonant key-note of Discontent be perpetually resounding -through space, if this life is all? No amount of philosophy or -argument can argue away Discontent—it is a god-like disquietude ever -fermenting changes among us, ever propounding new suggestions for -happiness, ever restless, never satisfied. And El-Râmi would ask -himself—Is Discontent the voice of the Soul?—not only the Universal -Soul of things, but the Soul of each individual? Then, if individual, -why should not the individual be made manifest, if manifestation be -possible? And if not possible, why should we be called upon to believe -in what cannot be manifested? -</p> - -<p> -Thus he argued, not altogether unwisely; he had studied profoundly all -the divers conflicting theories of religion, and would at one time -have become an obstinately confirmed Positivist, had it not been for -the fact that the further his researches led him the more he became -aware that there was nothing positive,—that is to say, nothing so -apparently fixed and unalterable that it might not, under different -conditions, prove capable of change. Perhaps there is no better test -example of this truth than the ordinary substance known as iron. We -use in common parlance unthinkingly the phrase “as hard as -iron”—while to the smith and engineer, who mould and twist it in -every form, it proves itself soft and malleable as wax. Again, to the -surface observer, it might and does seem an incombustible metal,—the -chemist knows it will burn with the utmost fury. How then form a -<i>universal</i> decision as to its various capabilities when it has so -many variations of use all in such contrary directions? The same -example, modified or enlarged, will be found to apply to all things, -wherefore the word “Positivism” seems out of place in merely mortal -language. God may be “positive,” but we and our surroundings have no -such absolute quality. -</p> - -<p> -During this period of El-Râmi’s self-elected seclusion and meditation -his young brother Féraz was very happy. He was in the midst of -writing a poem which he fondly fancied might perhaps—only -perhaps—find a publisher to take it and launch it on its own -merits,—it is the privilege of youth to be over-sanguine. Then, too, -his brain was filled with new musical ideas,—and many an evening’s -hour he beguiled away by delicious improvisations on the piano, or -exquisite songs to the mandoline. El-Râmi, when he was not upstairs -keeping anxious vigil by the tranced Lilith’s side, would sit in his -chair, leaning back with half-closed eyes, listening to the entrancing -melodies like another Saul to a new David, soothed by the sweetness of -the sounds he heard, yet conscious that he took too deep and ardent a -pleasure in hearing, when the songs Féraz chose were of love. One -night Féraz elected to sing the wild and beautiful “Canticle of Love” -written by the late Lord Lytton, when as “Owen Meredith” he promised -to be one of the greatest poets of our century, and who would have -fulfilled more than that promise if diplomacy had not claimed his -brilliant intellectual gifts for the service of his country,—a -country which yet deplores his untimely loss. But no fatality had as -yet threatened that gallant and noble life in the days when Féraz -smote the chords of his mandoline and sang: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“I once heard an angel by night in the sky</p> -<p class="i1">Singing softly a song to a deep golden lute;</p> -<p class="i0">The pole-star, the seven little planets and I</p> -<p class="i1">To the song that he sang listened mute,</p> -<p class="i0">For the song that he sang was so strange and so sweet,</p> -<p class="i1">And so tender the tones of his lute’s golden strings,</p> -<p class="i0">That the seraphs of heaven sat hush’d at his feet</p> -<p class="i1">And folded their heads in their wings.</p> -<p class="i0">And the song that he sang to the seraphs up there</p> -<p class="i0">Is called ‘Love’! But the words ... I had heard them elsewhere.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“For when I was last in the nethermost Hell,</p> -<p class="i1">On a rock ’mid the sulphurous surges I heard</p> -<p class="i0">A pale spirit sing to a wild hollow shell;</p> -<p class="i1">And his song was the same, every word,</p> -<p class="i0">And so sad was his singing, all Hell to the sound</p> -<p class="i1">Moaned, and wailing, complained like a monster in pain</p> -<p class="i0">While the fiends hovered near o’er the dismal profound</p> -<p class="i1">With their black wings weighed down by the strain;</p> -<p class="i0">And the song that was sung to the Lost Ones down there</p> -<p class="i0">Is called ‘Love’! But the spirit that sang was Despair!”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -The strings of the mandoline quivered mournfully in tune with the -passionate beauty of the verse, and from El-Râmi’s lips there came -involuntarily a deep and bitter sigh. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz ceased playing and looked at him. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” he asked anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing!” replied his brother in a tranquil voice—“What should there -be? Only the poem is very beautiful, and out of the common,—though, -to me, terribly suggestive of—a mistake somewhere in creation. Love -to the Saved—Love to the Lost!—naturally it would have different -aspects,—but it is an anomaly—Love, to be true to its name, should -have no ‘lost’ ones in its chronicle.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz was silent. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you believe”—continued El-Râmi—“that there is a ‘nethermost -Hell’?—a place or a state of mind resembling that ‘rock ’mid the -sulphurous surges’?” -</p> - -<p> -“I should imagine,” replied Féraz with some diffidence, “that there -must be a condition in which we are bound to look back and see where -we were wrong,—a condition, too, in which we have time to be -sorry——” -</p> - -<p> -“Unfair and unreasonable!” exclaimed his brother hotly. “For, suppose -we did not <i>know</i> we were wrong? We are left absolutely without -guidance in this world to do as we like.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do not think you can quite say that”—remonstrated Féraz -gently—“We <i>do</i> know when we are wrong—generally; some instinct -tells us so—and, while we have the book of Nature, we are not left -without guidance. As for looking back and seeing our former mistakes, -I think that is unquestionable,—for as I grow older I begin to see -where I failed in my former life, and how I deserved to lose my -star-kingdom.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked impatient. -</p> - -<p> -“You are a dreamer”—he said decisively—“and your star-kingdom is a -dream also. You cannot tell me truthfully that you remember anything -of a former existence?” -</p> - -<p> -“I am beginning to remember,” said Féraz steadily. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear boy, anybody but myself hearing you would say you were -mad—hopelessly mad!” -</p> - -<p> -“They would be at perfect liberty to say so”—and Féraz smiled a -little—“Every one is free to have his own opinion—I have mine. My -star exists; and I once existed in it—so did you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I know nothing about it then,” declared El-Râmi—“I have -forgotten it utterly.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no! You think you have forgotten”—said Féraz mildly—“But the -truth is, your very knowledge of science and other things is -only—<i>memory</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi moved in his chair impatiently. -</p> - -<p> -“Let us not argue;”—he said—“We shall never agree. Sing to me -again!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz thought a moment, and then laid aside his mandoline and went to -the piano, where he played a rushing rapid accompaniment like the -sound of the wind among trees, and sang the following: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“Winds of the mountain, mingle with my crying,</p> -<p class="i0">Clouds of the tempest, flee as I am flying,</p> -<p class="i0">Gods of the cloudland, Christus and Apollo,</p> -<p class="i4">Follow, O follow!</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“Through the dark valleys, up the misty mountains,</p> -<p class="i0">Over the black wastes, past the gleaming fountains,</p> -<p class="i0">Praying not, hoping not, resting nor abiding,</p> -<p class="i4">Lo, I am riding!</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“Clangour and anger of elements are round me,</p> -<p class="i0">Torture has clasped me, cruelty has crown’d me,</p> -<p class="i0">Sorrow awaits me, Death is waiting with her,</p> -<p class="i4">Fast speed I thither.</p> - -<p class="spacer"> -* * * * * * -</p> - -<p class="i0">“Gods of the storm-cloud, drifting darkly yonder,</p> -<p class="i0">Point fiery hands and mock me as I wander;</p> -<p class="i0">Gods of the forest glimmer out upon me,</p> -<p class="i4">Shrink back and shun me.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“Gods, let them follow!—gods, for I defy them!</p> -<p class="i0">They call me, mock me, but I gallop by them;</p> -<p class="i0">If they would find me, touch me, whisper to me,</p> -<p class="i4">Let them pursue me!”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -He was interrupted in the song by a smothered cry from El-Râmi, and -looking round, startled, he saw his brother standing up and staring at -him with something of mingled fear and horror. He came to an abrupt -stop, his hands resting on the piano-keys. -</p> - -<p> -“Go on, go on!” cried El-Râmi irritably. “What wild chant of the gods -and men have you there? Is it your own?” -</p> - -<p> -“Mine!” echoed Féraz—“No indeed! Why? Do you not like it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course, of course I like it;”—said El-Râmi, sitting down again, -angry with himself for his own emotion—“Is there more of it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, but I need not finish it,”—and Féraz made as though he would -rise from the piano. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi suddenly began to laugh. -</p> - -<p> -“Go on, I tell you, Féraz”—he said carelessly—“There is a tempest -of agitation in the words and in your music that leaves one hurried -and breathless, but the sensation is not unpleasant,—especially when -one is prepared, ... go on!—I want to hear the end of this ... -this—defiance.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked at him to see if he were in earnest, and, perceiving he -had settled down to give his whole attention to the rest of the -ballad, he resumed his playing, and again the rush of the music filled -the room. -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“Faster, O faster! Darker and more dreary</p> -<p class="i0">Groweth the pathway, yet I am not weary—</p> -<p class="i0">Gods, I defy them! gods, I can unmake them,</p> -<p class="i4">Bruise them and break them!</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“White steed of wonder with thy feet of thunder,</p> -<p class="i0">Find out their temples, tread their high-priests under—</p> -<p class="i0">Leave them behind thee—if their gods speed after,</p> -<p class="i4">Mock them with laughter.</p> - -<p class="spacer"> -* * * * * * -</p> - -<p class="i0">“Shall a god grieve me? shall a phantom win me?</p> -<p class="i0">Nay!—by the wild wind around and o’er and in me—</p> -<p class="i0">Be his name Vishnu, Christus or Apollo—</p> -<p class="i4">Let the god follow!</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“Clangour and anger of elements are round me,</p> -<p class="i0">Torture has clasped me, cruelty has crown’d me,</p> -<p class="i0">Sorrow awaits me, Death is waiting with her,</p> -<p class="i4">Fast speed I thither!”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -The music ceased abruptly with a quick clash as of jangling -bells,—and Féraz rose from the piano. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi was sitting quite still. -</p> - -<p> -“A mad outburst!” he remarked presently, seeing that his young brother -waited for him to speak—“<i>Do you believe it?</i>” -</p> - -<p> -“Believe what?” asked Féraz, a little surprised. -</p> - -<p> -“This——” and El-Râmi quoted slowly— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“‘Shall a god grieve me? shall a phantom win me?</p> -<p class="i0">Nay!—by the wild wind around and o’er and in me—</p> -<p class="i0">Be his name Vishnu, Christus or Apollo—</p> -<p class="i4">Let the god follow!’</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“Do you think”—he continued, “that in the matter of life’s leadership -the ‘god’ should follow, or we the god?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz lifted his delicately-marked eyebrows in amazement. -</p> - -<p> -“What an odd question!” he said—“The song is <i>only</i> a song,—part of -a long epic poem. And we do not receive a mere poem as a gospel. And, -if you speak of life’s leadership, it is devoutly to be hoped that God -not only leads but rules us all.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why should you hope it?” asked El-Râmi gloomily—“Myself, I fear -it!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz came to his side and rested one hand affectionately on his arm. -</p> - -<p> -“You are worried and out of sorts, my brother,”—he said gently—“Why -do you not seek some change from so much indoor life? You do not even -get the advantages I have of going to and fro on the household -business. I breathe the fresh air every day,—surely it is necessary -for you also?” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear boy, I am perfectly well”—and El-Râmi regarded him -steadily—“Why should you doubt it? I am only—a little tired. Poor -human nature cannot always escape fatigue.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz said no more,—but there was a certain strangeness in his -brother’s manner that filled him with an indefinable uneasiness. In -his own quiet fashion he strove to distract El-Râmi’s mind from the -persistent fixity of whatever unknown purpose seemed to so -mysteriously engross him,—and whenever they were together at meals or -at other hours of the day he talked in as light and desultory a way as -possible on all sorts of different topics in the hope of awakening his -brother’s interest more keenly in external affairs. He read much and -thought more, and was a really brilliant conversationalist when he -chose, in spite of his dreamy fancies—but he was obliged to admit to -himself that his affectionate endeavours met with very slight success. -True, El-Râmi <i>appeared</i> to give his attention to all that was said, -but it was only an appearance,—and Féraz saw plainly enough that he -was not really moved to any sort of feeling respecting the ways and -doings of the outer world. And when, one morning, Féraz read aloud -the account of the marriage of Sir Frederick Vaughan, Bart., with -Idina, only daughter of Jabez Chester of New York, he only smiled -indifferently and said nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“We were invited to that wedding;”—commented Féraz. -</p> - -<p> -“Were we?” El-Râmi shrugged his shoulders and seemed totally -oblivious of the fact. -</p> - -<p> -“Why of course we were”—went on Féraz cheerfully—“And at your -bidding I opened and read the letter Sir Frederick wrote you, which -said that as you had prophesied the marriage he would take it very -kindly if you would attend in person the formal fulfilment of your -prophecy. And all you did in reply was to send a curt refusal on plea -of other engagements. Do you think that was quite amiable on your -part?” -</p> - -<p> -“Fortunately for me I am not called upon to be amiable;”—said -El-Râmi, beginning to pace slowly up and down the room—“I want no -favours from society, so I need not smile to order. That is one of the -chief privileges of complete independence. Fancy having to grin and -lie and skulk and propitiate people all one’s days!—I could not -endure it,—but most men can—and do!” -</p> - -<p> -“Besides”—he added after a pause—“I cannot look on with patience at -the marriage of fools. Vaughan is a fool, and his baronetage will -scarcely pass for wisdom,—the little Chester girl is also a -fool,—and I can see exactly what they will become in the course of a -few years.” -</p> - -<p> -“Describe them, <i>in futuro</i>!” laughed Féraz. -</p> - -<p> -“Well—the man will be ‘turfy’; the woman, a blind slave to her -dressmaker. That is all. There can be nothing more. They will never do -any good or any harm—they are simply—nonentities. These are the sort -of folk that make me doubt the immortal soul,—for Vaughan is less -‘spiritual’ than a well-bred dog, and little Chester less mentally -gifted than a well-instructed mouse.” -</p> - -<p> -“Severe!”—commented Féraz, smiling—“But, man or woman,—mouse or -dog, I suppose they are quite happy just now?” -</p> - -<p> -“Happy?” echoed El-Râmi satirically—“Well—I dare say they -are,—with the only sort of happiness their intelligences can grasp. -She is happy because she is now ‘my lady’ and because she was able to -wear a wedding-gown of marvellous make and cost, to trail and rustle -and sweep after her little person up to God’s altar with, as though -she sought to astonish the Almighty, before whom she took her vows, -with the exuberance of her millinery. He is happy because his debts -are paid out of old Jabez Chester’s millions. There the ‘happiness’ -ends. A couple of months is sufficient to rub the bloom off such -wedlock.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you really prophesied the marriage?” queried Féraz. -</p> - -<p> -“It was easy enough”—replied his brother carelessly—“Given two -uninstructed, unthinking bipeds of opposite sexes—the male with -debts, the female with dollars, and an urbanely obstinate schemer to -pull them together like Lord Melthorpe, and the thing is done. Half -the marriages in London are made up like that,—and of the after-lives -of those so wedded, ‘there needs no ghost from the grave’ to tell -us,—the divorce courts give every information.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” exclaimed Féraz quickly—“That reminds me,—do you know I saw -something in the evening paper last night that might have interested -you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Really! You surprise me!” and El-Râmi laughed—“That is strange -indeed, for papers of all sorts, whether morning or evening, are to me -the dullest and worst-written literature in the world.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, for literature one does not go to them”—answered Féraz. “But -this was a paragraph about a man who came here not very long ago to -see you—a clergyman. He is up as a co-respondent in some very -scandalous divorce case. I did not read it all—I only saw that his -Bishop had caused him to be ‘unfrocked,’ whatever that means—I -suppose he is expelled from the ministry?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. ‘Unfrocked’ means literally a stripping-off of clerical -dignity,” said El-Râmi. “But, if it is the man who came here, he was -always naked in that respect. Francis Anstruther was his name?” -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly—that is the man. He is disgraced for life, and seems to be -one of the most consummate scoundrels that ever lived. He has deserted -his wife and eight children...” -</p> - -<p> -“Spare me and yourself the details!” and El-Râmi gave an expressively -contemptuous gesture—“I know all about him and told him what I knew -when he came here. But he’ll do very well yet—he’ll get on capitally -in spite of his disgrace.” -</p> - -<p> -“How is that possible?” exclaimed Féraz. -</p> - -<p> -“Easily! He can ‘boom’ himself as a new ‘General’ Booth, or he can -become a ‘Colonel’ under Booth’s orders—as long as people support -Booth with money. Or he can go to America or Australia and start a new -creed—he’s sure to fall on his feet and make his fortune—pious -hypocrites always do. One would almost fancy there must be a special -Deity to protect the professors of Humbug. It is only the sincerely -honest folk who get wronged in this admirably-ordered world!” -</p> - -<p> -He spoke with bitterness; and Féraz glanced at him anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not quite agree with you”—he said; “Surely honest folk always -have their reward?—though perhaps superficial observers may not be -able to perceive where it comes in. I believe in ‘walking uprightly’ -as the Bible says—it seems to me easier to keep along a straight open -road than to take dark by-ways and dubious short cuts.” -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean by your straight open road?” demanded El-Râmi, -looking at him. -</p> - -<p> -“Nature,”—replied Féraz promptly—“Nature leads us up to God.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi broke into a harsh laugh. -</p> - -<p> -“O credulous beautiful lad!” he exclaimed; “You know not what you say! -Nature! Consider her methods of work—her dark and cunning and cruel -methods! Every living thing preys on some other living -things;—creatures wonderful, innocent, simple or complex, live -apparently but to devour and be devoured;—every inch of ground we -step upon is the dust of something dead. In the horrible depths of the -earth, Nature,—this generous kindly Nature!—hides her dread volcanic -fires,—her streams of lava, her boiling founts of sulphur and molten -lead, which at any unexpected moment may destroy whole continents -crowded with unsuspecting humanity. This is NATURE,—nothing but -Nature! She hides her treasures of gold, of silver, of diamonds and -rubies, in the deepest and most dangerous recesses, where human beings -are lost in toiling for them,—buried in darkness and slain by -thousands in the difficult search;—diving for pearls, the unwary -explorer is met by the remorseless monsters of the deep,—in fact, in -all his efforts towards discovery and progress, Man, the most -naturally defenceless creature upon earth, is met by death or blank -discouragement. Suppose he were to trust to Nature alone, what would -Nature do for him? He is sent into the world naked and helpless;—and -all the resources of his body and brain have to be educated and -brought into active requisition to enable him to live at all,—lions’ -whelps, bears’ cubs have a better ‘natural’ chance than he;—and then, -when he has learned how to make the best of his surroundings, he is -turned out of the world again, naked and helpless as he came in, with -all his knowledge of no more use to him than if he had never attained -it. This is NATURE, if Nature be thus reckless and unreasonable as the -‘reflex of God’—how reckless and unreasonable must be God Himself!” -</p> - -<p> -The beautiful stag-like eyes of Féraz darkened slowly, and his slim -hand involuntarily clenched. -</p> - -<p> -“Ay, if God were so,” he said—“the veriest pigmy among men might -boast of nobler qualities than He! But God is not so, El-Râmi! Of -course you can argue any and every way, and I cannot confute your -reasoning. Because you reason with the merely mortal intelligence; to -answer you rightly I should have to reply as a Spirit,—I should need -to be out of the body before I could tell you where you are wrong.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well!” said his brother curiously—“Then why do you not do so? Why do -you not come to me out of the body, and enlighten me as to what you -know?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked troubled. -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot!” he said sadly—“When I go—away yonder—I seem to have so -little remembrance of earthly things—I am separated from the world by -thousands of air-spaces. I am always conscious that you exist on -earth,—but it is always as of some one who will join <i>me</i> -presently—not of one whom <i>I</i> am compelled to join. There is the -strangeness of it. That is why I have very little belief in the notion -of ghosts and spirits appearing to men—because I know positively that -no detached soul willingly returns to or remains on earth. There is -always the upward yearning. If it returns, it does so simply because -it is, for some reason, <i>commanded</i>, not because of its own desire.” -</p> - -<p> -“And who do you suppose commands it?” asked El-Râmi. -</p> - -<p> -“The Highest of all Powers,”—replied Féraz reverently—“whom we all, -whether spirit or mortal, obey.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do not obey,”—said El-Râmi composedly—“I enforce obedience.” -</p> - -<p> -“From whom?” cried Féraz with agitation—“O my brother, from whom? -From mortals perhaps—yes,—so long as it is permitted to you—but -from Heaven—no! No, not from Heaven can you win obedience. For God’s -sake do not boast of <i>such</i> power!” -</p> - -<p> -He spoke passionately, and in anxious earnest. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“My good fellow, why excite yourself? I do not ‘boast’—I am -simply—strong! If I am immortal, God Himself cannot slay me,—if I am -mortal only, I can but die. I am indifferent either way. Only I will -not shrink before an imaginary Divine terror till I prove what right -it has to my submission. Enough!—we have talked too much on this -subject, and I have work to do.” -</p> - -<p> -He turned to his writing-table as he spoke and was soon busy there. -Féraz took up a book and tried to read, but his heart beat quickly, -and he was overwhelmed by a deep sense of fear. The daring of his -brother’s words smote him with a chill horror,—from time immemorial, -had not the forces divine punished pride as the deadliest of sins? His -thoughts travelled over the great plain of History, on which so many -spectres of dead nations stand in our sight as pale warnings of our -own possible fate, and remembered how surely it came to pass that when -men became too proud and defiant and absolute,—rejecting God and -serving themselves only, then they were swept away into desolation and -oblivion. As with nations, so with individuals—the Law of -Compensation is just, and as evenly balanced as the symmetrical motion -of the Universe. And the words, “Except ye become as little children -ye shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven,” rang through his ears, as -he sat heavily silent, and wondering, wondering <i>where</i> the researches -of his brother would end, and <i>how</i>? -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi himself meanwhile was scanning the last pages of his dead -friend Kremlin’s private journal. This was a strange book,—kept with -exceeding care, and written in the form of letters which were all -addressed “To the Beloved Maroussia in Heaven”—and amply proved that, -in spite of the separated seclusion and eccentricity of his life, -Kremlin had not only been faithful to the love of his early days, the -girl who had died self-slain in her Russian prison,—but he had been -firm in his acceptance of and belief in the immortality of the soul -and the reunion of parted spirits. His last “letter” ran thus—it was -unfinished and had been written the night before the fatal storm which -had made an end of his life and learning together,— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“I seem to be now on the verge of the discovery for which I have -yearned. Thou knowest, O heart of my heart, how I dream that these -brilliant and ceaseless vibrations of light may perchance carry to the -world some message which it were well and wise we should know. Oh, if -this ‘Light,’ which is my problem and mystery, could but transmit to -my earthly vision one flashing gleam of thy presence, my beloved -child! But thou wilt guide me, so that I presume not too far;—I feel -thou art near me, and that thou wilt not fail me at the last. If in -the space of an earthly ten minutes this marvellous ‘Light’ can travel -111,600,000 miles, thou as a ‘spirit of light’ canst not be very far -away. Only till my work for poor humanity is done, do I choose to be -parted from thee—be the time long or short—we shall meet. ...” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -Here the journal ended. -</p> - -<p> -“And have they met?” thought El-Râmi, as closing the book he locked -it away in his desk—“And do they remember they were ever mortal? And -<i>what</i> are they—and <i>where</i> are they?” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch35"> -XXXV. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">In</span> the midst of the strange “summer” weather which frequently falls -to the lot of England,—weather alternating between hot and cold, wet -and dry, sun and cloud with the most distracting rapidity and -irregularity,—there came at last one perfect night towards the end of -June,—a night which could have met with no rival even in the sunniest -climes of the sunniest south. A soft tranquillity hovered dove-like in -the air,—a sense of perfect peace seemed to permeate all visible and -created things. The sky was densely blue and thickly strewn with -stars, though these glimmered but faintly, their light being put to -shame by the splendid brilliancy of the full moon which swam aloft -airily like a great golden bubble. El-Râmi’s windows were all set -open; a big bunch of heliotrope adorned the table, and the subtle -fragrance of it stole out delicately to mingle with the -faintly-stirring evening breeze. Féraz was sitting alone,—his -brother had just left the room,—and he was indulging himself in the -<i>dolce far niente</i> as only the Southern or Eastern temperament can do. -His hands were clasped lightly behind his head, and his eyes were -fixed on the shabby little trees in the square which had done their -best to look green among the whirling smuts of the metropolis and had -failed ignominiously in the attempt, but which now, in the ethereal -light of the moon, presented a soft outline of gray and silver like -olive-boughs seen in the distance. He was thinking, with a certain -serious satisfaction, of an odd circumstance that had occurred to -himself that day. It had happened in this wise: Since the time Zaroba -had taken him to look upon the beautiful creature who was the -“subject” of his brother’s experiments, he had always kept the memory -of her in his mind without speaking of her, save that whenever he said -a prayer or offered up a thanksgiving he had invariably used the -phrase—“God defend her!” He could only explain “Her” to himself by -the simple pronoun, because, as El-Râmi had willed, he had utterly -and hopelessly forgotten her name. But now, strange to say, he -remembered it!—it had flashed across his mind like a beam of light or -a heaven-sent signal,—he was at work, writing at his poem, when some -sudden inexplicable instinct had prompted him to lift his eyes and -murmur devoutly—“God defend Lilith!” Lilith!—how soft the sound of -it!—how infinitely bewitching! After having lost it for so long, it -had come back to him in a moment—how or why, he could not imagine. He -could only account for it in one way—namely, that El-Râmi’s -will-forces were so concentrated on some particularly absorbing object -that his daily influence on his brother’s young life was thereby -materially lessened. And Féraz was by no means sorry that this should -be so. -</p> - -<p> -“Why should it matter that I remember her name?” he mused—“I shall -never speak of her—for I have sworn I will not. But I can think of -her to my heart’s content,—the beautiful Lilith!” -</p> - -<p> -Then he fell to considering the old legend of that Lilith who it is -said was Adam’s first wife,—and he smiled as he thought what a name -of evil omen it was to the Jews, who had charms and talismans -wherewith to exorcise the supposed evil influence connected with -it,—while to him, Féraz, it was a name sweeter than honey-sweet -singing. Then there came to his mind stray snatches of -poesy,—delicate rhymes from the rich and varied stores of one of his -favourite poets, Dante Gabriel Rossetti,—rhymes that sounded in his -ears just now like the strophes of a sibylline chant or spell: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“It was Lilith the wife of Adam:</p> -<p class="i6">(<i>Sing Eden Bower!</i>)</p> -<p class="i0">Not a drop of her blood was human,</p> -<p class="i0">But she was made like a soft sweet woman.”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“And that is surely true!” said Féraz to himself, a little -startled,—“For—if she is <i>dead</i>, as El-Râmi asserts, and her -seeming life is but the result of his art, then indeed in the case of -this Lilith ‘not a drop of her blood is human.’” -</p> - -<p> -And the poem ran on in his mind— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“Lilith stood on the skirts of Eden:</p> -<p class="i6">(<i>Alas, the hour!</i>)</p> -<p class="i0">She was the first that thence was driven:</p> -<p class="i0">With her was hell, and with Eve was heaven.”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“Nay, I should transpose that,”—murmured the young man drowsily, -staring out on the moonlit street—“I should say, ‘With Eve was hell, -and with Lilith heaven.’ How strange it is I should never have thought -of this poem before!—and I have often turned over the pages of -Rossetti’s book,—since—since I saw her;—I must have actually seen -the name of Lilith printed there, and yet it never suggested itself to -me as being familiar or offering any sort of clue.” -</p> - -<p> -He sighed perplexedly,—the heliotrope odours floated around him, and -the gleam of the lamp in the room seemed to pale in the wide splendour -of the moon-rays pouring through the window,—and still the delicate -sprite of Poesy continued to remind him of familiar lines and verses -he loved, though all the while he thought of Lilith, and kept on -wondering vaguely and vainly what would be, what could be, the end of -his brother’s experiment (whatever that was, for he, Féraz, did not -know) on the lovely, apparently living girl who yet was dead. It was -very strange—and surely, it was also very terrible! -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“The day is dark and the night</p> -<p class="i1">To him that would search their heart;</p> -<p class="i1">No lips of cloud that will part,</p> -<p class="i0">Nor morning song in the light:</p> -<p class="i1">Only, gazing alone</p> -<p class="i1">To him wild shadows are shown,</p> -<p class="i1">Deep under deep unknown</p> -<p class="i0">And height above unknown height.</p> -<p class="i0">Still we say as we go,—</p> -<p class="i1">‘Strange to think by the way,</p> -<p class="i0">Whatever there is to know,</p> -<p class="i1">That shall we know one day.’”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -This passage of rhyme sang itself out with a monotonous musical -gentleness in his brain,—he closed his eyes restfully,—and -then—lying back thus in his chair by the open window, with the -moonlight casting a wide halo round him and giving a pale spiritual -beauty to his delicate classic features,—he passed away out of his -body, as <i>he</i> would have said, and was no more on earth; or rather, as -<i>we</i> should say, he fell asleep and dreamed. And the “dream” or the -“experience” was this:— -</p> - -<p> -He found himself walking leisurely upon the slopes of a majestic -mountain, which seemed not so much mountain as garden, for all the -winding paths leading to its summit were fringed with flowers. He -heard the silvery plashing of brooks and fountains, and the rustling -of thickly-foliaged trees,—he knew the place well, and realised that -he was in his “star” again,—the mystic Sphere he called his “home.” -But he was evidently an exile or an alien in it,—he had grown to -realise this fact and was sorry it should be so, yet his sorrow was -mingled with hope, for he felt it would not always be so. He wandered -along aimlessly and alone, full of a curiously vague happiness and -regret, and as he walked he was passed by crowds of beautiful youths -and maidens, who were all pressing forward eagerly as to some high -festival or great assembly. They sang blithe songs,—they scattered -flowers,—they talked with each other in happy-toned voices,—and he -stood aside gazing at them wistfully while they went on rejoicing. -</p> - -<p> -“O land where life never grows old and where love is eternal!” he -mused—“Why am I exiled from thy glory? Why have I lost thy joy?” -</p> - -<p> -He sighed;—he longed to know what had brought together so bright a -multitude of these lovely and joyous beings,—his own “dear people” as -he felt they were; and yet—yet he hesitated to ask one of them the -least question, feeling himself unworthy. At last he saw a girl -approaching,—she was singing to herself and tying flowers in a -garland as she came,—her loose golden hair streamed behind her, every -glistening tress seeming to flash light as she moved. As she drew near -him she glanced at him kindly and paused as though waiting to be -addressed,—seeing this, he mustered up his courage and spoke. -</p> - -<p> -“Whither are you all going?” he asked, with a sad gentleness—“I may -not follow you, I know,—but will you tell me why, in this kingdom of -joy, so much fresh joy seems added?” -</p> - -<p> -She pointed upwards, and as his eyes obeyed her gesture he saw, in the -opal-coloured sky that bent above them, a dazzling blaze of gold and -crimson glory towards the south. -</p> - -<p> -“An Angel passes!” she replied—“Below that line of light the Earth -swings round in its little orbit, and from the Earth She comes! We go -to watch her flight heavenward, and win the benediction that her -passing presence gives. For look you!—all that splendour in the sky -is not light, but wings!” -</p> - -<p> -“Wings!” echoed Féraz dreamily, yet nothing doubting what she said. -</p> - -<p> -“Wings or rays of glory,—which you will”—said the maiden, turning -her own beautiful eyes towards the flashing brilliancy; “They are -waiting there,—those who come from the farthest Divine world,—they -are the friends of Lilith.” -</p> - -<p> -She bent her head serenely, and passed onward and upward, and Féraz -stood still, his gaze fixed in the direction of that southern light -which he now perceived was never still, but quivered as with a million -shafts of vari-coloured fire. -</p> - -<p> -“The friends of Lilith!” he repeated to himself—“Angels then,—for -she is an Angel.” -</p> - -<p> -Angels!—angels waiting for Lilith in the glory of the South! How -long—how long would they wait?—when would Lilith herself -appear?—and would the very heavens open to receive her, soaring -upward? He trembled,—he tried to realise the unimaginable scene,—and -then, ... then he seemed to be seized and hurried away somewhere -against his will ... and all that was light grew dark. He shuddered as -with icy cold, and felt that earth again encompassed him,—and -presently he woke—to find his brother looking at him. -</p> - -<p> -“Why in the world do you go to sleep with the window wide open?” asked -El-Râmi—“Here I find you, literally bathed in the moonlight—and -moonlight drives men mad, they say,—so fast too in the land of Nod -that I could hardly waken you. Shut the window, my dear boy, if you -<i>must</i> sleep.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz sprang up quickly,—his eyes felt dazzled still with the -remembrance of that “glory of the angels in the South.” -</p> - -<p> -“I was not asleep,”—he said—“But certainly I was not here.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!—In your Star again of course!” murmured El-Râmi with the -faintest trace of mockery in his tone. But Féraz took no offence—his -one anxiety was to prevent the name of “Lilith” springing to his lips -in spite of himself. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—I was there”—he answered slowly. “And do you know all the -people in the land are gathering together by thousands to see an Angel -pass heavenward? And there is a glory of her sister-angels, away in -the Southern horizon like the splendid circle described by Dante in -his <i>Paradiso</i>. Thus— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“‘There is a light in heaven whose goodly shine</p> -<p class="i0">Makes the Creator visible to all</p> -<p class="i0">Created, that in seeing Him alone</p> -<p class="i0">Have peace. And in a circle spreads so far</p> -<p class="i0">That the circumference were too loose a zone</p> -<p class="i0">To girdle in the sun!’”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -He quoted the lines with strange eagerness and fervour,—and El-Râmi -looked at him curiously. -</p> - -<p> -“What odd dreams you have!” he said, not unkindly—“Always fantastic -and impossible, but beautiful in their way. You should set them down -in black and white, and see how earth’s critics will bespatter your -heaven with the ink of their office pens! Poor boy!—how limply you -would fall from ‘Paradise’!—with what damp dejected wings!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“I do not agree with you”—he said—“If you speak of -imagination,—only in this case I am not imagining,—no one can shut -out that Paradise from me at any time—neither pope nor king, nor -critic. Thought is free, thank God!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—perhaps it is the only thing we have to be really thankful -for,”—returned El-Râmi—“Well—I will leave you to resume your -‘dreams’—only don’t sleep with the windows open. Summer evenings are -treacherous,—I should advise you to get to bed.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you?” asked Féraz, moved by a sudden anxiety which he could not -explain. -</p> - -<p> -“I shall not sleep to-night,”—said his brother moodily—“Something -has occurred to me—a suggestion—an idea which I am impatient to work -out without loss of time. And, Féraz,—if I succeed in it—you shall -know the result to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -This promise, which implied such a new departure from El-Râmi’s -customary reticence concerning his work, really alarmed Féraz more -than gratified him. -</p> - -<p> -“For Heaven’s sake be careful!” he exclaimed—“You attempt so -much,—you want so much,—perhaps more than can in law and justice be -given. El-Râmi, my brother, leave something to God—you cannot, you -dare not take all!” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear visionary,” replied El-Râmi gently—“You alarm yourself -needlessly, I assure you. I do not want to take anything except what -is my own,—and, as for leaving something to God, why, He is welcome -to what He makes of me in the end—a pinch of dust!” -</p> - -<p> -“There is more than dust in your composition—” cried Féraz -impetuously—“There is divinity! And the divinity belongs to God, and -to God you must render it up, pure and perfect. He claims it from you, -and you are bound to give it.” -</p> - -<p> -A tremor passed through El-Râmi’s frame, and he grew paler. -</p> - -<p> -“If that be true, Féraz,” he said slowly and with emphasis—“if it -indeed be true that there <i>is</i> divinity in me,—which I doubt!—why, -then let God claim and take his own particle of fire when He will, and -as He will! Good-night!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz caught his hands and pressed them tenderly in his own. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-night!” he murmured—“God does all things well, and to His care -I commend you, my dearest brother.” -</p> - -<p> -And as El-Râmi turned away and left the room he gazed after him with -a chill sense of fear and desolation,—almost as if he were doomed -never to see him again. He could not reason his alarm away, and yet he -knew not why he should feel any alarm,—but, truth to tell, his -interior sense of vision seemed still to smart and ache with the -radiance of the light he had seen in his “star” and that roseate -sunset-flush of “glory in the south” created by the clustering angels -who were “the friends of Lilith.” Why were they there?—what did they -wait for?—how should Lilith know them or have any intention of -joining them, when she was here,—here on the earth, as he, Féraz, -knew,—here under the supreme dominance of his own brother? He dared -not speculate too far; and, trying to dismiss all thought from his -mind, he was proceeding towards his own room, there to retire for the -night, when he met Zaroba coming down the stairs. Her dark withered -face had a serene and almost happy expression upon it,—she smiled as -she saw him. -</p> - -<p> -“It is a night for dreams,—” she said, sinking her harsh voice to a -soft almost musical cadence—“And as the multitude of the stars in -heaven, so are the countless heart-throbs that pulsate in the world at -this hour to the silver sway of the moon. All over the world!—all -over the world!—” and she swung her arms to and fro with a slow -rhythmical movement, so that the silver bangles on them clashed softly -like the subdued tinkling of bells;—then, fixing her black eyes upon -Féraz with a mournful yet kindly gaze she added—“Not for you—not -for you, gentlest of dreamers! not for you! It is destined that you -should dream,—and, for you, dreaming is best,—but for <i>me</i>—I would -rather <i>live</i> one hour than dream for a century!” -</p> - -<p> -Her words were vague and wild as usual,—yet somehow Féraz chafed -under the hidden sense of them, and he gave a slight petulant gesture -of irritation. Zaroba, seeing it, broke into a low laugh. -</p> - -<p> -“As God liveth,—” she muttered—“The poor lad fights bravely! He -hates the world without ever having known it,—and recoils from love -without ever having tasted it! He chooses a thought, a rhyme, a song, -an art, rather than a passion! Poor lad—poor lad! Dream on, -child!—but pray that you may never wake. For to dream of love may be -sweet, but to wake without it is bitter.” -</p> - -<p> -Like a gliding wraith she passed him and disappeared. Féraz had a -mind to follow her down stairs to the basement where she had the sort -of rough sleeping accommodation her half-savage nature preferred, -whenever she slept at all out of Lilith’s room, which was but -seldom,—yet on second thoughts he decided he would let her alone. -</p> - -<p> -“She only worries me—” he said to himself half vexedly as he went to -his own little apartment—“It was she who first disobeyed El-Râmi, -and made me disobey him also, and though she did take me to see the -wonderful Lilith, what was the use of it? Her matchless beauty -compelled my adoration, my enthusiasm, my reverence, almost my -love—but who could dare to love such a removed angelic creature? Not -even El-Râmi himself,—for he must know, even as I feel, that she is -beyond all love, save the Love Divine.” -</p> - -<p> -He cast off his loose Eastern dress, and prepared to lie down, when he -was startled by a faint far sound of singing. He listened -attentively;—it seemed to come from outside, and he quickly flung -open his window, which only opened upon a little narrow backyard such -as is common to London houses. But the moonlight transfigured its -ugliness, making it look like a square white court set in walls of -silver. The soft rays fell caressingly too on the bare bronze-tinted -shoulders of Féraz, as half undressed, he leaned out, his eyes -upturned to the halcyon heavens. Surely, surely there was singing -somewhere,—why, he could distinguish words amid the sounds! -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i6">Away, away!</p> -<p class="i0">Where the glittering planets whirl and swim</p> -<p class="i0">And the glory of the sun grows dim</p> -<p class="i6">Away, away!</p> -<p class="i0">To the regions of light and fire and air</p> -<p class="i0">Where the spirits of life are everywhere</p> -<p class="i0">Come, oh come away!</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -Trembling in every limb, Féraz caught the song distinctly, and held -his breath in fear and wonder. -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i6">Away, away!</p> -<p class="i0">Come, oh come! we have waited long</p> -<p class="i0">And we sing thee now a summoning song</p> -<p class="i6">Away, away!</p> -<p class="i0">Thou art freed from the world of the dreaming dead,</p> -<p class="i0">And the splendours of Heaven are round thee spread—</p> -<p class="i6">Come away!—away!</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -The chorus grew fainter and fainter—yet still sounded like a distant -musical hum on the air. -</p> - -<p> -“It is my fancy”—murmured Féraz at last, as he drew in his head and -noiselessly shut the window—“It is the work of my own imagination, or -what is perhaps more probable, the work of El-Râmi’s will. I have -heard such music before,—at his bidding—no, not <i>such</i> music, but -something very like it.” -</p> - -<p> -He waited a few minutes, then quietly knelt down to pray,—but no -words suggested themselves, save the phrase that once before had risen -to his lips that day,—“God defend Lilith!” -</p> - -<p> -He uttered it aloud,—then sprang up confused and half afraid, for the -name had rung out so clearly that it seemed like a call or a command. -</p> - -<p> -“Well!” he said, trying to steady his nerves—“What if I did say it? -There is no harm in the words ‘God defend her.’ If she is dead, as -El-Râmi says, she needs no defence, for her soul belongs to God -already.” -</p> - -<p> -He paused again,—the silence everywhere was now absolutely unbroken -and intense, and repelling the vague presentiments that threatened to -oppress his mind, he threw himself on his bed and was soon sound -asleep. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch36"> -XXXVI. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">And</span> what of the “sign” promised by Lilith? Had it been given? -No,—but El-Râmi’s impatience would brook no longer delay, and he had -determined to put an end to his perplexities by violent means if -necessary, and take the risk of whatever consequences might ensue. He -had been passing through the strangest phases of thought and -self-analysis during these latter weeks,—trying, reluctantly enough, -to bend his haughty spirit down to an attitude of humility and -patience which ill suited him. He was essentially masculine in his -complete belief in himself,—and more than all things he resented any -interference with his projects, whether such interference were human -or Divine. When therefore the tranced Lilith had bidden him “wait, -watch and pray,” she had laid upon him the very injunctions he found -most difficult to follow. He could wait and watch if he were certain -of results,—but where there was the slightest glimmer of -<i>un</i>certainty, he grew very soon tired of both waiting and watching. -As for “praying”—he told himself arrogantly that to ask for what he -could surely obtain by the exerted strength of his own will was not -only superfluous, but implied great weakness of character. It was -then, in the full-armed spirit of pride and assertive dominance that -he went up that night to Lilith’s chamber, and dismissing Zaroba with -more than usual gentleness of demeanour towards her, sat down beside -the couch on which his lovely and mysterious “subject” lay, to all -appearances inanimate save for her quiet breathing. His eyes were -sombre, yet glittered with a somewhat dangerous lustre under their -drooping lids;—he was to be duped no longer, he said to himself,—he -had kept faithful vigil night after night, hoping against hope, -believing against belief, and not the smallest movement or hint that -could be construed into the promised “sign” had been vouchsafed to -him. And all his old doubts returned to chafe and fret his -brain,—doubts as to whether he had not been deceiving himself all -this while in spite of his boasted scepticism,—and whether Lilith, -when she spoke, was not merely repeating like a mechanical automaton, -the stray thoughts of his own mind reflected upon hers? He had -“proved” the possibility of that kind of thing occurring between human -beings who were scarcely connected with each other even by a tie of -ordinary friendship—how much more likely then that it should happen -in such a case as that of Lilith,—Lilith who had been under the sole -dominance of his will for six years! Yet while he thus teased himself -with misgivings, he knew it was impossible to account for the mystic -tendency of her language, or the strange and super-sensual character -of the information she gave or feigned to give. It was not from -himself or his own information that he had obtained a description of -the landscapes in Mars,—its wondrous red fields,—its rosy foliage -and flowers,—its great jagged rocks ablaze with amethystine -spar,—its huge conical shells, tall and light, that rose up like -fairy towers, fringed with flags and garlands of marine blossom, out -of oceans the colour of jasper and pearl. Certainly too, it was not -from the testimony of <i>his</i> inner consciousness that he had evoked the -faith that seemed so natural to her; <i>her</i> belief in a Divine -Personality, and <i>his</i> utter rejection of any such idea, were two -things wider asunder than the poles, and had no possible sort of -connection. Nevertheless what he could not account for, wearied him -out and irritated him by its elusiveness and unprovable -character,—and finally, his long, frequent, and profitless -reflections on the matter had brought him this night up to a point of -determination which but a few months back would have seemed to him -impossible. <i>He had resolved to waken Lilith</i>. What sort of a being -she would seem when once awakened, he could not quite imagine. He knew -she had died in his arms as a child,—and that her seeming life now, -and her growth into the loveliness of womanhood was the result of -artificial means evolved from the wonders of chemistry,—but he -persuaded himself that though her existence was the work of science -and not nature, it was better than natural, and would last as long. He -determined he would break that mysterious trance of body in which the -departing Intelligence had been, by his skill, detained and held in -connection with its earthly habitation,—he would transform the -sleeping visionary into a living woman, for—he loved her. He could no -longer disguise from himself that her fair face with its heavenly -smile, framed in the golden hair that circled it like a halo, haunted -him in every minute of time,—he could not and would not deny that his -whole being ached to clasp with a lover’s embrace that exquisite -beauty which had so long been passively surrendered to his -experimentings,—and with the daring of a proud and unrestrained -nature, he frankly avowed his feeling to himself and made no pretence -of hiding it any longer. But it was a far deeper mystery than his -“search for the Soul of Lilith,” to find out when and how this passion -had first arisen in him. He could not analyse himself so thoroughly as -to discover its vague beginnings. Perhaps it was germinated by -Zaroba’s wild promptings,—perhaps by the fact that a certain -unreasonable jealousy had chafed his spirit when he knew that his -brother Féraz had won a smile of attention and response from the -tranced girl,—perhaps it was owing to the irritation he had felt at -the idea that his visitor, the monk from Cyprus, seemed to know more -of her than he himself did,—at any rate, whatever the cause, he who -had been sternly impassive once to the subtle attraction of Lilith’s -outward beauty, madly adored that outward beauty now. And as is usual -with very self-reliant and proud dispositions, he almost began to -glory in a sentiment which but a short time ago he would have repelled -and scorned. What was <i>for</i> himself and <i>of</i> himself was good in his -sight—<i>his</i> knowledge, <i>his</i> “proved” things, <i>his</i> tested -discoveries, all these were excellent in his opinion, and the “Ego” of -his own ability was the pivot on which all his actions turned. He had -laid his plans carefully for the awakening of Lilith,—but in one -little trifle they had been put out by the absence from town of Madame -Irene Vassilius. She, of all women he had ever met, was the one he -would have trusted with his secret, because he knew that her life, -though lived in the world, was as stainless as though it were lived in -heaven. He had meant to place Lilith in her care,—in order that with -her fine perceptions, lofty ideals, and delicate sense of all things -beautiful and artistic, she might accustom the girl to look upon the -fairest and noblest side of life, so that she might not regret the -“visions”—yes, he would call them “visions”—she had lost. But Irene -was among the mountains of the Austrian Tyrol, enjoying a holiday in -the intimate society of the fairest Queen in the world, Margherita of -Italy, one of the few living Sovereigns who really strive to bestow on -intellectual worth its true appreciation and reward. And her house in -London was shut up, and under the sole charge of the happy Karl, -former servant to Dr. Kremlin, who had now found with the fair and -famous authoress a situation that suited him exactly. “Wild horses -would not tear him from his lady’s service” he was wont to say, and he -guarded her household interests jealously, and said “Not at home” to -undesired visitors like Roy Ainsworth for example, with a gruffness -that would have done credit to a Russian bear. To Irene Vassilius, -therefore, El-Râmi could not turn for the help he had meant to ask, -and he was sorry and disappointed, for he had particularly wished to -remove his “sleeper awakened” out of the companionship of both Zaroba -and Féraz,—and there was no other woman like Irene,—at once so pure -and proud, so brilliantly gifted, and so far removed from the touch -and taint of modern social vulgarity. However, her aid was now -unattainable, and he had to make up his mind to do without it. And so -he resolutely put away the thought of the after-results of Lilith’s -awakening,—he, who was generally so careful to calculate -consequences, instinctively avoided the consideration of them in the -present instance. -</p> - -<p> -The little silver timepiece ticked with an aggressive loudness as he -sat now at his usual post, his black eyes fixed half tenderly, half -fiercely on Lilith’s white beauty,—beauty which was, as he told -himself, all his own. Her arms were folded across her breast,—her -features were pallid as marble, and her breathing was very light and -low. The golden lamp burned dimly as it swung from the -purple-pavilioned ceiling—the scent of the roses that were always set -fresh in their vase every day, filled the room, and though the windows -were closed against the night, a dainty moonbeam strayed in through a -chink where the draperies were not quite drawn, and mingled its -emerald glitter with the yellow lustre shed by the lamp on the -darkly-carpeted floor. -</p> - -<p> -“I will risk it,”—said El-Râmi in a whisper,—a whisper that sounded -loud in the deep stillness—“I will risk it—why not? I have proved -myself capable of arresting life, or the soul—for life <i>is</i> the -soul—in its flight from hence into the Nowhere,—I must needs also -have the power to keep it indefinitely here for myself in whatever -form I please. These are the rewards of science,—rewards which I am -free to claim,—and what I have done, that I have a right to do again. -Now let me ask myself the question plainly;—Do I believe in the -supernatural?” -</p> - -<p> -He paused, thinking earnestly,—his eyes still fixed on Lilith. -</p> - -<p> -“No, I do not,”—he answered himself at last—“Frankly and honestly, I -do not. I have no proofs. I am, it is true, puzzled by Lilith’s -language,—but when I know her as she is, a woman, sentient and -conscious of my presence, I may find out the seeming mystery. The -dreams of Féraz are only dreams,—the vision I saw on that one -occasion”—and a faint tremor came over him as he remembered the sweet -yet solemn look of the shining One he had seen standing between him -and his visitor the monk—“the vision was of course <i>his</i> work—the -work of that mystic master of a no less mystic brotherhood. No—I have -no proofs of the supernatural, and I must not deceive myself. Even the -promise of Lilith fails. Poor child!—she sleeps like the daughter of -Jairus, but when I, in my turn, pronounce the words ‘Maiden, I say -unto thee, arise’—she will obey;—she will awake and live indeed.” -</p> - -<p> -“She will awake and live indeed!” -</p> - -<p> -The words were repeated after him distinctly—but by whom? He started -up,—looked round—there was no one in the room,—and Lilith was -immovable as the dead. He began to find something chill and sad in the -intense silence that followed,—everything about him was a harmony of -glowing light and purple colour,—yet all seemed suddenly very dull -and dim and cold. He shivered where he stood, and pressed his hands to -his eyes,—his temples throbbed and ached, and he felt curiously -bewildered. Presently, looking round the room again, he saw that the -picture of “Christ and His Disciples” was unveiled;—he had not -noticed the circumstance before. Had Zaroba inadvertently drawn aside -the curtain which ordinarily hid it from view? Slowly his eyes -travelled to it and dwelt upon it—slowly they followed the letters of -the inscription beneath: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“WHOM SAY YE THAT I AM?”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -The question seemed to him for the moment all-paramount, he could not -shake off the sense of pertinacious demand with which it impressed -him. -</p> - -<p> -“A good Man,”—he said aloud, staring fixedly at the divine Face and -Figure, with its eloquent expression of exalted patience, grandeur and -sweetness. “A good Man, misled by noble enthusiasm and unselfish -desire to benefit the poor. A man with a wise knowledge of human -magnetism and the methods of healing in which it can be employed,—a -man, too, somewhat skilled in the art of optical illusion. Yet when -all is said and done, a <i>good</i> Man—too good and wise and pure for the -peace of the rulers of the world,—too honest and clear-sighted to -deserve any other reward but death. Divine?—No!—save in so far as in -our highest moments we are all divine. Existing now?—a Prince of -Heaven, a Pleader against Punishment? Nay, nay!—no more existing than -the Soul of Lilith,—that soul for which I search, but which I feel I -shall never find!” -</p> - -<p> -And he drew nearer to the ivory-satin couch on which lay the lovely -sleeping wonder and puzzle of his ambitious dreams. Leaning towards -her he touched her hands,—they were cold, but as he laid his own upon -them they grew warm and trembled. Closer still he leaned, his eyes -drinking in every detail of her beauty with eager, proud and masterful -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith!—<i>my</i> Lilith!” he murmured—“After all, why should we put off -happiness for the sake of everlastingness, when happiness can be had, -at any rate for a few years. One can but live and die and there an -end. And Love comes but once, ... Love!—how I have scoffed at it and -made a jest of it as if it were a plaything. And even now while my -whole heart craves for it, I question whether it is worth having! Poor -Lilith!—only a woman after all,—a woman whose beauty will soon -pass—whose days will soon be done,—only a woman—not an immortal -Soul,—there is, there can be, no such thing as an immortal Soul.” -</p> - -<p> -Bending down over her, he resolutely unclasped the fair crossed arms, -and seized the delicate small hands in a close grip. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! Lilith!” he called imperiously. -</p> - -<p> -A long and heavy pause ensued,—then the girl’s limbs quivered -violently as though moved by a sudden convulsion, and her lips parted -in the utterance of the usual formula— -</p> - -<p> -“I am here.” -</p> - -<p> -“Here at last, but you have been absent long”—said El-Râmi with some -reproach, “Too long. And you have forgotten your promise.” -</p> - -<p> -“Forgotten!” she echoed—“O doubting spirit! Do such as I am, ever -forget?” -</p> - -<p> -Her thrilling accents awed him a little, but he pursued his own way -with her, undauntedly. -</p> - -<p> -“Then why have you not fulfilled it?” he demanded—“The strongest -patience may tire. I have waited and watched, as you bade me—but -now—now I am weary of waiting.” -</p> - -<p> -Oh, what a sigh broke from her lips! -</p> - -<p> -“I am weary too”—she said—“The angels are weary. God is weary. All -Creation is weary—of Doubt.” -</p> - -<p> -For a moment he was abashed,—but only for a moment; in himself he -considered Doubt to be the strongest part of his nature,—a positive -shield and buckler against possible error. -</p> - -<p> -“You cannot wait,”—went on Lilith, speaking slowly and with evident -sadness—“Neither can we. We have hoped,—in vain! We have watched—in -vain! The strong man’s pride will not bend, nor the stubborn spirit -turn in prayer to its Creator. Therefore what is not bent must be -broken,—and what voluntarily refuses Light must accept Darkness. I am -bidden to come to you, my beloved,—to come to you as I am, and as I -ever shall be,—I will come—but how will you receive me?” -</p> - -<p> -“With ecstasy, with love, with welcome beyond all words or thoughts!” -cried El-Râmi in passionate excitement. “O Lilith, Lilith! you who -read the stars, cannot you read my heart? Do you not see that I—I who -have recoiled from the very thought of loving,—I, who have striven to -make of myself a man of stone and iron rather than flesh and blood, am -conquered by your spells, victorious Lilith!—conquered in every fibre -of my being by some subtle witchcraft known to yourself alone. Am I -weak!—am I false to my own beliefs? I know not,—I am only conscious -of the sovereignty of beauty which has mastered many a stronger man -than I. What is the fiercest fire compared with this fever in my -veins? I worship you, Lilith! I love you!—more than the world, life, -time and hope of heaven, I love you!” -</p> - -<p> -Flushed with eagerness and trembling with his own emotion, he rained -kisses on the hands he held, but Lilith strove to withdraw them from -his clasp. Pale as alabaster she lay as usual with fast-closed eyes, -and again a deep sigh heaved her breast. -</p> - -<p> -“You love my Shadow,”—she said mournfully—“not Myself.” -</p> - -<p> -But El-Râmi’s rapture was not to be chilled by these words. He -gathered up a glittering mass of the rich hair that lay scattered on -the pillow and pressed it to his lips. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh Lilith mine, is this ‘Shadow’?” he asked—“All this gold in which -I net my heart like a willingly-caught bird, and make an end of my -boasted wisdom? Are these sweet lips, these fair features, this -exquisite body, all ‘shadow’? Then blessed must be the light that -casts so gracious a reflection! Judge me not harshly, my Sweet,—for -if indeed you are divine, and this beauty I behold is the mere reflex -of Divinity, let me see the divine form of you for once, and have a -guarantee for faith through love! If there is another and a fairer -Lilith than the one whom I now behold, deny me not the grace of so -marvellous a vision! I am ready!—I fear nothing—to-night I could -face God Himself undismayed!” -</p> - -<p> -He paused abruptly—he knew not why. Something in the chill and solemn -look of Lilith’s face checked his speech. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith—Lilith!” he began again whisperingly—“Do I ask too much? -Surely not!—not if you love me! And you do love me—I feel, I know -you do!” -</p> - -<p> -There was a long pause,—Lilith might have been made of marble for all -the movement she gave. Her breathing was so light as to be scarcely -perceptible, and when she answered him at last, her voice sounded -strangely faint and far-removed. “Yes, I love you”—she said—“I love -you as I have loved you for a thousand ages, and as you have never -loved me. To win your love has been <i>my</i> task—to repel my love has -been <i>yours</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -He listened, smitten by a vague sense of compunction and regret. -</p> - -<p> -“But you have conquered, Lilith”—he answered—“yours is the victory. -And have I not surrendered, willingly, joyfully? O my beautiful -Dreamer, what would you have me do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Pray!” said Lilith, with a sudden passionate thrill in her -voice—“Pray! Repent!” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi drew himself backward from her couch, impatient and angered. -</p> - -<p> -“Repent!” he cried aloud—“And why should I repent? What have I done -that calls for repentance? For what sin am I to blame? For doubting a -God who, deaf to centuries upon centuries of human prayer and worship, -will not declare Himself? and for striving to perceive Him through the -cruel darkness by which we are surrounded? What crime can be -discovered there? The world is most infinitely sad,—and life is most -infinitely dreary,—and may I not strive to comfort those amid the -struggle who fain would ‘prove’ and hold fast to the things beyond? -Nay!—let the heavens open and cast forth upon me their fiery -thunderbolts, I will <i>not</i> repent! For, vast as my doubt is, so vast -would be my faith, if God would speak and say to His creatures but -once—‘Lo! I am here!’ Tortures of hell-pain would not terrify me, if -in the end His Being were made clearly manifest—a cross of endless -woe would I endure, to feel and see Him near me at the last, and more -than all, to make the world feel and see Him—to prove to wondering, -trembling, terror-stricken, famished, heart-broken human beings that -He exists,—that He is aware of their misery,—that He cares for them, -that it is all well for them,—that there <i>is</i> Eternal Joy hiding -itself somewhere amid the great star-thickets of this monstrous -universe—that we are not desolate atoms whirled by a blind fierce -Force into life against our will, and out of it again without a shadow -of reason or a glimmer of hope. Repent for such thoughts as these? I -will not! Pray to a God of such inexorable silence? I will not! No, -Lilith—my Lilith whom I snatched from greedy death—even you may fail -me at the last,—you may break your promise,—the promise that I -should see with mortal eyes your own Immortal Self—who can blame you -for the promise of a dream, poor child! You may prove yourself nothing -but woman; woman, poor, frail, weak, helpless woman to be loved and -cherished and pitied and caressed in all the delicate limbs, and -kissed in all the dainty golden threads of hair, and then—then—to be -laid down like a broken flower in the tomb that has grudged me your -beauty all this while,—all this may be, Lilith, and yet I will not -pray to an unproved God, nor repent of an unproved sin!” -</p> - -<p> -He uttered his words with extraordinary force and eloquence—one would -have thought he was addressing a multitude of hearers instead of that -one tranced girl, who, though beautiful as a sculptured saint on a -sarcophagus, appeared almost as inanimate, save for the slow parting -of her lips when she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -“O superb Angel of the Kingdom!” she murmured—“It is no marvel that -you fell!” -</p> - -<p> -He heard her, dimly perplexed; but strengthened in his own convictions -by what he had said, he was conscious of power,—power to defy, power -to endure, power to command. Such a sense of exhilaration and high -confidence had not possessed him for many a long day, and he was about -to speak again, when Lilith’s voice once more stole musically on the -silence. -</p> - -<p> -“You would reproach God for the world’s misery. Your complaint is -unjust. There is a Law,—a Law for the earth as for all worlds; and -God cannot alter one iota of that Law without destroying Himself and -His Universe. Shall all Beauty, all Order, all Creation come to an end -because wilful Man is wilfully miserable? Your world trespasses -against the Law in almost everything it does—hence its suffering. -Other worlds accept the Law and fulfil it,—and with them, all is -well.” -</p> - -<p> -“Who is to know this Law?” demanded El-Râmi impatiently. “And how can -the world trespass against what is not explained?” -</p> - -<p> -“It is explained;”—said Lilith—“The explanation is in every soul’s -inmost consciousness. You all know the Law and feel it—but knowing, -you ignore it. Men were intended by Law—God’s Law—to live in -brotherhood; but your world is divided into nations all opposed to -each other,—the result is Evil. There is a Law of Health, which men -can scarcely be forced to follow—the majority disobey it; again, the -result is Evil. There is a Law of ‘Enough’—men grasp more than -enough, and leave their brother with less than enough,—the result is -Evil. There is a Law of Love—men make it a Law of Lust,—the result -is Evil. All sin, all pain, all misery, are results of the Law’s -transgression,—and God cannot alter the Law, He Himself being part of -it and its fulfilment.” -</p> - -<p> -“And is Death also the Law?” asked El-Râmi—“Wise Lilith!—Death, -which concludes all things, both in Law and Order?” -</p> - -<p> -“There is no death,” responded Lilith—“I have told you so. What you -call by that name is Life.” -</p> - -<p> -“Prove it!” exclaimed El-Râmi excitedly, “Prove it, Lilith! Show me -Yourself! If there is another You than this beloved beauty of your -visible form, let me behold it, and then—then will I repent of -doubt,—then will I pray for pardon!” -</p> - -<p> -“You will repent indeed,”—said Lilith sorrowfully—“And you will pray -as children pray when first they learn ‘Our Father.’ Yes, I will come -to you; watch for me, O my erring Belovëd!—watch!—for neither my -love nor my promise can fail. But O remember that you are not -ready—that your will, your passion, your love, forces me hither ere -the time,—that, if I come, it is but to depart again—for ever!” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no!” cried El-Râmi desperately—“Not to depart, but to -remain!—to stay with me, my Lilith, my own—body and soul,—for -ever!” -</p> - -<p> -The last words sounded like a defiance flung at some invisible -opponent. He stopped, trembling—for a sudden and mysterious wave of -sound filled the room, like a great wind among the trees, or the last -grand chord of an organ-symphony. A chill fear assailed him,—he kept -his eyes fixed on the beautiful form of Lilith with a strained -eagerness of attention that made his temples ache. She grew paler and -paler,—and yet, ... absorbed in his intent scrutiny he could not move -or speak. His tongue seemed tied to the roof of his mouth,—he felt as -though he could scarcely breathe. All life appeared to hang on one -supreme moment of time, which like a point of light wavered between -earth and heaven, mortality and infinity. He,—one poor atom in the -vast Universe,—stood, audaciously waiting for the declaration of -God’s chiefest Secret. Would it be revealed at last?—or still -withheld? -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch37"> -XXXVII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">All</span> at once, while he thus closely watched her, Lilith, with a -violent effort, sat up stiffly erect and turned her head slowly -towards him. Her features were rigidly statuesque, and white as -snow,—the strange gaunt look of her face terrified him, but he could -not cry out or utter a word—he was stricken dumb by an excess of -fear. Only his black eyes blazed with an anguish of expectation,—and -the tension of his nerves seemed almost greater than he could endure. -</p> - -<p> -“In the great Name of God and by the Passion of Christ,”—said Lilith -solemnly, in tones that sounded far-off and faint and hollow—“do not -look at this Shadow of Me! Turn, turn away from this dust of Earth -which belongs to the Earth alone,—and watch for the light of Heaven -which comes from Heaven alone! O my love, my belovëd!—if you are -wise, if you are brave, if you are strong, turn away from beholding -this Image of Me, which is not Myself,—and look for me where the -roses are—there will I stand and wait!” -</p> - -<p> -As the last word left her lips she sank back on her pillows, inert, -and deathly pale; but El-Râmi, dazed and bewildered though he was, -retained sufficient consciousness to understand vaguely what she -meant,—he was not to look at her as she lay there,—he was to forget -that such a Lilith as he knew existed,—he was to look for another -Lilith there—“where the roses are.” Mechanically, and almost as if -some invisible power commanded and controlled his volition, he turned -sideways round from the couch, and fixed his gaze on the branching -flowers, which from the crystal vase that held them lifted their -pale-pink heads daintily aloft as though they took the lamp that swung -from the ceiling for some little new sun, specially invented for their -pleasure. Why,—there was nothing there ... “Nothing there!” he half -muttered with a beating heart, rubbing his eyes and staring hard -before him, ... nothing—nothing at all, but the roses themselves, and -... and ... yes!—a Light behind them!—a light that wavered round -them and began to stretch upward in wide circling rings! -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi gazed and gazed, ... saying over and over again to himself -that it was the reflection of the lamp, ... the glitter of that stray -moonbeam there, ... or something wrong with his own faculty of vision, -... and yet he gazed on, as though for the moment all his being were -made of eyes. The roses trembled and swayed to and fro delicately as -the strange Light widened and brightened behind their blossoming -clusters,—a light that seemed to palpitate with all the wondrous -living tints of the rising sun when it shoots forth its first golden -rays from the foaming green hollows of the sea. Upward, upward and -ever upward the deepening glory extended, till the lamp paled and grew -dimmer than the spark of a feeble match struck as a rival to a flash -of lightning,—and El-Râmi’s breath came and went in hard panting -gasps as he stood watching it in speechless immobility. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly, two broad shafts of rainbow luminance sprang, as it seemed, -from the ground, and blazed against the purple hangings of the room -with such a burning dazzle of prismatic colouring in every glittering -line that it was well-nigh impossible for human sight to bear it, and -yet El-Râmi would rather have been stricken stone-blind than move. -Had he been capable of thought, he might have remembered the beautiful -old Greek myths which so truthfully and frequently taught the lesson -that to look upon the purely divine meant death to the purely human; -but he could not think,—all his own mental faculties were for the -time rendered numb and useless. His eyes ached and smarted as though -red-hot needles were being plunged into them, but though he was -conscious of, he was indifferent to, the pain. His whole mind was -concentrated on watching the mysterious radiance of those wing-shaped -rays in the room,—and now ... now while he gazed, he began to -perceive an outline between the rays, ... a Shape, becoming every -second more and more distinct, as though some invisible heavenly -artist were drawing the semblance of Beauty in air with a pencil -dipped in morning-glory. ... O wonderful, ineffable Vision!—O -marvellous breaking-forth of the buds of life that are hid in the -quiet ether!—where, where in the vast wealth and reproduction of -deathless and delicate atoms, is the Beginning of things?—where the -End? ... -</p> - -<p> -Presently appeared soft curves, and glimmers of vapoury white flushed -with rose, suggestive of fire seen through mountain-mist,—then came a -glittering flash of gold that went rippling and ever rippling -backward, like the flowing fall of lovely hair; and the dim Shape grew -still more clearly visible, seeming to gather substance and solidity -from the very light that encircled it. Had it any human likeness? -Yes;—yet the resemblance it bore to humanity was so far away, so -exalted and ideal, as to be no more like our material form than the -actual splendour of the sun is like its painted image. The stature and -majesty and brilliancy of it increased,—and now the unspeakable -loveliness of a Face too fair for any mortal fairness began to suggest -itself dimly; ... El-Râmi, growing faint and dizzy, thought he -distinguished white outstretched arms, and hands uplifted in an -ecstasy of prayer;—nay,—though he felt himself half swooning in the -struggle he made to overcome his awe and fear, he would have sworn -that two star-like eyes, full-orbed and splendid with a radiant blue -as of Heaven’s own forget-me-nots, were turned upon him with a -questioning appeal, a hope, a supplication, a love beyond all -eloquence! ... But his strength was rapidly failing him;—unsupported -by faith, his mere unassisted flesh and blood could endure no more of -this supernatural sight, and ... all suddenly, ... the tension of his -nerves gave way, and morbid terrors shook his frame. A blind frenzied -feeling that he was sinking,—sinking out of sight and sense into a -drear profound, possessed him, and, hardly knowing what he did, he -turned desperately to the couch where Lilith, the Lilith he knew best, -lay, and looking,—— -</p> - -<p> -“Ah God!” he cried, pierced to the heart by the bitterest anguish he -had ever known,—Lilith—<i>his</i> Lilith was withering before his very -eyes! The exquisite Body he had watched and tended was shrunken and -yellow as a fading leaf,—the face, no longer beautiful, was gaunt and -pinched and skeleton-like—the lips were drawn in and blue,—and -strange convulsions shook the wrinkling and sunken breast! -</p> - -<p> -In one mad moment he forgot everything,—forgot the imperishable Soul -for the perishing Body,—forgot his long studies and high -ambitions,—and could think of nothing, except that this human -creature he had saved from death seemed now to be passing into death’s -long-denied possession,—and throwing himself on the couch he clutched -at his fading treasure with the desperation of frenzy. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith!—Lilith!” he cried hoarsely, the extremity of his terror -choking his voice to a smothered wild moan—“Lilith! My love, my idol, -my spirit, my saint! Come back!—come back!” -</p> - -<p> -And clasping her in his arms he covered with burning kisses the thin -peaked face—the shrinking flesh,—the tarnished lustre of the once -bright hair. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! Lilith!” he wailed, dry-eyed and fevered with agony—“Lilith, -I love you! Has love no force to keep you? Lilith, love Lilith! You -shall not leave me,—you are mine—mine! I stole you from death—I -kept you from God!—from all the furies of heaven and earth!—you -<i>shall</i> come back to me—I love you!” -</p> - -<p> -And lo! ... as he spoke the body he held to his heart grew warm,—the -flesh filled up and regained its former softness and roundness—the -features took back their loveliness—the fading hair brightened to its -wonted rich tint and rippled upon the pillows in threads of gold—the -lips reddened,—the eyelids quivered, the little hands, trembling -gently like birds’ wings, nestled round his throat with a caress that -thrilled his whole being and calmed the tempest of his grief as -suddenly as when of old the Master walked upon the raging sea of -Galilee and said to it “Peace, be still!” -</p> - -<p> -Yet this very calmness oppressed him heavily,—like a cold hand laid -on a fevered brow it chilled his blood even while it soothed his pain. -He was conscious of a sense of irreparable loss,—and moreover he felt -he had been a coward,—a coward physically and morally. For, instead -of confronting the Supernatural, or what seemed the Supernatural, -calmly, and with the inquisitorial research of a scientist, he had -allowed himself to be overcome by It, and had fled back to the -consideration of the merely human, with all the delirious speed of a -lover and fool. Nevertheless he had his Lilith—his own Lilith,—and, -holding her jealously to his heart, he presently turned his head -tremblingly and in doubt to where the roses nodded drowsily in their -crystal vase;—only the roses now were there! The marvellous Wingëd -Brightness had fled, and the place it had illumined seemed by contrast -very dark. The Soul,—the Immortal Self—had vanished;—the subtle -Being he had longed to see, and whose existence and capabilities he -had meant to “prove”; and he, who had consecrated his life and labour -to the attainment of this one object, had failed to grasp the full -solution of the mystery at the very moment when it might have been -his. By his own weakness he had lost the Soul,—by his own strength he -had gained the Body, or so he thought, and his mind was torn between -triumph and regret. He was not yet entirely conscious of what had -chanced to him—he could formulate no idea,—all he distinctly knew -was that he held Lilith, warm and living, in his arms, and that he -felt her light breath upon his cheek. -</p> - -<p> -“Love is enough!” he murmured, kissing the hair that lay in golden -clusters against his breast—“Waken, my Lilith!—waken!—and in our -perfect joy we will defy all gods and angels!” -</p> - -<p> -She stirred in his clasp,—he bent above her, eager, ardent, -expectant,—her long eyelashes trembled,—and then,—slowly, slowly, -like white leaves opening to the sun, the lids upcurled, disclosing -the glorious eyes beneath, eyes that had been closed to earthly things -for six long years,—deep, starry violet-blue eyes that shone with the -calm and holy lustre of unspeakable purity and peace,—eyes that in -their liquid softness held all the appeal, hope, supplication and -eloquent love, he had seen (or fancied he had seen) in the strange -eyes of the only half-visible Soul! The Soul indeed was looking -through its earthly windows for the last time, had he known it,—but -he did not know it. Raised to a giddy pinnacle of delight as suddenly -as he had been lately plunged into an abyss of grief and terror, he -gazed into those newly-opened wondrous worlds of mute expression with -all a lover’s pride, passion, tenderness and longing. -</p> - -<p> -“Fear nothing, Lilith!” he said—“It is I! I whose voice you have -answered and obeyed,—I, your lover and lord! It is I who claim you, -my belovëd!—I who bid you waken from death to life!” -</p> - -<p> -Oh, what a smile of dazzling rapture illumined her face!—it was as if -the sun in all his glory had suddenly broken out of a cloud to -brighten her beauty with his purest beams. Her childlike, innocent, -wondering eyes remained fixed upon El-Râmi,—lifting her white arms -languidly she closed them round about him with a gentle fervour that -seemed touched by compassion,—and he, thrilled to the quick by that -silent expression of tenderness, straightway ascended to a heaven of -blind, delirious ecstasy. He wanted no word from her ... what use of -words!—her silence was the perfect eloquence of love! All her beauty -was his own—his very own! ... he had willed it so,—and his will had -won its way,—the iron Will of a strong wise man without a God to help -him!—and all he feared was that he might die of his own excess of -triumph and joy! ... Hush! ... hush! ... Music again!—that same deep -sound as of the wind among trees, or the solemn organ-chord that -closes the song of departing choristers. It was strange,—very -strange!—but, though he heard, he scarcely heeded it; unearthly -terrors could not shake him now,—not now, while he held Lilith to his -heart, and devoured her loveliness with his eyes, curve by curve, line -by line, till with throbbing pulses, and every nerve tingling in his -body, he bent his face down to hers, and pressed upon her lips a long, -burning, passionate kiss! ... -</p> - -<p> -But, even as he did so, she was wrenched fiercely out of his hold by a -sudden and awful convulsion,—her slight frame writhed and twisted -itself away from his clasp with a shuddering recoil of muscular -agony—once her little hands clutched the air, ... and then, ... then, -the brief struggle over, her arms dropped rigidly at her sides, and -her whole body swerved and fell backward heavily upon the pillows of -the couch, stark, pallid and pulseless! ... And he,—he, gazing upon -her thus with a vague and stupid stare, wondered dimly whether he were -mad or dreaming? ... -</p> - -<p> -What ... what was this sudden ailment? ... this ... this strange -swoon? What bitter frost had stolen into <i>her</i> veins? ... what -insatiable hell-fire was consuming <i>his</i>? Those eyes, ... those just -unclosed, innocent lovely eyes of Lilith, ... was it possible, could -it be true that all the light had gone out of them?—gone, utterly -gone? And what was that clammy film beginning to cover them over with -a glazing veil of blankness? ... God! ... God! ... he must be in a -wild nightmare, he thought! ... he should wake up presently and find -all this seeming disaster unreal,—the fantastic fear of a sick brain -... the “clangour and anger of elements” imaginative, not actual, ... -and here his reeling terror found voice in a hoarse, smothered cry— -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! ... Lilith! ...” -</p> - -<p> -But stop, stop! ... was it Lilith indeed whom he thus called? ... -<i>That</i>? ... that gaunt, sunken, rigid form, growing swiftly hideous! -... yes—hideous, with those dull marks of blue discoloration coming -here and there on the no longer velvety fair skin! -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith! ... Lilith!” -</p> - -<p> -The name was lost and drowned in the wave of solemn music that rolled -and throbbed upon the air, and El-Râmi’s distorted mind, catching at -the dread suggestiveness of that unearthly harmony, accepted it as a -sort of invisible challenge. -</p> - -<p> -“What, good Death! brother Death, are you there?” he muttered -fiercely, shaking his clenched fist at vacancy—“Are you here, and are -you everywhere? Nay, we have crossed swords before now in desperate -combat ... and I have won! ... and I will win again! Hands off, rival -Death! Lilith is mine!” -</p> - -<p> -And, snatching from his breast a phial of the liquid with which he had -so long kept Lilith living in a trance, he swiftly injected it into -her veins, and forced some drops between her lips ... in vain ... in -vain! No breath came back to stir that silent breast—no sign whatever -of returning animation evinced itself, only ... at the expiration of -the few moments which generally sufficed the vital fluid for its -working, there chanced a strange and terrible thing. Wherever the -liquid had made its way, there the skin blistered, and the flesh -blackened, as though the whole body were being consumed by some fierce -inward fire; and El-Râmi, looking with strained wild eyes at this -destructive result of his effort to save, at last realised to the full -all the awfulness, all the dire agony of his fate! The Soul of Lilith -had departed for ever; ... even as the Cyprian monk had said, it had -outgrown its earthly tenement, ... its cord of communication with the -body had been mysteriously and finally severed,—and the Body itself -was crumbling into ashes before his very sight, helped into swifter -dissolution by the electric potency of his own vaunted “life-elixir”! -It was horrible ... horrible! ... was there <i>no</i> remedy? -</p> - -<p> -Staring himself almost blind with despair, he dashed the phial on the -ground, and stamped it under his heel in an excess of impotent fury, -... the veins in his forehead swelled with a fulness of aching blood -almost to bursting, ... he could do nothing, ... nothing! His science -was of no avail;—his Will,—his proud inflexible Will was “as a reed -shaken in the wind!” ... Ha! ... the old stock phrase! ... it had been -said before, in old times and in new, by canting creatures who -believed in Prayer. Prayer!—would it bring back beauty and vitality -to that blackening corpse before him? ... that disfigured, withering -clay he had once called Lilith! ... How ghastly It looked! ... -Shuddering violently he turned away,—turned,—to meet the grave sweet -eyes of the pictured Christ on the wall, ... to read again the words, -“<span class="sc">Whom say ye that I am</span>?” The letters danced before him in characters -of flame, ... there seemed a great noise everywhere as of clashing -steam-hammers and great church-bells,—the world was reeling round him -as giddily as a spun wheel. -</p> - -<p> -“Robber of the Soul of Lilith!” he muttered between his set -teeth—“Whoever you be, whether God or Devil, I will find you out! I -will pursue you to the uttermost ends of vast infinitude! I will -contest her with you yet, for surely she is mine! What right have you, -O Force Unknown, to steal my love from me? Answer me! prove yourself -God, as I prove myself Man! Declare <i>something</i>, O mute Inflexible! -<i>Do</i> something other than mechanically grind out a reasonless, -unexplained Life and Death for ever! O Lilith!—faithless Angel!—did -you not say that love was sweet?—and could not love keep you -here,—here, with me, your lover, Lilith?” -</p> - -<p> -Involuntarily and with cowering reluctance, his eyes turned again -towards the couch,—but now—now ... the horror of that decaying -beauty, interiorly burning itself away to nothingness, was more than -he could bear ... a mortal sickness seized him,—and he flung up his -arms with a desperate gesture as though he sought to drag down some -covering wherewith to hide himself and his utter misery. -</p> - -<p> -“Defeated, baffled, befooled!” he exclaimed frantically—“Conquered by -the Invisible and Invincible after all! Conquered! I! ... Who would -have thought it! Hear me, earth and heaven!—hear me, O rolling world -of human Wretchedness, hear me!—for I have proved a Truth! There <span class="sc">is</span> -a God!—a jealous God—jealous of the Soul of Lilith!—a God -tyrannical, absolute, and powerful—a God of infinite and inexorable -Justice. O God, I know you!—I own you—I meet you! I am part of you -as the worm is!—and you can change me, but you cannot destroy me! You -have done your worst,—you have fought against your own Essence in me, -till light has turned to darkness and love to bitterness;—you have -left me no help, no hope, no comfort; what more remains to do, O -terrible God of a million Universes! ... what more? Gone—gone is the -Soul of Lilith—but Where? Where in the vast Unknowable shall I find -my love again? ... Teach me <i>that</i>, O God! ... give me that one small -clue through the million million intricate webs of star-systems, and I -too will fall blindly down and adore an Imaginary Good in visible and -all-paramount Evil! ... I too will sacrifice reason, pride, wisdom and -power and become as a fool for Love’s sake! ... I too will grovel -before an unproved Symbol of Divinity as a savage grovels before his -stone fetish, ... I will be weak, not strong, I will babble prayers -with the children, ... only take me where Lilith is, ... bring me to -Lilith ... angel Lilith! ... love Lilith! ... my Lilith! ... ah God! -God! Have mercy ... mercy! ...” -</p> - -<p> -His voice broke suddenly in a sharp jarring shriek of delirious -laughter,—blood sprang to his mouth,—and with a blind movement of -his arms, as of one in thick darkness seeking light, he fell heavily -face forward, insensible on the couch where the Body he had loved, -deprived of its Soul, lay crumbling swiftly away into hideous -disfigurement and ashes. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch38"> -XXXVIII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<i><span class="sc">Awake</span>, Féraz! To-day dreams end, and Life begins.</i>” -</p> - -<p> -The words sounded so distinctly in his ears that the half-roused -Féraz turned drowsily on his pillows and opened his eyes, fully -expecting to see the speaker of them in his room. But there was no -one. It was early morning,—the birds were twittering in the outer -yard, and bright sunshine poured through the window. He had had a long -and refreshing sleep,—and sitting up in his bed he stretched himself -with a sense of refreshment and comfort, the while he tried to think -what had so mysteriously and unpleasantly oppressed him with -forebodings on the previous night. By and by he remembered the singing -voices in the air and smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“All my fancy of course!” he said lightly, springing up and beginning -to dash the fresh cold water of his morning bath over his polished -bronze-like skin, till all his nerves tingled with the pleasurable -sensation—“I am always hearing music of some sort or other. I believe -music is pent up in the air, and loosens itself at intervals like the -rain. Why not? There must be such a wealth of melody aloft,—all the -songs of all the birds,—all the whisperings of all the leaves;—all -the dash and rush of the rivers, waterfalls and oceans,—it is all in -the air, and I believe it falls in a shower sometimes and penetrates -the brains of musicians like Beethoven, Schumann and Wagner.” -</p> - -<p> -Amused with his own fantastic imaginings he hummed a tune <i>sotto voce</i> -as he donned his easy and picturesque attire,—then he left his room -and went to his brother’s study to set it in order for the day, as was -his usual custom. -</p> - -<p> -He opened the door softly and with caution, because El-Râmi often -slept there on the hard soldier’s couch that occupied one corner,—but -this morning all was exactly as it had been left at night,—the books -and papers were undisturbed,—and, curiously enough, the little -sanctum presented a vacant and deserted appearance, as though it would -dumbly express a fear that its master was gone from it for ever. How -such a notion suggested itself to Féraz, he could not tell,—but he -was certainly conscious of a strange sinking at the heart, as he -paused in the act of throwing open one of the windows, and looked -round the quiet room. Had anything been moved or displaced during the -night that he should receive such a general impression of utter -emptiness? Nothing—so far as he could judge;—there was his brother’s -ebony chair wheeled slightly aside from the desk,—there were the -great globes, terrestrial and celestial,—there were the various -volumes lately used for reference,—and, apart from these, on the -table, was the old vellum book in Arabic that Féraz had once before -attempted to read. It was open,—a circumstance that struck Féraz -with some surprise, for he could not recall having seen it in that -position last evening. Perhaps El-Râmi had come down in the night to -refer to it and had left it there by accident? Féraz felt he must -examine it more nearly, and, approaching, he rested his elbows on the -table and fixed his eyes on the Arabic page before him which was -headed in scrolled lettering “The Mystery of Death.” As he read the -words, a beautiful butterfly flew in through the open window and -circled joyously round his head, till, presently espying the bunch of -heliotrope in the glass where Féraz had set it the previous day, it -fluttered off to that, and settled on the scented purple bloom, its -pretty wings quivering with happiness. Mechanically Féraz watched its -flight,—then his eyes returned and dwelt once more on the -time-stained lettering before him; “The Mystery of Death,”—and -following the close lines with his forefinger, he soon made out the -ensuing passages. “The Mystery of Death. Whereas, of this there is no -mystery at all, as the ignorant suppose, but only a clearing up of -many intricate matters. When the body dies,—or to express it with -more pertinacious exactitude, when the body resolves itself into the -living organisms of which earth is composed, it is because the Soul -has outgrown its mortal habitation and can no longer endure the -cramping narrowness of the same. We speak unjustly of the aged, -because by their taciturnity and inaptitude for worldly business, they -seem to us foolish, and of a peevish weakness; it should however be -remembered that it is a folly to complain of the breaking of the husk -when the corn is ripe. In old age the Soul is weary of and indifferent -to earthly things, and makes of its tiresome tenement a querulous -reproach,—it has exhausted earth’s pleasures and surpassed earth’s -needs, and palpitates for larger movement. When this is gained, the -husk falls, the grain sprouts forth—the Soul is freed,—and all -Nature teaches this lesson. To call the process ‘death’ and a -‘mystery’ is to repeat the error of barbarian ages,—for once the Soul -has no more use for the Body, you cannot detain it,—you cannot -compress its wings,—you cannot stifle its nature,—and, being -Eternal, it demands Eternity.” -</p> - -<p> -“All that is true enough;”—murmured Féraz—“As true as any truth -possible, and yet people will not accept or understand it. All the -religions, all the preachers, all the teachers seem to avail them -nothing,—and they go on believing in death far more than in life. -What a sad and silly world it is!—always planning for itself and -never for God, and only turning to God in imminent danger like a -coward schoolboy who says he is sorry because he fears a whipping.” -</p> - -<p> -Here he lifted his eyes from the book, feeling that some one was -looking at him, and, true enough, there in the doorway stood Zaroba. -Her withered face had an anxious expression and she held up a warning -finger. -</p> - -<p> -“Hush! ...” she said whisperingly. ... “No noise! ... where is -El-Râmi?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz replied by a gesture, indicating that he was still upstairs at -work on his mysterious “experiment.” -</p> - -<p> -Zaroba advanced slowly into the room, and seated herself on the -nearest chair. -</p> - -<p> -“My mind misgives me;”—she said in low awe-stricken tones,—“My mind -misgives me; I have had dreams—<i>such</i> dreams! All night I have tossed -and turned,—my head throbs here,”—and she pressed both hands upon -her brow,—“and my heart—my heart aches! I have seen strange -creatures clad in white,—ghostly faces of the past have stared at -me,—my dead children have caressed me,—my dead husband has kissed me -on the lips,—a kiss of ice, freezing me to the marrow. What does it -bode? No good—no good!—but ill! Like the sound of the flying feet of -the whirlwind that brings death to the sons of the desert, there is a -sound in my brain which says—‘Sorrow! Sorrow!’ again and yet again -‘Sorrow!’” -</p> - -<p> -Sighing, she clasped her hands about her knees and rocked herself to -and fro, as though she were in pain. Féraz stood gazing at her -wistfully and with a somewhat troubled air,—her words impressed him -uncomfortably,—her very attitude suggested misery. The sunlight -beaming across her bent figure, flashed on the silver bangles that -circled her brown arms, and touched her rough gray hair to flecks of -brightness,—her black eyes almost hid themselves under their tired -drooping lids,—and when she ceased speaking her lips still moved as -though she inwardly muttered some weird incantation. Growing impatient -with her, he knew not why, the young man paced slowly up and down the -room; her deafness precluded him from speaking to her, and he just now -had no inclination to communicate with her in the usual way by -writing. And while he thus walked about, she continued her rocking -movement, and peered at him dubiously from under her bushy gray brows. -</p> - -<p> -“It is ill work meddling with the gods;”—she began again -presently—“In old time they were vengeful,—and have they changed -because the times are new? Nay, nay! The nature of a man may alter -with the course of his passions,—but the nature of a god!—who shall -make it otherwise than what it has been from the beginning? Cruel, -cruel are the ways of the gods when they are thwarted;—there is no -mercy in the blind eyes of Fate! To tempt Destiny is to ask the -thunderbolt to fall and smite you,—to oppose the gods is as though a -babe’s hand should essay to lift the Universe. Have I not prayed the -Master, the wise and the proud El-Râmi Zarânos, to submit and not -contend? As God liveth, I say, let us submit while we can like the -slaves that we are, for in submission alone is safety!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz heard her with increasing irritation,—why need she come to him -with all this melancholy jabbering, he thought angrily. He leaned far -out of the open window and looked at the ugly houses of the little -square,—at the sooty trees, the sparrows hopping and quarrelling in -the road, the tradesmen’s carts that every now and again dashed to and -from their various customers’ doors in the aggravatingly mad fashion -they affect, and tried to realise that he was actually in busy -practical London, and not, as seemed at the moment more likely, in -some cavern of an Eastern desert, listening to an ancient sibyl -croaking misfortune. Just then a neighbouring clock struck nine, and -he hastily drew in his head from the outer air, and, making language -with his eloquent fingers, he mutely asked Zaroba if she were going -upstairs now, or whether she meant to wait till El-Râmi himself came -down? -</p> - -<p> -She left off rocking to and fro, and half rose from her chair,—then -she hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“I have never waited”—she said—“before,—and why? Because the voice -of the Master has roused me from my deepest slumbers,—and, like a -finger of fire laid on my brain, his very thought has summoned my -attendance. But this morning no such voice has called,—no such -burning touch has stirred my senses,—how should I know what I must -do? If I go unbidden, will he not be angered?—and his anger works -like a poison in my blood! ... yet ... it is late, ... and his silence -is strange——” -</p> - -<p> -She paused, passing her hand wearily across her eyes,—then stood up, -apparently resolved. -</p> - -<p> -“I will obey the voices that whisper to me,”—she said, with a certain -majestic resignation and gravity—“The voices that cry to my heart -‘Sorrow! Sorrow!’ and yet again ‘Sorrow!’ If grief must come, then -welcome, grief!—one cannot gainsay the Fates. I will go hence and -prove the message of the air,—for the air holds invisible tongues -that do not lie.” -</p> - -<p> -With a slow step she moved across the room,—and on a sudden impulse -Féraz sprang towards her exclaiming, “Zaroba!—stay!”—then -recollecting she could not hear a word, he checked himself and drew -aside to let her pass, with an air of indifference which he was far -from feeling. He was in truth wretched and ill at ease,—the -exhilaration with which he had arisen from sleep had given way to -intense depression, and he could not tell what ailed him. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Awake, Féraz! To-day dreams end, and life begins.</i>” Those were the -strange words he had heard the first thing on awaking that -morning,—what could they mean, he wondered rather sadly? If dreams -were indeed to end, he would be sorry,—and if life, as mortals -generally lived it, were to begin for him, why then, he would be -sorrier still. Troubled and perplexed, he began to set the breakfast -in order, hoping by occupation to divert his thoughts and combat the -miserable feeling of vague dread which oppressed him, and which, -though he told himself how foolish and unreasonable it was, remained -increasingly persistent. All at once such a cry rang through the house -as almost turned his blood to ice,—a cry wild, despairing and full of -agony. It was repeated with piercing vehemence,—and Féraz, his heart -beating furiously, cleared the space of the room with one breathless -bound and rushed upstairs, there to confront Zaroba tossing her arms -distractedly and beating her breast like a creature demented. -</p> - -<p> -“Lilith!” she gasped,—“Lilith has gone ... gone! ... and El-Râmi is -dead!” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch39"> -XXXIX. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Pushing</span> the panic-stricken woman aside, Féraz dashed back the -velvet curtains, and for the second time in his life penetrated the -mysterious chamber. Once in the beautiful room, rich with its purple -colour and warmth, he stopped as though he were smitten with sudden -paralysis,—every artery in his body pulsated with terror,—it was -true! ... true that Lilith was no longer there! This was the first -astounding fact that bore itself in with awful conviction on his dazed -and bewildered mind;—the next thing he saw was the figure of his -brother, kneeling motionless by the vacant couch. Hushing his steps -and striving to calm his excitement, Féraz approached more nearly, -and throwing his arms round El-Râmi’s shoulders endeavoured to raise -him,—but all his efforts made no impression on that bent and rigid -form. Turning his eyes once more to the ivory blankness of the satin -couch on which the maiden Lilith had so long reclined, he saw with awe -and wonder the distinct impression of where her figure had been, -marked and hollowed out into deep curves and lines, which in their -turn were outlined by a tracing of fine grayish-white dust, like -sifted ashes. Following the track of this powdery substance, he still -more clearly discerned the impress of her vanished shape; and, -shuddering in every limb, he asked himself—Could that—that dust—be -all—all that was left of ... of Lilith? ... What dire tragedy had -been enacted during the night?—what awful catastrophe had chanced to -<i>her</i>—to <i>him</i>, his beloved brother, whom he strove once more to lift -from his kneeling position, but in vain. Zaroba stood beside him, -shivering, wailing, staring, and wringing her hands, till Féraz -dry-eyed and desperate, finding his own strength not sufficient, bade -her, by a passionate gesture, assist him. Trembling violently, she -obeyed, and between them both they at last managed to drag El-Râmi up -from the ground and get him to a chair, where Féraz chafed his hands, -bathed his forehead, and used every possible means to restore -animation. Did his heart still beat? Yes, feebly and irregularly;—and -presently one or two faint gasping sighs came from the labouring -breast. -</p> - -<p> -“Thank God!” muttered Féraz—“Whatever has happened, he lives!—Thank -God he lives! When he recovers, he will tell me all;—there can be no -secrets now between him and me.” -</p> - -<p> -And he resumed his quick and careful ministrations, while Zaroba still -wailed and wrung her hands, and stared miserably at the empty couch, -whereon her beautiful charge had lain, slumbering away the hours and -days for six long years. She too saw the little heaps and trackings of -gray dust on the pillows and coverlid, and her feeble limbs shook with -such terror that she could scarcely stand. -</p> - -<p> -“The gods have taken her!” she whispered faintly through her pallid -lips—“The gods are avenged! When did they ever have mercy! They have -claimed their own with the breath and the fire of lightning, and the -dust of a maiden’s beauty is no more than the dust of a flower! The -dreadful, terrible gods are avenged—at last ... at last!” -</p> - -<p> -And sinking down upon the floor, she huddled herself together, and -drew her yellow draperies over her head, after the Eastern manner of -expressing inconsolable grief, and covered her aged features from the -very light of day. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz heeded her not at all, his sole attention being occupied in the -care of his brother, whose large black eyes now opened suddenly and -regarded him with a vacant expression like the eyes of a blind man. A -great shudder ran through his frame,—he looked curiously at his own -hands as Féraz gently pressed and rubbed them,—and he stared all -round the room in vaguely-inquiring wonderment. Presently his -wandering glance came back to Féraz, and the vacancy of his -expression softened into a certain pleased mildness,—his lips parted -in a little smile, but he said nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“You are better, El-Râmi, my brother?” murmured Féraz caressingly, -trembling and almost weeping in the excess of his affectionate -anxiety, the while he placed his own figure so that it might obstruct -a too immediate view of Lilith’s vacant couch, and the covered -crouching form of old Zaroba beside it—“You have no pain? ... you do -not suffer?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi made no answer for the moment;—he was looking at Féraz with -a gentle but puzzled inquisitiveness. Presently his dark brows -contracted slightly, as though he were trying to connect some -perplexing chain of ideas,—then he gave a slight gesture of fatigue -and indifference. -</p> - -<p> -“You will excuse me, I hope,—” he then said with plaintive -courtesy—“I have forgotten your name. I believe I met you once, but I -cannot remember where.” -</p> - -<p> -The heart of poor Féraz stood still, ... a great sob rose in his -throat. But he checked it bravely,—he would not, he could not, he -dared not give way to the awful fear that began to creep like a frost -through his warm young blood. -</p> - -<p> -“You cannot remember Féraz?” he said gently—“Your own Féraz? ... -your little brother, to whom you have been life, hope, joy, -work—everything of value in the world!” Here his voice failed him, -and he nearly broke down. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi looked at him in grave surprise. -</p> - -<p> -“You are very good!” he murmured, with a feebly polite wave of his -hand;—“You overrate my poor powers. I am glad to have been useful to -you—very glad!” -</p> - -<p> -Here he paused;—his head sank forward on his breast, and his eyes -closed. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi!” cried Féraz, the hot tears forcing their way between his -eyelids—“Oh, my belovëd brother!—have you no thought for me?” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi opened his eyes and stared;—then smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“No thought?” he repeated—“Oh, you mistake!—I have thought very -much,—very much indeed, about many things. Not about you -perhaps,—but then I do not know you. You say your name is -Féraz,—that is very strange; it is not at all a common name. I only -knew one Féraz,—he was my brother, or seemed so for a time,—but I -found out afterwards, ... hush! ... come closer! ...” and he lowered -his voice to a whisper,—“that he was not a mortal, but an angel,—the -angel of a Star. The Star knew him better than I did.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz turned away his head,—the tears were falling down his -cheeks—he could not speak. He realised the bitter truth,—the -delicate overstrained mechanism of his brother’s mind had given way -under excessive pain and pressure,—that brilliant, proud, astute, -cold and defiant intellect was all unstrung and out of gear, and -rendered useless, perchance for ever. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi however seemed to have some glimmering perception of Féraz’s -grief, for he put out a trembling hand and turned his brother’s face -towards him with gentle concern. -</p> - -<p> -“Tears?” he said in a surprised tone—“Why should you weep? There is -nothing to weep for;—God is very good.” -</p> - -<p> -And with an effort, he rose from the chair in which he had sat, and -standing upright, looked about him. His eye at once lighted on the -vase of roses at the foot of the couch and he began to tremble -violently. Féraz caught him by the arm,—and then he seemed startled -and afraid. -</p> - -<p> -“She promised, ... she promised!” he began in an incoherent rambling -way—“and you must not interfere,—you must let me do her bidding. -‘Look for me where the roses are; there will I stand and wait!’ She -said that,—and she will wait, and I will look, for she is sure to -keep her word—no angel ever forgets. You must not hinder me;—I have -to watch and pray,—you must help me, not hinder me. I shall die if -you will not let me do what she asks;—you cannot tell how sweet her -voice is;—she talks to me and tells me of such wonderful -things,—things too beautiful to be believed, yet they are true. I -know so well my work;—work that must be done,—you will not hinder -me?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no!”—said Féraz, in anguish himself, yet willing to say -anything to soothe his brother’s trembling excitement—“No, no! You -shall not be hindered,—I will help you,—I will watch with you,—I -will pray ...” and here again the poor fellow nearly broke down into -womanish sobbing. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” said El-Râmi, eagerly catching at the word—“Pray! You will -pray—and so will I;—that is good,—that is what I need,—prayer, -they say, draws all Heaven down to earth. It is strange,—but so it -is. You know”—he added, with a faint gleam of intelligence lighting -up for a moment his wandering eyes—“Lilith is not here! Not here, nor -there, ... she is Everywhere!” -</p> - -<p> -A terrible pallor stole over his face, giving it almost the livid hue -of death,—and Féraz, alarmed, threw one arm strongly and resolutely -about him. But El-Râmi crouched and shuddered, and hid his eyes as -though he strove to shelter himself from the fury of a whirlwind. -</p> - -<p> -“Everywhere!” he moaned—“In the flowers, in the trees, in the winds, -in the sound of the sea, in the silence of the night, in the slow -breaking of the dawn,—in all these things is the Soul of Lilith! -Beautiful, indestructible, terrible Lilith! She permeates the world, -she pervades the atmosphere, she shapes and unshapes herself at -pleasure,—she floats, or flies, or sleeps at will;—in substance, a -cloud;—in radiance, a rainbow! She is the essence of God in the -transient shape of an angel—never the same, but for ever immortal. -She soars aloft—she melts like mist in the vast Unseen!—and I—I—I -shall never find her, never know her, never see her, never, never -again!” -</p> - -<p> -The harrowing tone of voice in which he uttered these words pierced -Féraz to the heart, but he would not give way to his own emotion. -</p> - -<p> -“Come, El-Râmi!” he said very gently—“Do not stay here,—come with -me. You are weak,—rest on my arm; you must try and recover your -strength,—remember, you have work to do.” -</p> - -<p> -“True, true!” said El-Râmi, rousing himself—“Yes, you are -right,—there is much to be done. Nothing is so difficult as patience. -To be left all alone, and to be patient, is very hard,—but I will -come,—I will come.” -</p> - -<p> -He suffered himself to be led towards the door,—then, all at once he -came to an abrupt standstill, and looking round, gazed full on the -empty couch where Lilith had so long been royally enshrined. A sudden -passion seemed to seize him—his eyes sparkled luridly,—a sort of -inward paroxysm convulsed his features, and he clutched Féraz by the -shoulder with a grip as hard as steel. -</p> - -<p> -“Roses and lilies and gold!” he muttered thickly—“They were all -there, those delicate treasures, those airy nothings of which God -makes woman! Roses for the features, lilies for the bosom, gold for -the hair!—roses, lilies, and gold! They were mine,—but I have burned -them all!—I have burned the roses and lilies, and melted the gold. -Dust!—dust and ashes! But the dust is not Lilith. No!—it is only the -dust of the roses, the dust of the lilies, the dust of gold. Roses, -lilies, and gold! So sweet they are and fair to the sight, one would -almost take them for real substance; but they are Shadows!—shadows -that pass as we touch them,—shadows that always go, when most we -would have them stay!” -</p> - -<p> -He finished with a deep shuddering sigh, and then, loosening his grasp -of Féraz, began to stumble his way hurriedly out of the apartment, -with the manner of one who is lost in a dense fog and cannot see -whither he is going. Féraz hastened to assist and support him, -whereupon he looked up with a pathetic and smiling gratefulness. -</p> - -<p> -“You are very good to me,” he said, with a gentle courtesy, which in -his condition was peculiarly touching—“I thought I should never need -any support;—but I was wrong—quite wrong,—and it is kind of you to -help me. My eyes are rather dim,—there was too much light among the -roses, ... and I find this place extremely dark, ... it makes me feel -a little confused <i>here</i>;”—and he passed his hand across his forehead -with a troubled gesture, and looked anxiously at Féraz, as though he -would ask him for some explanation of his symptoms. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes!” murmured Féraz soothingly—“You must be tired—you will -rest, and presently you will feel strong and well again. Do not -hurry,—lean on me,”—and he guided his brother’s trembling limbs -carefully down the stairs, a step at a time, thinking within himself -in deep sorrow—Could this be the proud El-Râmi, clinging to him thus -like a weak old man afraid to move? Oh, what a wreck was here!—what a -change had been wrought in the few hours of the past night!—and ever -the fateful question returned again and again to trouble him—What had -become of Lilith? That she was gone was self-evident,—and he gathered -some inkling of the awful truth from his brother’s rambling words. He -remembered that El-Râmi had previously declared Lilith to be <i>dead</i>, -so far as her body was concerned, and only kept <i>apparently</i> alive by -artificial means;—he could easily imagine it possible for those -artificial means to lose their efficacy in the end, ... and then, ... -for the girl’s beautiful body to crumble into that dissolution which -would have been its fate long ago, had Nature had her way. All this he -could dimly surmise,—but he had been kept so much in the dark as to -the real aim and intention of his brother’s “experiment” that it was -not likely he would ever understand everything that had occurred;—so -that Lilith’s mysterious evanishment seemed to him like a horrible -delusion;—it could not be! he kept on repeating over and over again -to himself, and yet it was! -</p> - -<p> -Moving with slow and cautious tread, he got El-Râmi at last into his -own study, wondering whether the sight of the familiar objects he was -daily accustomed to, would bring him back to a reasonable perception -of his surroundings. He waited anxiously, while his brother stood -still, shivering slightly and looking about the room with listless, -unrecognising eyes. Presently, in a voice that was both weary and -petulant, El-Râmi spoke. -</p> - -<p> -“You will not leave me alone, I hope?” he said; “I am very old and -feeble, and I have done you no wrong,—I do not see why you should -leave me to myself. I should be glad if you would stay with me a -little while, because everything is at present so strange to me;—I -shall no doubt get more accustomed to it in time. You are perhaps not -aware that I wished to live through a great many centuries—and my -wish was granted;—I have lived longer than any man, especially since -She left me,—and now I am growing old, and I am easily tired. I do -not know this place at all—is it a World or a Dream?” -</p> - -<p> -At this question, it seemed to Féraz that he heard again, like a -silver clarion ringing through silence, the mysterious voice that had -roused him that morning saying, “<i>Awake, Féraz! To-day dreams end, -and life begins!</i>” ... He understood, and he bent his head -resignedly,—he knew now what the “life” thus indicated meant;—it -meant a sacrificing of all his poetic aspirations, his music, and his -fantastic happy visions,—a complete immolation of himself and his own -desires, for the sake of his brother. His brother, who had once ruled -him absolutely, was now to be ruled <i>by</i> him;—helpless as a child, -the once self-sufficient and haughty El-Râmi was to be dependent for -everything upon the very creature who had lately been his slave,—and -Féraz, humbly reading in these reversed circumstances the Divine Law -of Compensation, answered his brother’s plaintive query—“Is it a -World or a Dream?” with manful tenderness. -</p> - -<p> -“It is a World,”—he said—“not a Dream, beloved El-Râmi—but a -Reality. It is a fair garden belonging to God and the things of -God”—he paused, seeing that El-Râmi smiled placidly and nodded his -head as though he heard pleasant music,—then he went on steadily—“a -garden in which immortal spirits wander for a time self-exiled, till -they fully realise the worth and loveliness of the higher lands they -have forsaken. Do you understand me, O dear and honoured one?—do you -understand? None love their home so dearly as those who have left it -for a time—and it is only for a time—a short, short time,”—and -Féraz, deeply moved by his mingled sorrow and affection, kissed and -clasped his brother’s hands—“and all the beauty we see here in this -beautiful small world, is made to remind us of the greater beauty -yonder. We look, as it were, into a little mirror, which reflects, in -exquisite miniature, the face of Heaven! See!”—and he pointed to the -brilliant blaze of sunshine that streamed through the window and -illumined the whole room—“There is the tiny copy of the larger Light -above,—and in that little light the flowers grow, the harvests ripen, -the trees bud, the birds sing, and every living creature -rejoices,—but in the other Greater Light, God lives, and angels love -and have their being;”—here Féraz broke off abruptly, wondering if -he might risk the utterance of the words that next rose involuntarily -to his lips, while El-Râmi gazed at him with great wide-open eager -eyes like those of a child listening to a fairy story. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes!—what next?” he demanded impatiently—“This is good news -you give me;—the angels love, you say, and God lives,—yes!—tell me -more, ... more!” -</p> - -<p> -“All angels love and have their being in that Greater -Light,”—continued Féraz softly and steadily—“And there too is -Lilith—beautiful—deathless,—faithful——” -</p> - -<p> -“True!” cried El-Râmi, with a sort of sobbing cry—“True! ... She is -there,—she promised—and I shall know, ... I shall know where to find -her after all, for she told me plainly—‘Look for me where the roses -are,—there will I stand and wait.’” -</p> - -<p> -He tottered, and seemed about to fall;—but when Féraz would have -supported him, he shook his head, and pointing tremblingly to the -amber ray of sunshine pouring itself upon the ground: -</p> - -<p> -“Into the light!”—he murmured—“I am all in the dark;—lead me out of -the darkness into the light.” -</p> - -<p> -And Féraz led him, where he desired, and seated him in his own chair -in the full glory of the morning radiance that rippled about him like -molten gold, and shone caressingly on his white hair,—his dark face -that in its great pallor looked as though it were carved in -bronze,—and his black, piteous, wandering eyes. A butterfly danced -towards him in the sparkling shower of sunbeams, the same that had -flown in an hour before and alighted on the heliotrope that adorned -the centre of the table. El-Râmi’s attention was attracted by it—and -he watched its airy flutterings with a pleased, yet vacant smile. Then -he stretched out his hands in the golden light, and lifting them -upward, clasped them together and closed his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Our Father!” ... he murmured; “which art in Heaven! ... Hallowed be -Thy Name!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz, bending heedfully over him, caught the words as they were -faintly whispered,—caught the hands as they dropped inert from their -supplicating posture and laid them gently back;—then listened again -with strained attention, the pitying tears gathering thick upon his -lashes. -</p> - -<p> -“Our Father!” ... once more that familiar appeal of kinship to the -Divine stole upon the air like a far-off sigh,—then came the sound of -regular and quiet breathing;—Nature had shed upon the overtaxed brain -her balm of blessed unconsciousness,—and like a tired child, the -proud El-Râmi slept. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch40"> -XL. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Upstairs</span> meanwhile, in the room that had been Lilith’s there reigned -the silence of a deep desolation. The woman Zaroba still crouched -there, huddled on the floor, a mere heap of amber draperies,—her head -covered, her features hidden. Now and then a violent shuddering seized -her,—but otherwise she gave no sign of life. Hours passed;—she knew -nothing, she thought of nothing; she was stupefied with misery and a -great inextinguishable fear. To her bewildered, darkly superstitious, -more than pagan mind, it seemed as if some terrible avenging angel had -descended in the night and torn away her beautiful charge out of sheer -spite and jealousy lest she should awake to the joys of earth’s life -and love. It had always been her fixed idea that the chief and most -powerful ingredient of the Divine character (and of the human also) -was jealousy; and she considered therefore that all women, as soon as -they were born, should be solemnly dedicated to the ancient goddess -Anaïtis. Anaïtis was a useful and accommodating deity, who in the -old days, had unlimited power to make all things pure. A woman might -have fifty lovers, and yet none could dare accuse her of vileness if -she were a “daughter” or “priestess” of Anaïtis. She might have been -guilty of any amount of moral enormity, but she was held to be the -chastest of virgins if Anaïtis were her protectress and mistress. And -so, in the eyes of Zaroba, Anaïtis was the true patroness of -love,—she sanctified the joys of lovers and took away from them all -imputation of sin; and many and many a time had the poor, ignorant, -heathenish old woman secretly invoked the protection of this almost -forgotten pagan goddess for the holy maiden Lilith. And now—now she -wondered tremblingly, if in this she had done wrong? ... More than for -anything in the world had she longed that El-Râmi, the “wise man” who -scoffed at passion with a light contempt, should love with a lover’s -wild idolatry the beautiful creature who was so completely in his -power;—in her dull, half-savage, stupid way, she had thought that -such a result of the long six years’ “experiment” could but bring -happiness to both man and maid; and she spared no pains to try and -foster the spark of mere interest which El-Râmi had for his “subject” -into the flame of a lover’s ardour. For this cause she had brought -Féraz to look upon the tranced girl, in order that El-Râmi knowing -of it, might feel the subtle prick of that perpetual motor, -jealousy,—for this she had said all she dared say, concerning love -and its unconquerable nature;—and now, just when her long-cherished -wish seemed on the point of being granted, some dreadful Invisible -Power had rushed in between the two, and destroyed Lilith with the -fire of wrath and revenge;—at any rate that was how she regarded it. -The sleeping girl had grown dear to her,—it war impossible not to -love such a picture of innocent, entrancing, ideal beauty,—and she -felt as though her heart had been torn open and its very core wrenched -out by a cruel and hasty hand. She knew nothing as yet of the fate -that had overtaken El-Râmi himself,—for as she could not hear a -sound of the human voice, she had only dimly seen that he was led from -the room by his young brother, and that he looked ill, feeble, and -distraught. What she realised most positively and with the greatest -bitterness, was the fact of Lilith’s loss,—Lilith’s evident -destruction. This was undeniable,—this was irremediable;—and she -thought of it till her aged brain burned as with some inward consuming -fire, and her thin blood seemed turning to ice. -</p> - -<p> -“Who has done it?” she muttered—“Who has claimed her? It must be the -Christ,—the cold, quiet, pallid Christ, with His bleeding hands and -beckoning eyes! He is a new god,—He has called, and she, Lilith, has -obeyed! Without love, without life, without aught in the world save -the lily-garb of untouched holiness,—it is what the pale Christ -seeks, and He has found it here,—here, with the child who slept the -sleep of innocent ignorance—here where no thought of passion ever -entered unless <i>I</i> breathed it,—or perchance he—El-Râmi—thought -it—unknowingly. O what a white flower for the Christ in Heaven, is -Lilith!—What a branch of bud and blossom! ... Ah, cruel, cold new -gods of the Earth!—how long shall their sorrowful reign endure! Who -will bring back the wise old gods,—the gods of the ancient days,—the -gods who loved and were not ashamed,—the gods of mirth and life and -health,—they would have left me Lilith,—they would have said—‘Lo, -how this woman is old and poor,—she hath lost all that she ever -had,—let us leave her the child she loves, albeit it is not her own -but ours;—we are great gods, but we are merciful!’ Oh, Lilith, -Lilith! child of the sun and air, and daughter of sleep! would I had -perished instead of thee!—Would I had passed away into darkness, and -thou been spared to the light!” -</p> - -<p> -Thus she wailed and moaned, her face hidden, her limbs quivering, and -she knew not how long she had stayed thus, though all the morning had -passed and the afternoon had begun. At last she was roused by the -gentle yet firm pressure of a hand on her shoulder, and, slowly -uncovering her drawn and anguished features she met the sorrowful eyes -of Féraz looking into hers. With a mute earnest gesture he bade her -rise. She obeyed, but so feebly and tremblingly, that he assisted her, -and led her to a chair, where she sat down, still quaking all over -with fear and utter wretchedness. Then he took a pencil and wrote on -the slate which his brother had been wont to use,— -</p> - -<p> -“A great trouble has come upon us. God has been pleased to so darken -the mind of the beloved El-Râmi, that he knows us no longer, and is -ignorant of where he is. The wise man has been rendered simple,—and -the world seems to him as it seems to a child who has everything in -its life to learn. We must accept this ordinance as the Will of the -Supreme, and bring our own will in accordance with it, believing the -ultimate intention to be for the Highest Good. But for his former -life, El-Râmi exists no more,—the mind that guided his actions then -is gone.” -</p> - -<p> -Slowly, and with pained, aching eyes Zaroba read these words,—she -grasped their purport and meaning thoroughly, and yet, she said not a -word. She was not surprised,—she was scarcely affected;—her feelings -seemed blunted or paralysed. El-Râmi was mad? To her, he had always -seemed mad,—with a madness born of terrible knowledge and power. To -be mad now was nothing; the loss of Lilith was amply sufficient cause -for his loss of wit. Nothing could be worse in her mind than to have -loved Lilith and lost her,—what was the use of uttering fresh cries -and ejaculations of woe! It was all over,—everything was ended,—so -far as she, Zaroba, was concerned. So she sat speechless,—her grand -old face rigid as bronze, with an expression upon it of stern -submission, as of one who waits immovably for more onslaughts from the -thunderbolts of destiny. -</p> - -<p> -Féraz looked at her very compassionately, and wrote again— -</p> - -<p> -“Good Zaroba, I know your grief. Rest—try to sleep. Do not see -El-Râmi to-day. It is better I should be alone with him. He is quite -peaceful and happy,—happier indeed than he has ever been. He has so -much to learn, he says, and he is quite satisfied. For to-day we must -be alone with our sorrows,—to-morrow we shall be able to see more -clearly what we must do.” -</p> - -<p> -Still Zaroba said nothing. Presently however she arose, and walked -totteringly to the side of Lilith’s couch, ... there with an -eloquently tragic gesture of supremest despair, she pointed to the -gray-white ashes that were spread in that dreadfully suggestive -outline on the satin coverlet and pillows. Féraz, shuddering, shut -his eyes for a moment;—then, as he opened them again, he saw, -confronting him, the uncurtained picture of the “Christ and His -Disciples.” He remembered it well,—El-Râmi had bought it long ago -from among the despoiled treasures of an old dismantled -monastery,—and besides being a picture it was also a reliquary. He -stepped hastily up to it and felt for the secret spring which used, he -knew, to be there. He found and pressed it,—the whole of the picture -flew back like a door on a hinge, and showed the interior to be a -Gothic-shaped casket, lined with gold, at the back of which was -inserted a small piece of wood, supposed to have been a fragment of -the “True Cross.” There was nothing else in the casket,—and Féraz -leaving it open, turned to Zaroba who had watched him with dull, -scarcely comprehending eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Gather together these sacred ashes,”—he wrote again on the -slate,—“and place them in this golden recess,—it is a holy place fit -for such holy relics. El-Râmi would wish it, I know, if he could -understand or wish for anything,—and wherever we go, the picture will -go with us, for one day perhaps he will remember, ... and ask, ...” -</p> - -<p> -He could trust himself to write no more,—and stood sadly enrapt, and -struggling with his own emotion. -</p> - -<p> -“The Christ claims all!” muttered Zaroba wearily, resorting to her old -theme—“The crucified Christ, ... He must have all; the soul, the -body, the life, the love, the very ashes of the dead,—He must have -all ... all!” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz heard her,—and taking up his pencil once more, wrote swiftly— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“You are right,—Christ has claimed Lilith. She was His to claim,—for -on this earth we are all His,—He gave His very life to make us so. -Let us thank God that we <i>are</i> thus claimed,—for with Christ all -things are well.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -He turned away then immediately, and left her alone to her task,—a -task she performed with groans and trembling, till every vestige of -the delicate ashes, as fine as the dust of flowers, was safely and -reverently placed in its pure golden receptacle. Strange to say, one -very visible relic of the vanished Lilith’s bodily beauty had somehow -escaped destruction,—this was a long, bright waving tress of hair -which lay trembling on the glistening satin of the pillows like a lost -sunbeam. Over this lovely amber curl, old Zaroba stooped yearningly, -staring at it till her tears, the slow, bitter scalding tears of age, -fell upon it where it lay. She longed to take it for herself,—to wear -it against her own heart,—to kiss and cherish it as though it were a -living, sentient thing,—but, thinking of El-Râmi, her loyalty -prevailed, and she tenderly lifted the clinging, shining, soft silken -curl, and laid it by with the ashes in the antique shrine. All was now -done,—and she shut to the picture, which, when once closed, showed no -sign of any opening. -</p> - -<p> -Lilith was gone indeed;—there was now no perceptible evidence to show -that she had ever existed. And, to the grief-stricken Zaroba, the face -and figure of the Christ, as painted on the reliquary at which she -gazed, seemed to assume a sudden triumph and majesty which appalled -while it impressed her. She read the words “Whom Say Ye That I Am?” -and shuddered; this “new god” with His tranquil smile and sorrowful -dignity had more terrors for her than any of the old pagan deities. -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot! I cannot!” she whispered feebly; “I cannot take you to my -heart, cold Christ,—I cannot think it is good to wear the thorns of -perpetual sorrow! You offer no joy to the sad and weary world,—one -must sacrifice one’s dearest hopes,—one must bear the cross and weep -for the sins of all men, to be at all acceptable to You! I am old—but -I keep the memories of joy; I would not have all happiness reft out of -the poor lives of men. I would have them full of mirth,—I would have -them love where they list, drink pure wine, and rejoice in the breath -of Nature,—I would have them feast in the sunlight and dance in the -moonbeams, and crown themselves with the flowers of the woodland and -meadow, and grow ruddy and strong and manful and generous, and -free—free as the air! I would have their hearts bound high for the -pleasure of life;—not break in a search for things they can never -win. Ah no, cold Christ! I cannot love you!—at the touch of your -bleeding Hand the world freezes like a starving bird in a storm of -snow;—the hearts of men grow weak and weary, and of what avail is it, -O Prince of Grief, to live in sadness all one’s days for the hope of a -Heaven that comes not? O Lilith!—child of the sun, where art -thou?—Where? Never to have known the joys of love,—never to have -felt the real pulse of living,—never to have thrilled in a lover’s -embrace,—ah, Lilith, Lilith! Will Heaven compensate thee for such -loss? ... Never, never, never! No God, were He all the worlds’ gods in -One, can give aught but a desolate Eden to the loveless and lonely -soul!” -</p> - -<p> -In such wise as this, she muttered and moaned all day long, never -stirring from the room that was called Lilith’s. Now and then she -moved up and down with slow restlessness,—sometimes fixing eager eyes -upon the vacant couch, with the vague idea that perhaps Lilith might -come back to it as suddenly as she had fled; and sometimes pausing by -the vase of roses, and touching their still fragrant, but fast-fading -blossoms. Time went on, and she never thought of breaking her fast, or -going to see how her master, El-Râmi, fared. His mind was gone—she -understood that well enough,—and in a strange wild way of her own, -she connected this sudden darkening of his intellect with the equally -sudden disappearance of Lilith; and she dreaded to look upon his face. -</p> - -<p> -How the hours wore away she never knew; but by and by her limbs began -to ache heavily, and she crouched down upon the floor to rest. She -fell into a heavy stupor of unconsciousness,—and when she awoke at -last, the room was quite dark. She got up, stiff and cold and -terrified,—she groped about with her hands,—it seemed to her dazed -mind that she was in some sepulchral cave in the desert, all alone. -Her lips were dry,—her head swam,—and she tottered along, feeling -her way blindly, till she touched the velvet <i>portière</i> that divided -the room from its little antechamber, and, dragging this aside in -nervous haste, she stumbled through, and out on to the landing, where -it was light. The staircase was before her,—the gas was lit in the -hall—and the house looked quite as usual,—yet she could not in the -least realise where she was. Indistinct images floated in her -brain,—there were strange noises in her ears,—and she only dimly -remembered El-Râmi, as though he were some one she had heard of long -ago, in a dream. Pausing on the stair-head, she tried to collect her -scattered senses,—but she felt sick and giddy, and her first instinct -was to seek the air. Clinging to the banisters, she tottered down the -stairs slowly, and reached the front-door, and, fumbling cautiously -with the handle a little while, succeeded in turning it, and letting -herself out into the street. The door had a self-acting spring, and -shut to instantly, and almost noiselessly, behind her,—but Féraz, -sitting in the study with his brother, fancied he heard a slight -sound, and came into the hall to see what it was. Finding everything -quiet, he concluded he was mistaken, and went back to his post beside -El-Râmi, who had been dozing nearly all day, only waking up now and -again to mildly accept the nourishment of soup and wine which Féraz -prepared and gave him to keep up his strength. He was perfectly -tranquil, and talked at times quite coherently of simple things, such -as the flowers on the table, the lamp, the books, and other ordinary -trifles. He only seemed a little troubled by his own physical -weakness,—but when Féraz assured him he would soon be strong, he -smiled, and with every appearance of content, dozed off again -peacefully. In the evening, however, he grew a little restless,—and -then Féraz tried what effect music would have upon him. Going to the -piano, he played soft and dreamy melodies, ... but as he did so, a -strange sense of loss stole over him,—he had the mechanism of the -art, but the marvellously delicate attunement of his imagination had -fled! Tears rose in his eyes,—he knew what was missing,—the -guiding-prop of his brother’s wondrous influence had fallen,—and with -a faint terror he realised that much of his poetic faculty would -perish also. He had to remember that he was not <i>naturally</i> born a -poet or musician,—poesy and music had been El-Râmi’s fairy gifts to -him—the exquisitely happy poise of his mind had been due to his -brother’s daily influence and control. He would still retain the habit -and the memory of art, but what had been Genius, would now be simple -Talent,—no more,—yet what a difference between the two! Nevertheless -his touch on the familiar ivory keys was very tender and delicate, and -when, distrusting his own powers of composition, he played one of the -softest and quaintest of Grieg’s Norwegian folk-songs, he was more -than comforted by the expression of pleasure that illumined El-Râmi’s -features, and by the look of enraptured peace that softened the -piteous dark eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“It is quite beautiful,—that music!” he murmured—“It is the pretty -sound the daisies make in growing.” -</p> - -<p> -And he leaned back in his chair and composed himself to rest,—while -Féraz played on softly, thinking anxiously the while. True, most -true, that for him dreams had ended, and life had begun! What was he -to do? ... how was he to meet the daily needs of living,—how was he -to keep himself and his brother? His idea was to go at once to the -monastery in Cyprus, where he had formerly been a visitor,—it was -quiet and peaceful,—he would ask the brethren to take them in,—for -he himself detested the thought of a life in the world,—it was -repellent to him in every way,—and El-Râmi’s affliction would -necessitate solitude. And while he was thus puzzling himself as to the -future, there came a sharp knock at the door,—he hastened to see who -it was,—and a messenger handed him a telegram addressed to himself. -It came from the very place he was thinking about, sent by the Head of -the Order, and ran thus— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“We know all. It is the Will of God. Bring El-Râmi here,—our house -is open to you both.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p> -He uttered a low exclamation of thankfulness, the while he wondered -amazedly how it was that they, that far-removed Brotherhood, “knew -all”! It was very strange! He thought of the wondrous man whom he -called the “Master,” and who was understood to be “wise with the -wisdom of the angels,” and remembered that he was accredited with -being able to acquire information when he chose, by swift and -supernatural means. That he had done so in the present case seemed -evident, and Féraz stood still with the telegram in his hand, -stricken by a vague sense of awe as well as gratitude, thinking also -of the glittering vision he had had of that “glory of the angels in -the south”;—angels who were waiting for Lilith the night she -disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi suddenly opened his weary eyes and looked at him. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it?” he asked faintly—“Why has the music ceased?” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz went up to his chair and knelt down beside it. -</p> - -<p> -“You shall hear it again”—he said gently, “But you must sleep now, -and get strong,—because we are soon going away on a journey—a far, -beautiful journey——” -</p> - -<p> -“To Heaven?” inquired El-Râmi—“Yes, I know—it is very far.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz sighed. -</p> - -<p> -“No—not to Heaven,”—he answered—“Not yet. We shall find out the way -there, afterwards. But in the meantime, we are going to a place where -there are fruits and flowers,—and where the sun is very bright and -warm. You will come with me, will you not, El-Râmi?—there are -friends there who will be glad to see you.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have no friends,”—said El-Râmi plaintively, “unless you are one. -I do not know if you are,—I hope so, but I am not sure. You have an -angel’s face,—and the angels have not always been kind to me. But I -will go with you wherever you wish,—is it a place in this world, or -in some other star?” -</p> - -<p> -“In this world,”—replied Féraz—“A quiet little corner of this -world.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” and El-Râmi sighed profoundly—“I wish it had been in another. -There are so many millions and millions of worlds;—it seems foolish -waste of time to stay too long in this.” -</p> - -<p> -He closed his eyes again, and Féraz let him rest,—till, when the -hour grew late, he persuaded him to lie down on his own bed, which he -did with the amiable docility of a child. Féraz himself, half -sitting, half reclining in a chair beside him, watched him all night -long, like a faithful dog guarding its master,—and so full was he of -anxious thought and tender care for his brother, that he scarcely -remembered Zaroba, and when he did, he felt sure that she too was -resting, and striving to forget in sleep the sorrows of the day. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch41"> -XLI. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Zaroba</span> had indeed forgotten her sorrows; but not in slumber, as -Féraz hoped and imagined. Little did he think that she was no longer -under the roof that had sheltered her for so many years; little could -he guess that she was out wandering all alone in the labyrinth of the -London streets,—a labyrinth of which she was almost totally ignorant, -having hardly ever been out of doors since El-Râmi had brought her -from the East. True, she had occasionally walked in the little square -opposite the house, and in a few of the streets adjoining,—once or -twice in Sloane Street itself, but no farther, for the sight of the -hurrying, pushing, busy throngs of men and women confused her. She had -not realised what she was doing when she let herself out that -night,—only when the street-door shut noiselessly upon her she was -vaguely startled,—and a sudden sense of great loneliness oppressed -her. Yet the fresh air blowing against her face was sweet and -balmy,—it helped to relieve the sickness at her heart, the dizziness -in her brain,—and she began to stroll along, neither knowing nor -caring whither she was going,—chiefly impelled by the strong -necessity she felt for movement,—space,—liberty. It had seemed to -her that she was being suffocated and buried alive in the darkness and -desolation that had fallen on the chamber of Lilith;—here, out in the -open, she was free,—she could breathe more easily. And so she went -on, almost unseeingly—the people she met looked to her like the -merest shadows. Her quaint garb attracted occasional attention from -some of the passers-by,—but her dark fierce face and glittering eyes -repelled all those who might have been inquisitive enough to stop and -question her. She drifted errantly, yet safely, through the jostling -crowds like a withered leaf on the edge of a storm,—her mind was -dazed with grief and fear and long fasting, but now and then as she -went, she smiled and seemed happy. Affliction had sunk so deep within -her, that it had reached the very core and centre of imagination and -touched it to vague issues of discordant joy;—wherefore, persuaded by -the magic music of delusion, she believed herself to be at home again -in her native Egypt. She fancied she was walking in the desert;—the -pavement seemed hot to her feet and she took it for the burning -sand,—and when after long and apparently interminable wanderings, she -found herself opposite Nelson’s column in Trafalgar Square, she stared -at the four great lions with stupefied dismay. -</p> - -<p> -“It is the gate of a city,”—she muttered—“and at this hour the -watchmen are asleep. I will go on—on still farther,—there must be -water close by, else there would be no city built.” -</p> - -<p> -She had recovered a certain amount of physical strength in the -restorative influence of the fresh air, and walked with a less feeble -tread,—she became dimly conscious too of there being a number of -people about, and she drew her amber-coloured draperies more closely -over her head. It was a beautiful night;—the moon was full and -brilliant, and hundreds of pleasure-seekers were moving hither and -thither,—there was the usual rattle and roar of the vehicular traffic -of the town which, it must be remembered, Zaroba did not hear. Neither -did she clearly see anything that was taking place around her,—for -her sight was blurred, and the dull confusion in her brain continued. -She walked as in a dream,—she felt herself to be in a dream;—the -images of El-Râmi, of the lost Lilith, of the beautiful young Féraz, -had faded away from her recollection,—and she was living in the early -memories of days long past,—days of youth and hope and love and -promise. No one molested her; people in London are so accustomed to -the sight of foreigners and foreign costumes, that so long as they are -seen walking on their apparent way peaceably, they may do so in any -garb that pleases them, provided it be decent, without attracting much -attention save from a few small and irreverent street-arabs. And even -the personal and pointed observations of these misguided youngsters -fail to disturb the dignity of a Parsee in his fez, or to ruffle the -celestial composure of a Chinaman in his slippers. Zaroba, moreover, -did not present such a markedly distinctive appearance,—in her yellow -wrapper and silver bangles, she only looked like one of the <i>ayahs</i> -brought over from the East with the children of Anglo-Indian -mothers,—and she passed on uninterruptedly, happily deaf to the -noises around her, and almost blind to the ever-shifting human -pageantry of the busy thoroughfares. -</p> - -<p> -“The gates of the city,” she went on murmuring—“they are shut, and -the watchmen are asleep. There must be water near,—a river or a place -of fountains, where the caravans pause to rest.” -</p> - -<p> -Now and then the glare of the lights in the streets troubled her,—and -then she would come to a halt and pass her hands across her eyes,—but -this hesitation only lasted a minute,—and again she continued on her -aimless way. The road widened out before her,—the buildings grew -taller, statelier, and more imposing,—and suddenly she caught sight -of what she had longed for,—the glimmering of water silvering itself -in the light of the moon. -</p> - -<p> -She had reached the Embankment;—and a sigh of satisfaction escaped -her, as she felt the damp chillness of the wind from the river blowing -against her burning forehead. The fresh coolness and silence soothed -her,—there were few people about,—and she slackened her pace -unconsciously, and smiled as she lifted her dark face to the clear and -quiet sky. She was faint and weary,—light-headed from want of -food,—but she was not conscious of this any more than a fever-patient -is conscious of his own delirium. She walked quite steadily now,—in -no haste, but with the grave, majestic step that belongs peculiarly to -women of her type and race,—her features were perfectly composed, and -her eyes very bright. And now she looked always at the river, and saw -nothing else for a time but its rippling surface lit up by the moon. -</p> - -<p> -“They have cut down the reeds”—she said, softly under her -breath,—“and the tall palms are gone,—but the river is always the -same,—they cannot change that. Nothing can dethrone the Nile-god, or -disturb his sleep among the lilies, down towards the path of the -sunset. Here I shall meet my belovëd again,—here by the banks of the -Nile;—yet, it is strange and cruel that they should have cut down the -reeds. I remember how softly they rustled with the movements of the -little snakes that lived in the golden sand,—yes!—and the palm-trees -were high—so high that their feathery crowns seemed to touch the -stars. It was Egypt then,—and is it not Egypt now? -Yes—surely—surely it is Egypt!—but it is changed—changed,—all is -changed except love! Love is the same for ever, and the heart beats -true to the one sweet tune. Yes, we shall meet,—my belovëd and -I,—and we shall tell one another how long the time has seemed since -we parted yesterday. Only yesterday!—and it seems a century,—a long -long century of pain and fear, but the hours have passed, and the -waiting is over——” -</p> - -<p> -She broke off abruptly, and stood suddenly still;—the Obelisk faced -her. Cut sharp and dark against the brilliant sky the huge -“Cleopatra’s Needle” towered solemnly aloft, its apex seeming to point -directly at a cluster of stars above it. Something there was in its -weird and frowning aspect, that appealed strangely to Zaroba’s -wandering intelligence,—she gazed at it with eager, dilated eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“To the memory of heroes!” she said whisperingly, with a slight proud -gesture of her hand,—“To the glory of the Dead! Salutation to the -great gods and crowned Kings! Salutation and witness to the world of -what Hath Been! The river shall find a tongue—the shifting sands -shall uphold the record, so that none shall forget the things that -Were! For the things that Are, being weak, shall perish,—but the -things that Were, being strong, shall endure for ever! Here, as God -liveth, is the meeting-place; the palms are gone, but the Nile flows -on, and the moon is the sunlight of lovers. Here will I wait for my -belovëd,—he knows the appointed hour, ... he will not be long!” -</p> - -<p> -She sat down, as close to the Obelisk as she could get, her face -turned towards the river and the moonlight; and the clocks of the -great city around her slowly tolled eleven. Her head dropped forward -on her chest,—though after a few minutes she lifted her face with an -anxious look—and,—“Did the child call me?” she said, and listened. -Then she relapsed into her former sunken posture, ... once a strong -shuddering shook her limbs as of intense cold in the warm June night, -... and then she was quite still ... -</p> - -<p> -The hours passed on,—midnight came and went,—but she never stirred. -She seemed to belong to the Obelisk and its attendant sphinxes,—so -rigid was her figure, so weird in its outline, so solemn in its -absolute immobility. ... And in that same attitude she was found later -on towards morning, stone dead. There was no clue to her -identity,—nothing about her that gave any hint as to her possible -home or friends; her statuesque old face, grander than ever in the -serene pallor of death, somewhat awed the two burly policemen who -lifted her stark body and turned her features to the uncertain light -of early dawn, but it told them no history save that of age and -sorrow. So, in the sad chronicles entitled “Found Dead,” she was -described as “a woman unknown, of foreign appearance and costume, -seemingly of Eastern origin,”—and, after a day or two, being -unrecognised and unclaimed, she was buried in the usual way common to -all who perish without name and kindred in the dreary wilderness of a -great city. Féraz, missing her on the morning after her -disappearance, searched for her everywhere as well as he knew -how,—but, as he seldom read the newspapers, and probably would not -have recognised the brief account of her there if he had,—and as, -moreover, he knew nothing about certain dreary buildings in London -called mortuaries, where the bodies of the drowned, and murdered, and -unidentified, lie for a little while awaiting recognition, he remained -in complete and bewildered ignorance of her fate. He could not imagine -what had become of her, and he almost began to believe that she must -have taken ship back to her native land,—and that perhaps he might -hear of her again some day. And truly, she had gone back to her native -land,—in fancy;—and truly, it was also possible she might be met -with again some day,—in another world than this. But in the meantime -she had died,—as best befitted a servant of the old gods,—alone, and -in uncomplaining silence. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch42"> -XLII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">The</span> hair’s-breadth balance of a Thought,—the wrong or right control -of Will;—on these things hang the world, life, time, and all -Eternity. Such slight threads!—imperceptible, ungraspable,—and yet -withal strong,—strong enough to weave the everlasting web of good or -evil, joy or woe. On some such poise, as fine, as subtly delicate, the -whole majestic Universe swings round in its appointed course,—never a -pin’s point awry, never halting in its work, never hesitating in the -fulfilment of its laws, carrying out the Divine command with faithful -exactitude and punctuality. It is strange,—mournfully strange,—that -we never seem able to learn the grand lessons that are taught us by -this unvarying routine of natural forces,—Submission, Obedience, -Patience, Resignation, Hope. Preachers preach the doctrine,—teachers -teach it,—Nature silently and gloriously manifests it hourly; but -we,—we continue to shut our ears and eyes,—we prefer to retreat -within ourselves,—our little incomplete ignorant selves,—thinking we -shall be able to discover some way out of what has no egress, by the -cunning arguments of our own finite intellectual faculties. We fail -always;—we must fail. We are bound to find out sooner or later that -we must bend our stubborn knees in the presence of the Positive -Eternal. But till the poor brain gives way under the prolonged -pressure and strain of close inquiry and analysis, so long will it -persist in attempting to probe the Impenetrable,—so long will it -audaciously attempt to lift the veil that hides the Beyond instead of -resting content with what Nature teaches. “Wait”—she says—“Wait till -you are mentally able to understand the Explanation. Wait till the -Voice which is as a silver clarion, proclaims all truth, saying -‘Awake, Soul, for thy dream is past! Look now and see,—for thou art -strong enough to bear the Light.’” -</p> - -<p> -Alas! we will not wait,—hence our life in these latter days of -analysis is a mere querulous complaint, instead of what it should be, -a perpetual thanksgiving. -</p> - -<p> -Four seasons have passed away since the “Soul of Lilith” was caught up -into its native glory,—four seasons,—summer, autumn, winter and -spring—and now it is summer again,—summer in the Isle of Cyprus, -that once most sacred spot, dear to historic and poetic lore. Up among -the low olive-crowned hills of Baffo or Paphos, there is more shade -and coolness than in other parts of the island, and the retreat -believed to have been the favourite haunt of Venus is still full of -something like the mystical glamour that hallowed it of old. As the -singer of “Love-Letters of a Violinist” writes: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“There is a glamour all about the bay</p> -<p class="i1">As if the nymphs of Greece had tarried here.</p> -<p class="i1">The sands are golden and the rocks appear</p> -<p class="i0">Crested with silver; and the breezes play</p> -<p class="i0">Snatches of song they hummed when far away,</p> -<p class="i1">And then are hush’d as if from sudden fear.”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -Flowers bloom luxuriantly, as though the white, blue-veined feet of -the goddess had but lately passed by,—there is a suggestive harmony -in the subdued low whispering of the trees, accompanied by the gentle -murmur of the waves, and “Hieros Kiphos,” or the Sacred Grove, still -bends its thick old boughs caressingly towards the greensward as -though to remind the dreaming earth of the bygone glories here buried -deep in its silent bosom. The poor fragment of the ruined “Temple of -Venus” once gorgeous with the gold and precious stones, silks and -embroideries, and other offerings brought from luxury-loving Tyre, -stands in its desolation among the quiet woods, and no sound of -rejoicing comes forth from its broken wall to stir the heated air. Yet -there is music not far off,—the sweet and solemn music of an organ -chant, accompanying a chorus of mild and mellow voices singing the -“Agnus Dei.” Here in this part of the country, the native inhabitants -are divided in their notions of religious worship,—they talk Greek, -albeit modern Greek, with impurities which were unknown to the -sonorous ancient tongue, and they are heroes no more, as the heroic -Byron has told us in his superb poesy, but simply slaves. They but -dimly comprehend Christianity,—the joyous paganism of the past is not -yet extinct, and the Virgin Mother of Christ is here adored as -“Aphroditissa.” Perhaps in dirty Famagousta they may be more -orthodox,—but among these sea-fronting hills where the sound of the -“Agnus Dei” solemnly rises and falls in soft surges of harmony, it is -still the old home of the Queen of Beauty, and still the birthplace of -Adonis, son of a Cyprian King. Commercial England is now the possessor -of this bower of sweet fancies,—this little corner of the world -haunted by a thousand poetic memories,—and in these prosy days but -few pilgrimages are made to a shrine that was once the glory of a -glorious age. To the native Cypriotes themselves the gods have simply -changed their names and become a little sadder and less playful, that -is all,—and to make up for the lost “Temple of Venus” there is, -hidden deep among the foliage, a small monastic retreat with a Cross -on its long low roof,—a place where a few poor monks work and -pray,—good men whose virtues are chiefly known to the sick, destitute -and needy. They call themselves simply “The Brotherhood,” and there -are only ten of them in all, including the youngest, who joined their -confraternity quite recently. They are very poor,—they wear rough -white garments and go barefooted, and their food is of the simplest; -but they do a vast amount of good in their unassuming way, and when -any of their neighbours are in trouble, such afflicted ones at once -climb the little eminence where Venus was worshipped with such pomp in -ancient days, and make direct for the plain unadorned habitation -devoted to the service of One who was “a Man of Sorrows and acquainted -with grief.” There they never fail to find consolation and practical -aid,—even their persistent prayers to “Aphroditissa” are condoned -with a broad and tender patience by these men who honestly strive to -broaden and not confine the road that leads to heaven. Thus Paphos is -sacred still,—with the glamour of old creeds and the wider glory of -the new,—yet though it is an interesting enough nook of the earth, it -is seldom that travellers elect to go thither either to admire or -explore. Therefore the sight of a travelling-carriage, a tumble-down -sort of vehicle, yet one of the best to be obtained thereabouts, -making its way slowly up the ascent, with people in modern fashionable -dress sitting therein, was a rare and wonderful spectacle to the -ragged Cypriote youth of both sexes, who either stood by the roadway, -pushing their tangled locks from their dark eyes and staring at it, or -else ran swiftly alongside its wheels to beg for coppers from its -occupants. There were four of these,—two ladies and two -gentlemen,—Sir Frederick Vaughan and Lady Vaughan (<i>née</i> Idina -Chester); the fair and famous authoress, Irene Vassilius, and a -distinguished-looking handsome man of about forty or thereabouts, the -Duke of Strathlea, a friend of the Vaughans, who had entertained them -royally during the previous autumn at his grand old historic house in -Scotland. By a mere chance during the season, he had made the -acquaintance of Madame Vassilius, with whom he had fallen suddenly, -deeply and ardently in love. She, however, was the same unresponsive -far-gazing dreamy sibyl as ever, and though not entirely indifferent -to the gentle reverential homage paid to her by this chivalrous and -honourable gentleman, she could not make up her mind to give him any -decided encouragement. He appeared to make no progress with her -whatever,—and of course his discouragement increased his ardour. He -devised every sort of plan he could think of for obtaining as much of -her society as possible,—and finally, he had entreated the Vaughans -to persuade her to join them in a trip to the Mediterranean in his -yacht. At first she had refused,—then, with a sudden change of -humour, she had consented to go, provided the Island of Cyprus were -one of the places to be visited. Strathlea eagerly caught at and -agreed to this suggestion,—the journey had been undertaken, and had -so far proved most enjoyable. Now they had reached the spot Irene most -wished to see,—it was to please her that they were making the present -excursion to the “Temple of Venus,” or rather, to the small and -obscure monastery among the hills which she had expressed a strong -desire to visit,—and Strathlea, looking wistfully at her fair -thoughtful face, wondered whether after all these pleasant days passed -together between sparkling sea and radiant sky, she had any kinder -thoughts of him,—whether she would always be so quiet, so impassive, -so indifferent to the love of a true man’s heart? -</p> - -<p> -The carriage went slowly,—the view widened with every upward yard of -the way,—and they were all silent, gazing at the glittering expanse -of blue ocean below them. -</p> - -<p> -“How very warm it is!” said Lady Vaughan at last breaking the dumb -spell, and twirling her sunshade round and round to disperse a cloud -of gnats and small flies—“Fred, you look absolutely broiled! You are -so dreadfully sunburnt!” -</p> - -<p> -“Am I?” and Sir Frederick smiled blandly,—he was as much in love with -his pretty frivolous wife as it is becoming for a man to be, and all -her remarks were received by him with the utmost docility—“Well, I -daresay I am. Yachting doesn’t improve the transparent delicacy of a -man’s complexion. Strathlea is too dark to show it much,—but I was -always a florid sort of fellow. You’ve no lack of colour yourself, -Idina.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I’m sure I look a fright!” responded her ladyship vivaciously and -with a slight touch of petulance—“Irene is the only one who appears -to keep cool. I believe her aspect would be positively frosty with the -thermometer marking 100 in the shade!” -</p> - -<p> -Irene, who was gazing abstractedly out to sea, turned slowly and -lifted her drooping lace parasol slightly higher from her face. She -was pale,—and her deep-set gray eyes were liquid as though unshed -tears filled them. -</p> - -<p> -“Did you speak to me, dear?” she inquired gently. “Have I done -something to vex you?” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Vaughan laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“No, of course you haven’t. The idea of your vexing anybody! You look -irritatingly cool in this tremendous heat,—that’s all.” -</p> - -<p> -“I love the sun,”—said Irene dreamily—“To me it is always the -visible sign of God in the world. In London we have so little -sunshine,—and, one might add, so little of God also! I was just then -watching that golden blaze of light upon the sea.” -</p> - -<p> -Strathlea looked at her interrogatively. -</p> - -<p> -“And what does it suggest to you, Madame?” he asked—“The glory of a -great fame, or the splendour of a great love?” -</p> - -<p> -“Neither”—she replied tranquilly—“Simply the reflex of Heaven on -Earth.” -</p> - -<p> -“Love might be designated thus,” said Strathlea in a low tone. -</p> - -<p> -She coloured a little, but offered no response. -</p> - -<p> -“It was odd that you alone should have been told the news of poor -El-Râmi’s misfortune,” said Sir Frederick, abruptly addressing -her,—“None of us, not even my cousin Melthorpe, who knew him before -you did, had the least idea of it.” -</p> - -<p> -“His brother wrote to me”—replied Irene; “Féraz, that beautiful -youth who accompanied him to Lady Melthorpe’s reception last year. But -he gave me no details,—he simply explained that El-Râmi, through -prolonged overstudy, had lost the balance of his mind. The letter was -very short, and in it he stated he was about to enter a religious -fraternity who had their abode near Baffo in Cyprus, and that the -brethren had consented to receive his brother also and take charge of -him in his great helplessness.” -</p> - -<p> -“And their place is what we are going to see now”—finished Lady -Vaughan—“I daresay it will be immensely interesting. Poor El-Râmi! -Who would ever have thought it possible for him to lose his wits! I -shall never forget the first time I saw him at the theatre. <i>Hamlet</i> -was being played, and he entered in the very middle of the speech ‘To -be or not to be.’ I remember how he looked, perfectly. What eyes he -had!—they positively scared me!” -</p> - -<p> -Her husband glanced at her admiringly. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you know, Idina”—he said, “that El-Râmi told me on that very -night—the night of <i>Hamlet</i> that I was destined to marry you?” -</p> - -<p> -She lifted her eyelids in surprise. -</p> - -<p> -“No! Really! And did you feel yourself compelled to carry out the -prophecy?”—and she laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“No, I did not feel myself compelled,—but somehow, it -happened—didn’t it?” he inquired with naïve persistency. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course it did! How absurd you are!” and she laughed again—“Are -you sorry?” -</p> - -<p> -He gave her an expressive look,—he was really very much in love, and -she was still a new enough bride to blush at his amorous regard. -Strathlea moved impatiently in his seat;—the assured happiness of -others made him envious. -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose this prophet,—El-Râmi, as you call him, prophesies no -longer, if his wits are lacking”—he said—“otherwise I should have -asked him to prophesy something good for me.” -</p> - -<p> -No one answered. Lady Vaughan stole a meaning glance and smile at -Irene, but there was no touch of embarrassment or flush of colour on -that fair, serene, rather plaintive face. -</p> - -<p> -“He always went into things with such terrible closeness, did -El-Râmi,—” said Sir Frederick after a pause—“No wonder his brain -gave way at last. You know you can’t keep on asking the why, why, why -of everything without getting shut up in the long run.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think we were not meant to ask ‘why’ at all,” said Irene -slowly—“We are made to accept and believe that everything is for the -best.” -</p> - -<p> -“There is a story extant in France of a certain philosopher who was -always asking why—” said Strathlea—“He was a taciturn man as a rule, -and seldom opened his lips except to say ‘Pourquoi?’ When his wife -died suddenly, he manifested no useless regrets—he merely said -‘Pourquoi?’ One day they told him his house in the country was burned -to the ground,—he shrugged his shoulders and said ‘Pourquoi?’ After a -bit he lost all his fortune,—his furniture was sold up,—he stared at -the bailiffs and said ‘Pourquoi?’ Later on he was suspected of being -in a plot to assassinate the King,—men came and seized his papers and -took him away to prison,—he made no resistance,—he only said -‘Pourquoi?’ He was tried, found guilty and condemned to death; the -judge asked him if he had anything to say? He replied at once -‘Pourquoi?’ No answer was vouchsafed to him, and in due time he was -taken to the scaffold. There the executioner bandaged his eyes,—he -said ‘Pourquoi?’—he was told to kneel down; he did so, but again -demanded ‘Pourquoi?’—the knife fell, and his head was severed from -his body—yet before it rolled into the basket, it trembled on the -block, its eyes opened, its lips moved, and for the last time uttered -that final, never-to-be answered query ‘Pourquoi?’!” -</p> - -<p> -They all laughed at this story, and just then the carriage stopped. -The driver got down and explained in very bad French that he could go -no farther,—that the road had terminated, and that there was now only -a footpath which led through the trees to the little monastic retreat -whither they were bound. They alighted, therefore, and found -themselves close to the ruin supposed to have once been the “Temple of -Venus.” They paused for a moment, looking at the scene in silence. -</p> - -<p> -“There must have been a great joyousness in the old creeds,” said -Strathlea softly, with an admiring glance at Irene’s slight, slim, -almost fairy-like figure clad in its close-fitting garb of silky -white—“At the shrine of Venus for example, one could declare one’s -love without fear or shame.” -</p> - -<p> -“That can be done still,” observed Sir Frederick laughingly, “And is -done, pretty often. People haven’t left off making love because the -faith in Venus is exploded. I expect they’ll go on in the same old -abandoned way to the end of the chapter.” -</p> - -<p> -And, throwing his arm round his wife’s waist, he sauntered on with her -towards the thicket of trees at the end of which their driver had told -them the “refuge” was situated, leaving Strathlea and Madame Vassilius -to follow. Strathlea perceived and was grateful for the opportunity -thus given, and ventured to approach Irene a little more closely. She -was still gazing out to the sea, her soft eyes were dreamy and -abstracted,—her small ungloved right hand hung down at her -side,—after a moment’s hesitation, he boldly lifted it and touched -its delicate whiteness with a kiss. She started nervously—she had -been away in the land of dreams,—and now she met his gaze with a -certain vague reproach in the sweet expression of her face. -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot help it—” said Strathlea quickly, and in a low eager -tone—“I cannot, Irene! You know I love you,—you have seen it, and -you have discouraged and repelled me in every possible way,—but I am -not made of stone or marble—I am mere flesh and blood, and I must -speak. I love you, Irene! I love you—I will not unsay it. I want you -to be my wife. Will you, Irene? Do not be in a hurry to answer -me—think long enough to allow some pity for me to mingle with your -thoughts. Just imagine a little hand like this”—and he kissed it -again—“holding the pen with such a masterful grip and inditing to the -world the thoughts and words that live in the minds of thousands,—is -it such a cold hand that it is impervious to love’s caress? I -cannot—I will not believe it. You cannot be obdurate for ever. What -is there in love that it should repel you?” -</p> - -<p> -She smiled gravely; and gently, very gently, withdrew her hand. -</p> - -<p> -“It is not love that repels me—” she said, “It is what is <i>called</i> -love, in this world,—a selfish sentiment that is not love at all. I -assure you I am not insensible to your affection for me, my dear Duke, -... I wish for your sake I were differently constituted.” -</p> - -<p> -She paused a moment, then added hastily, “See, the others are out of -sight—do let us overtake them.” -</p> - -<p> -She moved away quickly with that soft gliding tread of hers which -reminded one of a poet’s sylph walking on a moonbeam, and he paced -beside her, half mortified, yet not altogether without hope. -</p> - -<p> -“Why are you so anxious to see this man who has lost his wits,—this -El-Râmi Zarânos?” he asked, with a touch of jealousy in his -accents—“Was he more to you than most people?” -</p> - -<p> -She raised her eyes with an expression of grave remonstrance. -</p> - -<p> -“Your thoughts wrong me—” she said simply—“I never saw El-Râmi but -twice in my life,—I only pitied him greatly. I used to have a strong -instinct upon me that all would not be well with him in the end.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“First, because he had no faith,—secondly, because he had an excess -of pride. He dismissed God out of his calculations altogether, and was -perfectly content to rely on the onward march of his own intellect. -Intellectual Egoism is always doomed to destruction,—this seems to be -a Law of the Universe. Indeed, Egoism, whether sensual or -intellectual, is always a defiance of God.” -</p> - -<p> -Strathlea walked along in silence for a minute, then he said abruptly: -</p> - -<p> -“It is odd to hear you speak like this, as if you were a religious -woman. You are not religious,—every one says so,—you are a -free-thinker,—and also, pardon me for repeating it, society supposes -you to be full of this sin you condemn—Intellectual Egoism.” -</p> - -<p> -“Society may suppose what it pleases of me”—said Irene, “I was never -its favourite, and never shall be, nor do I court its good opinion. -Yes, I am a free-thinker, and freely think without narrow law or -boundary, of the majesty, beauty and surpassing goodness of God. As -for intellectual egoism,—I hope I am not in any respect guilty of it. -To be proud of what one does, or what one knows, has always seemed to -me the poorest sort of vanity,—and it is the stumbling block over -which a great many workers in the literary profession fall, never to -rise again. But you are quite right in saying I am not a ‘religious’ -woman; I never go to church and I never patronise bazaars.” -</p> - -<p> -The sparkle of mirth in her eyes was infectious, and he laughed. But -suddenly she stopped, and laid her hand on his arm. -</p> - -<p> -“Listen,” she said, with a slight tremor in her voice—“You love me, -you say ... and I—I am not altogether indifferent to you—I confess -that much. Wait!” for in an excess of delight he had caught both her -hands in his own, and she loosened them gently—“Wait—you do not know -me, my dear friend. You do not understand my nature at all,—I -sometimes think myself it is not what is understood as ‘feminine.’ I -am an abnormal creature—and perhaps if you knew me better you would -not like me ...” -</p> - -<p> -“I adore you!” said Strathlea impetuously, “and I shall always adore -you!” -</p> - -<p> -She smiled rather sadly. -</p> - -<p> -“You think so now,”—she said—“but you cannot be sure,—no man can -always be sure of himself. You spoke of society and its opinion of -me;—now, as a rule, average people do not like me,—they are vaguely -afraid of me,—and they think it is strange and almost dangerous for a -‘writing woman’ to be still young, and not entirely hideous. Literary -women generally are so safely and harmlessly repellent in look and -bearing. Then again, as you said, I am not a religious woman,—no, not -at all so in the accepted sense of the term. But with all my heart and -soul I believe in God, and the ultimate good of everything. I abhor -those who would narrow our vision of heavenly things by dogma or -rule—I resent all ideas of the Creator that seem to lessen His glory -by one iota. I may truly say I live in an ecstasy of faith, accepting -life as a wondrous miracle, and death as a crowning joy. I pray but -seldom, as I have nothing to ask for, being given far more than I -deserve,—and I complain of nothing save the blind, cruel injustice -and misjudgment shown by one human unit to another. This is not God’s -doing, but Man’s—and it will, it must, bring down full punishment in -due season.” -</p> - -<p> -She paused a moment,—Strathlea was looking at her admiringly, and she -coloured suddenly at his gaze. -</p> - -<p> -“Besides”—she added with an abrupt change of tone, from enthusiasm to -coldness, “you must not, my dear Duke, think that I feel myself in any -way distinguished or honoured by your proposal to make me your wife. I -do not. This sounds very brusque, I know, but I think as a general -rule in marriage, a woman gives a great deal more than she ever -receives. I am aware how very much your position and fortune might -appeal to many of my sex,—but I need scarcely tell you they have no -influence upon me. For, notwithstanding an entire lack of log-rollers -and press ‘booms’”—and she smiled—“my books bring me in large sums, -sufficient and more than sufficient for all my worldly needs. And I am -not ambitious to be a duchess.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are cruel, Irene”—said Strathlea—“Should I ever attaint you -with worldly motives? I never wanted to be a duke—I was born so,—and -a horrid bore it is! If I were a poor man, could you fancy me?” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her,—and her eyes fell under his ardent gaze. He saw his -advantage, and profited by it. -</p> - -<p> -“You do not positively hate me?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -She gave him one fleeting glance through her long lashes, and a faint -smile rested on her mouth. -</p> - -<p> -“How could I?” she murmured—“you are my friend.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, will you try to like me a little more than a friend?”—he -continued eagerly—“Will you say to yourself now and then—‘He is a -big, bluff, clumsy Englishman, with more faults than virtues, more -money than brains, and a stupid title sticking upon him like a bow of -ribbon on a boar’s head, but he is very fond of me, and would give up -everything in the world for me’—will you say that to yourself, and -think as well as you can of me?—will you, Irene?” -</p> - -<p> -She raised her head. All coldness and hauteur had left her face, and -her eyes were very soft and tender. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear friend, I cannot hear you do yourself wrong”—she said—“and -I am not as unjust as you perhaps imagine. I know your worth. You have -more virtues than faults, more brains than money,—you are generous -and kindly, and in this instance, your title sets off the grace of a -true and gallant gentleman. Give me time to consider a little,—let us -join the Vaughans,—I promise you I will give you your answer to-day.” -</p> - -<p> -A light flashed over his features, and stooping, he once more kissed -her hand. Then, as she moved on, a gracefully gliding figure under the -dark arching boughs, he followed with a firm joyous step such as might -have befitted a knight of the court of King Arthur who had, after hard -fighting, at last won some distinct pledge of his “ladye’s” future -favour. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch43"> -XLIII. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Deeply</span> embowered among arching boughs and covered with the luxuriant -foliage of many a climbing and flowering vine, the little monastic -refuge appeared at first sight more like the retreat of a poet or -painter than a religious house where holy ascetics fasted and prayed -and followed the difficult discipline of daily self-denial. When the -little party of visitors reached its quaint low door they all paused -before ringing the bell that hung visibly aloft among clustering -clematis, and looked about them in admiration. -</p> - -<p> -“What a delicious place!” said Lady Vaughan, bending to scent the -odours of a rich musk rose that had pushed its lovely head through the -leaves as though inviting attention—“How peaceful! ... and listen! -What grand music they are singing!” -</p> - -<p> -She held up her finger,—the others obeyed the gesture, and hushed -their steps to hear every note of the stately harmony that pealed out -upon the air. The brethren were chanting part of the grand Greek “Hymn -of Cleanthes,” a translation of which may be roughly rendered in the -following strophes: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“Many-named and most glorious of the Immortals, Almighty for ever,</p> -<p class="i0">Ruler of Nature whose government is order and law,</p> -<p class="i0">Hail, all hail! for good it is that mortals should praise thee!</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“We are Thy offspring; we are the Image of Thy Voice,</p> -<p class="i0">And only the Image, as all mortal things are that live and move by Thy power,</p> -<p class="i0">Therefore do we exalt Thy Name and sing of Thy glory forever!</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“Thee doth the splendid Universe obey</p> -<p class="i0">Moving whithersoever Thou leadest,</p> -<p class="i0">And all are gladly swayed by Thee.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“Naught is done in the earth without thee, O God—</p> -<p class="i0">Nor in the divine sphere of the heavens, nor in the deepest depths of the sea,</p> -<p class="i0">Save the works that evil men commit in their hours of folly.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“Yet thou knowest where to find place for superfluous things,</p> -<p class="i0">Thou dost order that which seems disorderly,</p> -<p class="i0">And things not dear to men are dear to Thee!</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“Thou dost harmonise into One both Good and Evil,</p> -<p class="i0">For there is One Everlasting Reason for them all.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“O thou All-Giver, Dweller in the clouds, Lord of the thunder,</p> -<p class="i0">Save thou men from their own self-sought unhappiness,</p> -<p class="i0">Do thou, O Father, scatter darkness from their souls, and give -them light to discover true wisdom.</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i0">“In being honoured let them pay Thee Honour,</p> -<p class="i0">Hymning Thy glorious works continually as beseems mortal men,</p> -<p class="i0">Since there can be no greater glory for men or gods than this,</p> -<p class="i0">To praise for ever and ever the grand and Universal Law!</p> -<p class="i10">Amen!—Amen!—Amen!”</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -“Strange they should elect to sing that”—said Strathlea musingly—“I -remember learning it off by heart in my student days. They have left -out a verse of it here and there,—but it is quite a Pagan hymn.” -</p> - -<p> -“It seems to me very good Christianity”—said Irene Vassilius, her -eyes kindling with emotion—“It is a grand and convincing act of -thanksgiving, and I think we have more cause for thankfulness than -supplication.” -</p> - -<p> -“I am not yet quite sure about that myself”—murmured Strathlea in her -ear—“I shall know better when the day is ended which I need most, -prayer or thanksgiving.” -</p> - -<p> -She coloured a little and her eyes fell,—meanwhile the solemn music -ceased. -</p> - -<p> -“Shall I ring?” inquired Sir Frederick as the last note died away on -the air. -</p> - -<p> -They all silently acquiesced,—and by means of a coarse rope hanging -down among the flowers the bell was gently set in motion. Its soft -clang was almost immediately answered by a venerable monk in white -garments, with a long rosary twisted into his girdle and a Cross and -Star blazoned in gold upon his breast. -</p> - -<p> -“Benedicite!” said this personage mildly, making the sign of the cross -before otherwise addressing the visitors,—then, as they instinctively -bent their heads to the pious greeting, he opened the door a little -wider and asked them in French what they sought. -</p> - -<p> -For answer Madame Vassilius stepped forward and gave him an open -letter, one which she knew would serve as a pass to obtain ready -admission to the monastery, and as the monk glanced it over his pale -features brightened visibly. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! Friends of our youngest brother Sebastian”—he said in fluent -English—“Enter! You are most heartily welcome.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood aside, and they all passed under the low porch into a square -hall, painted from ceiling to floor in delicate fresco. The designs -were so beautiful and so admirably executed, that Strathlea could not -resist stopping to look at one or two of them. -</p> - -<p> -“These are very fine”—he said, addressing the gray-haired recluse who -escorted them—“Are they the work of some ancient or modern artist?” -</p> - -<p> -The old man smiled and gave a deprecating, almost apologetic gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“They are the result of a few years’ pleasant labour”—he replied—“I -was very happy while employed thus.” -</p> - -<p> -“You did them!” exclaimed Lady Vaughan, turning her eyes upon him in -frank wonder and admiration—“Why then you are a genius!” -</p> - -<p> -The monk shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, Madame, not so. We none of us lay claim to ‘genius’; that is -for those in the outer world,—here we simply work and do our best for -the mere love of doing it.” -</p> - -<p> -Here, preceding them a little, he threw open a door, and ushered them -into a quaint low room, panelled in oak, and begged them to be seated -for a few moments while he went to inform “Brother Sebastian” of their -arrival. -</p> - -<p> -Left alone they gazed about in silence, till Sir Frederick, after -staring hard at the panelled walls said— -</p> - -<p> -“You may be pretty sure these fellows have carved every bit of that -oak themselves. Monks are always wonderful workmen,—<i>Laborare est -orare</i>, you know. By the way I noticed that monk artist who was with -us just now wore no tonsure,—I wonder why? Anyhow it’s a very ugly -disfigurement and quite senseless; they do well to abjure it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is this man you come to see,—El-Râmi—a member of the Fraternity?” -asked Strathlea of Irene in a low tone. -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head compassionately. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no—poor creature,—he would not understand their rules or their -discipline. He is simply in their charge, as one who must for all his -life be weak and helpless.” -</p> - -<p> -At that moment the door opened, and a tall slim figure appeared, clad -in the trailing white garments of the brotherhood; and in the dark -poetic face, brilliant eyes and fine sensitive mouth there was little -difficulty in recognising Féraz as the “Brother Sebastian” for whom -they waited. He advanced towards them with singular grace and quiet -dignity,—the former timidity and impetuosity of, youth had entirely -left him, and from his outward aspect and, bearing he looked like a -young saint whose thoughts were always set on the highest things, yet -who nevertheless had known what it was to suffer in the search for -peace. -</p> - -<p> -“You are most welcome, Madame”—he said, inclining himself with a -courteous gentleness towards Irene,—“I expected you,—I felt sure -that you would one day come to see us. I know you were always -interested in my brother ...” -</p> - -<p> -“I was, and am still”—replied Irene gently, “and in yourself also.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz, or “Brother Sebastian” as he was now called, made another -gentle salutation expressive of gratitude, and then turned his eyes -questioningly on the other members of the party. -</p> - -<p> -“You will not need to be reminded of Sir Frederick Vaughan and Lady -Vaughan,”—went on Irene,—then as these exchanged greetings, she -added—“This gentleman whom you do not know is the Duke of -Strathlea,—we have made the journey from England in his yacht, -and——” she hesitated a moment, the colour deepening a little in her -fair cheeks—“he is a great friend of mine.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz glanced at her once,—then once at Strathlea, and a grave smile -softened his pensive face. He extended his hand with a frank -cordiality that was charming, and Strathlea pressed it warmly, -fascinated by the extreme beauty and dignity of this youthful ascetic, -sworn to the solitariness of the religious life ere he had touched his -manhood’s prime. -</p> - -<p> -“And how is El-Râmi?” asked Sir Frederick with good-natured -bluffness—“My cousin Melthorpe was much distressed to hear what had -happened,—and so were we all,—really—a terrible calamity—but you -know overstudy will upset a man,—it’s no use doing too much——” -</p> - -<p> -He broke off his incoherent remarks abruptly, embarrassed a little by -the calmly mournful gaze of “Brother Sebastian’s” deep dark eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“You are very good, Sir Frederick,”—he said gently—“I am sure you -sympathise truly, and I thank you all for your sympathy. But—I am not -sure that I should be sorrowful for my brother’s seeming affliction. -God’s will has been made manifest in this, as in other things,—and we -must needs accept that will without complaint. For the rest, El-Râmi -is well,—and not only well, but happy. Let me take you to him.” -</p> - -<p> -They hesitated,—all except Irene. Lady Vaughan was a nervous -creature,—she had a very vivid remembrance of El-Râmi’s “terrible -eyes”—they looked fiery enough when he was sane,—but how would they -look now when he was ... mad? She moved uneasily,—her husband pulled -his long moustache doubtfully as he studied her somewhat alarmed -countenance,—and Féraz, glancing at the group, silently understood -the situation. -</p> - -<p> -“Will you come with me, Madame?” he said, addressing himself solely to -Irene—“It is better perhaps that you should see him first alone. But -he will not distress you ... he is quite harmless ... poor El-Râmi!” -</p> - -<p> -In spite of himself his voice trembled,—and Irene’s warm heart -swelled for sympathy. -</p> - -<p> -“I will come at once”—she said, and as she prepared to leave the room -Strathlea whispered: “Let me go with you!” -</p> - -<p> -She gave a mute sign of assent,—and Féraz leading the way, they -quietly followed, while Sir Frederick and his wife remained behind. -They passed first through a long stone corridor,—then into a -beautiful quadrangular court with a fountain in its centre, and wooden -benches set at equal distances under its moss-grown vine-covered -colonnade. Flowers grew everywhere in the wildest, loveliest -profusion,—tame doves strutted about on the pavement with peaceful -and proud complacency, and palms and magnolias grew up in tall and -tangled profusion wherever they could obtain root-hold, casting their -long, leafy trembling shadows across the quadrangle and softening the -too dazzling light reflected from the brilliant sky above. Up in a far -corner of this little garden paradise, under the shade of a spreading -cedar, sat the placid figure of a man,—one of the brethren at first -he seemed, for he was clothed in the garb of the monastic order, and a -loose cowl was flung back from his uncovered head on which the hair -shone white and glistening as fine spun silver. His hands were loosely -clasped together,—his large dark eyes were fixed on the rays of light -that quivered prismatically in the foam of the tossing fountain, and -near his feet a couple of amorous snowy doves sat brooding in the sun. -He did not seem to hear the footsteps of his approaching visitors, and -even when they came close up to him, it was only by slow degrees that -he appeared to become conscious of their presence. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi!” said his brother with tender gentleness—“El-Râmi, these -are friends who have journeyed hither to see you.” -</p> - -<p> -Then, like a man reluctantly awaking from a long and pleasant noonday -dream, he rose and stood up with singularly majestic dignity, and for -a moment looked so like the proud, indomitable El-Râmi of former -days, that Irene Vassilius in her intense interest and compassion for -him, half fancied that the surprise of seeing old acquaintances had -for a brief interval brought back both reason and remembrance. But -no,—his eyes rested upon her unrecognisingly, though he greeted her -and Strathlea also, with the stateliest of salutations. -</p> - -<p> -“Friends are always welcome”—he said, “But friends are rare in the -world,—it is not in the world one must look for them. There was a -time I assure you, ... when I ... even I, ... could have had the most -powerful of all friends for the mere asking,—but it is too late -now—too late.” -</p> - -<p> -He sighed profoundly, and seated himself again on the bench as before. -</p> - -<p> -“What does he mean?” asked Strathlea of Féraz in a low tone. -</p> - -<p> -“It is not always easy to understand him,” responded Féraz -gently—“But in this case, when he speaks of the friend he might have -had for the mere asking, he means,—God.” -</p> - -<p> -The warm tears rushed into Irene’s eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, God is his friend I am sure”—she said with fervour, “The great -Creator is no man’s enemy.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz gave her an eloquent look. -</p> - -<p> -“True, dear Madame”—he answered,—“But there are times and seasons of -affliction when we feel and know ourselves to be unworthy of the -Divine friendship, and when our own conscience considers God as one -very far off.” -</p> - -<p> -Yielding to the deep impulse of pity that swayed her, she advanced -softly, and sitting down beside El-Râmi, took his hand in her own. He -turned and looked at her,—at the fair delicate face and soft ardent -eyes,—at the slight dainty figure in its close-fitting white -garb,—and a faint wondering smile brightened his features. -</p> - -<p> -“What is this?” he murmured, then glancing downward at her small white -ringless hand as it held his—“Is this an angel? Yes, it must -be,—well then, there is hope at last. You bring me news of Lilith?” -</p> - -<p> -Irene started, and her heart beat nervously,—she could not understand -this, to her, new phase of his wandering mind. What was she to say in -answer to so strange a question?—for who was Lilith? She gazed -helplessly at Féraz,—he returned her look with one so earnest and -imploring, that she answered at once as she thought most advisable— -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -A sudden trembling shook El-Râmi’s frame, and he seemed absorbed. -After a long pause, he lifted his dark eyes and fixed them solemnly -upon her. -</p> - -<p> -“Then, she knows all now?” he demanded—“She understands that I am -patient?—that I repent?—that I believe?—and that I love her as she -would have me love her,—faithfully and far beyond all life and time?” -</p> - -<p> -Without hesitation, and only anxious to soothe and comfort him, Irene -answered at once— -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—yes—she understands. Be consoled—be patient still—you will -meet her soon again.” -</p> - -<p> -“Soon again?” he echoed, with a pathetic glance upward at the dazzling -blue sky—“Soon? In a thousand years?—or a thousand thousand?—for so -do happy angels count the time. To me an hour is long—but to Lilith, -cycles are moments.” -</p> - -<p> -His head sank on his breast,—he seemed to fall suddenly into a dreamy -state of meditation,—and just then a slow bell began to toll to and -fro from a wooden turret on the monastery roof. -</p> - -<p> -“That is for vespers”—said Féraz—“Will you come, Madame, and hear -our singing? You shall see El-Râmi again afterwards.” -</p> - -<p> -Silently she rose, but her movement to depart roused El-Râmi from his -abstraction, and he looked at her wistfully. -</p> - -<p> -“They say there is happiness in the world”—he said slowly, “but I -have not found it. Little messenger of peace, are you happy?” -</p> - -<p> -The pathos of his rich musical voice, as he said the words “little -messenger of peace,” was indescribably touching. Strathlea found his -eyes suddenly growing dim with tears, and Irene’s voice trembled -greatly as she answered— -</p> - -<p> -“No, not quite happy, dear friend;—we are none of us quite happy.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not without love,”—said El-Râmi, speaking with sudden firmness and -decision—“Without love we are powerless. With it, we can compass all -things. Do not miss love; it is the clue to the great Secret,—the -only key to God’s mystery. But you know this already,—better than I -can tell you,—for I have missed it,—not lost it, you understand, but -only missed it. I shall find it again,—I hope, ... I pray I shall -find it again! God be with you, little messenger! Be happy while you -can!” -</p> - -<p> -He extended his hand with a gesture which might have been one of -dismissal or benediction or both, and then sank into his former -attitude of resigned contemplation, while Irene Vassilius, too much -moved to speak, walked across the court between Strathlea and the -beautiful young “Brother Sebastian,” scarcely seeing the sunlight for -tears. Strathlea, too, was deeply touched;—so splendid a figure of a -man as El-Râmi he had seldom seen, and the ruin of brilliant -faculties in such a superb physique appeared to him the most -disastrous of calamities. -</p> - -<p> -“Is he always like that?” he inquired of Féraz, with a backward -compassionate glance at the quiet figure sitting under the -cedar-boughs. -</p> - -<p> -“Nearly always,” replied Féraz—“Sometimes he talks of birds and -flowers,—sometimes he takes a childish delight in the sunlight—he is -most happy, I think, when I take him alone into the chapel and play to -him on the organ. He is very peaceful, and never at any time violent.” -</p> - -<p> -“And,” pursued Strathlea, hesitatingly, “who is, or who was the Lilith -he speaks of?” -</p> - -<p> -“A woman he loved”—answered Féraz quietly—“and whom he loves still. -She lives—for him—in Heaven.” -</p> - -<p> -No more questions were asked, and in another minute they arrived at -the open door of the little chapel, where Sir Frederick and Lady -Vaughan, attracted by the sound of music, were already awaiting them. -Irene briefly whispered a hurried explanation of El-Râmi’s condition, -and Lady Vaughan declared she would go and see him after the -vesper-service was over. -</p> - -<p> -“You must not expect the usual sort of vespers”—said Féraz -then—“Our form is not the Roman Catholic.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is it not?” queried Strathlea, surprised—“Then, may one ask what is -it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Our own,”—was the brief response. -</p> - -<p> -Three or four white-cowled, white-garmented figures now began to glide -into the chapel by a side-entrance, and Sir Frederick Vaughan asked -with some curiosity: -</p> - -<p> -“Which is the Superior?” -</p> - -<p> -“We have no Superior”—replied Féraz—“There is one Master of all the -Brotherhoods, but he has no fixed habitation, and he is not at present -in Europe. He visits the different branches of our Fraternity at -different intervals,—but he has not been here since my brother and I -came. In this house we are a sort of small Republic,—each man governs -himself, and we are all in perfect unity, as we all implicitly follow -the same fixed rules. Will you go into the chapel now? I must leave -you, as I have to sing the chorale.” -</p> - -<p> -They obeyed his gesture, and went softly into the little sacred place, -now glowing with light, and redolent of sweet perfume, the natural -incense wafted on the air from the many flowers which were clustered -in every nook and corner. Seating themselves quietly on a wooden bench -at the end of the building, they watched the proceedings in mingled -wonder and reverence,—for such a religious service as this they had -assuredly never witnessed. There was no altar,—only an arched recess, -wherein stood a large, roughly-carved wooden cross, the base of which -was entirely surrounded with the rarest flowers. Through the -stained-glass window behind, the warm afternoon light streamed -gloriously,—it fell upon the wooden beams of the Sign of Salvation, -with a rose and purple radiance like that of newly-kindled fire,—and -as the few monks gathered together and knelt before it in silent -prayer, the scene was strangely impressive, though the surroundings -were so simple. And when, through the deep stillness an organ-chord -broke grandly like a wave from the sea, and the voice of Féraz, deep, -rich, and pathetic exclaimed as it were, in song, -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“<i>Quare tristis es anima mea?</i></p> -<p class="i0"><i>Quare conturbas me?</i>”</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -giving the reply in still sweeter accents, -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“<i>Spera in Deo!</i>”</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -then Irene Vassilius sank on her knees and hid her face in her clasped -hands, her whole soul shaken by emotion and uplifted to heaven by the -magic of divinest harmony. Strathlea looked at her slight kneeling -figure and his heart beat passionately,—he bent his head too, close -beside hers, partly out of a devotional sense, partly perhaps to have -a nearer glimpse of the lovely fair hair that clustered in such -tempting little ripples and curls on the back of her slim white neck. -The monks, prostrating themselves before the Cross, murmured together -some indistinct orisons for a few minutes,—then came a pause,—and -once more the voice of Féraz rang out in soft warm vibrating notes of -melody;—the words he sang were his own, and fell distinctly on the -ears as roundly and perfectly as the chime of a true-toned bell— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">O hear ye not the voice of the Belovëd?</p> -<p class="i0">Through golden seas of starry light it falls,</p> -<p class="i0">And like a summons in the night it calls,</p> -<p class="i0">Saying,—“Lost children of the Father’s House</p> -<p class="i0">Why do ye wander wilfully away?</p> -<p class="i0">Lo, I have sought ye sorrowing every day,—</p> -<p class="i0">And yet ye will not answer,—will not turn</p> -<p class="i0">To meet My love for which the angels yearn!</p> -<p class="i1">In all the causeless griefs wherewith your hearts are movëd</p> -<p class="i1">Have ye no time to hear the Voice of the Belovëd?”</p> - -<br/> - -<p class="i1">O hearken to the Voice of the Belovëd!</p> -<p class="i1">Sweeter it is than music,—sweeter far</p> -<p class="i1">Than angel-anthems in a happy star!</p> -<p class="i0">O wandering children of the Father’s House,</p> -<p class="i0">Turn homeward ere the coming of the night,</p> -<p class="i0">Follow the pathway leading to the light!</p> -<p class="i0">So shall the sorrows of long exile cease</p> -<p class="i0">And tears be turned to smiles and pain to peace.</p> -<p class="i1">Lift up your hearts and let your faith be provëd;—</p> -<p class="i1">Answer, oh answer the Voice of the Belovëd!</p> -</div></div> - -<p> -Very simple stanzas these, and yet, sung by Féraz as only he could -sing, they carried in their very utterance a singularly passionate and -beautiful appeal. The fact of his singing the verses in English -implied a gracefully-intended compliment to his visitors,—and after -the last line “Answer, oh answer the voice of the Belovëd!” a deep -silence reigned in the little chapel. After some minutes this silence -was gently disturbed by what one might express as the gradual -<i>flowing-in</i> of music,—a soft, persuasive ripple of sound that seemed -to wind in and out as though it had crept forth from the air as a -stream creeps through the grasses. And while that delicious harmony -rose and fell on the otherwise absolute stillness, Strathlea was -thrilled through every nerve of his being by the touch of a small soft -warm hand that stole tremblingly near his own as the music stole into -his heart;—a hand that after a little hesitation placed itself on his -in a wistfully submissive way that filled him with rapture and wonder. -He pressed the clinging dainty fingers in his own broad palm— -</p> - -<p> -“Irene!” he whispered, as he bent his head lower in apparent -devotion—“Irene,—is this my answer?” -</p> - -<p> -She looked up and gave him one fleeting glance through eyes that were -dim with tears; a faint smile quivered on her lips,—and then, she hid -her face again,—but—left her hand in his. And as the music, solemn -and sweet, surged around them both like a rolling wave, Strathlea knew -his cause was won, and for this favour of high Heaven, mentally -uttered a brief but passionately fervent “<i>Laus Deo</i>.” He had obtained -the best blessing that God can give—Love,—and he felt devoutly -certain that he had nothing more to ask for in this world or the next. -Love for him was enough,—as indeed it should be enough for us all if -only we will understand it in its highest sense. Shall we ever -understand?—or never? -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch44"> -XLIV. -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">The</span> vespers over, the little party of English visitors passed out of -the chapel into the corridor. There they waited in silence, the -emotions of two of them at least, being sufficiently exalted to make -any attempt at conversation difficult. It was not however very long -before Féraz or “Brother Sebastian” joined them, and led them as -though by some involuntary instinct into the flower-grown quadrangle, -where two or three of the monks were now to be seen pacing up and down -in the strong red sunset-light with books open in their hands, pausing -ever and anon in their slow walk to speak to El-Râmi, who sat, as -before, alone under the boughs of the cedar-tree. One of the tame -doves that had previously been seen nestling at his feet, had now -taken up its position on his knee, and was complacently huddled down -there, allowing itself to be stroked, and uttering crooning sounds of -satisfaction as his hand passed caressingly over its folded white -wings. Féraz said very little as he escorted all his guests up to -within a yard or so of El-Râmi’s secluded seat,—but Lady Vaughan -paused irresolutely, gazing timidly and with something of awe at the -quiet reposeful figure, the drooped head, the delicate dark hand that -stroked the dove’s wings,—and as she looked and strove to realise -that this gentle, submissive, meditative, hermit-like man was indeed -the once proud and indomitable El-Râmi, a sudden trembling came over -her, and a rush of tears blinded her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot speak to him”—she whispered sobbingly to her husband—“He -looks so far away,—I am sure he is not here with us at all!” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Frederick, distressed at his wife’s tears, murmured something -soothing,—but he too was rendered nervous by the situation and he -could find no words in which to make his feelings intelligible. So, as -before, Irene Vassilius took the initiative. Going close up to -El-Râmi, she with a quick yet graceful impulsiveness threw herself in -a half-kneeling attitude before him. -</p> - -<p> -“El-Râmi!” she said. -</p> - -<p> -He started, and stared down upon her amazedly,—yet was careful in all -his movements not to disturb the drowsing white dove upon his knee. -</p> - -<p> -“Who calls me?” he demanded—“Who speaks?” -</p> - -<p> -“I call you”—replied Irene, regardless how her quite unconventional -behaviour might affect the Vaughans as onlookers—“I ask you, dear -friend, to listen to me. I want to tell you that I am happy—very -happy,—and that before I go, you must give me your blessing.” -</p> - -<p> -A pathetic pain and wonderment crossed El-Râmi’s features. He looked -helplessly at Féraz,—for though he did not recognise him as his -brother, he was accustomed to rely upon him for everything. -</p> - -<p> -“This is very strange!” he faltered—“No one has ever asked me for a -blessing. Make her understand that I have no power at all to do any -good by so much as a word or a thought. I am a very poor and ignorant -man—quite at God’s mercy.” -</p> - -<p> -Féraz bent above him with a soothing gesture. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear El-Râmi,” he said—“this lady honours you. You will wish her -well ere she departs from us,—that is all she seeks.” -</p> - -<p> -El-Râmi turned again towards Irene, who remained perfectly quiet in -the attitude she had assumed. -</p> - -<p> -“I thought,”—he murmured slowly—“I thought you were an angel; it -seems you are a woman. Sometimes they are one and the same thing. Not -often, but sometimes. Women are wronged,—much wronged,—when God -endows them, they see farther than we do. But you must not honour -me,—I am not worthy to be honoured. A little child is much wiser than -I am. Of course I must wish you well—I could not do otherwise. You -see this poor bird,”—and he again stroked the dove which now dozed -peacefully—“I wish it well also. It has its mate and its hole in the -dove-cote, and numberless other little joys,—I would have it always -happy,—and ... so—I would have you always happy too. And,—most -assuredly, if you desire it, I will say—‘God bless you!’” -</p> - -<p> -Here he seemed to collect his thoughts with some effort,—his dark -brows contracted perplexedly,—then, after a minute, his expression -brightened, and, as if he had just remembered something, he carefully -and with almost trembling reverence, made the sign of the cross above -Irene’s drooping head. She gently caught the hovering hand and kissed -it. He smiled placidly, like a child who is caressed. -</p> - -<p> -“You are very good to me”—he said—“I am quite sure you are an angel. -And being so, you need no blessing—God knows His own, and always -claims them ... in the end.” -</p> - -<p> -He closed his eyes languidly then and seemed fatigued,—his hand still -mechanically stroked the dove’s wings. They left him so, moving away -from him with hushed and cautious steps. He had not noticed Sir -Frederick or Lady Vaughan,—and they were almost glad of this, as they -were themselves entirely disinclined to speak. To see so great a wreck -of a once brilliant intellect was a painful spectacle to good-natured -Sir Frederick,—while on Lady Vaughan it had the effect of a severe -nervous shock. She thought she would have been better able to bear the -sight of a distracted and howling maniac, than the solemn pitifulness -of that silent submission, that grave patience of a physically strong -man transformed, as it were, into a child. They walked round the -court, Féraz gathering as he went bouquets of roses and jessamine and -passiflora for the two ladies. -</p> - -<p> -“He seems comfortable and happy”—Sir Frederick ventured to remark at -last. -</p> - -<p> -“He is, perfectly so”—rejoined Féraz. “It is very rarely that he is -depressed or uneasy. He may live on thus till he is quite old, they -tell me,—his physical health is exceptionally good.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you will always stay with him?” said Irene. -</p> - -<p> -“Can you ask, Madame!” and Féraz smiled—“It is my one joy to serve -him. I grieve sometimes that he does not know me really, who I -am,—but I have a secret feeling that one day that part of the cloud -will lift, and he <i>will</i> know. For the rest he is pleased and soothed -to have me near him,—that is all I desire. He did everything for me -once,—it is fitting I should do everything for him now. God is -good,—and in His measure of affliction there is always a great -sweetness.” -</p> - -<p> -“Surely you do not think it well for your brother to have lost the -control of his brilliant intellectual faculties?” asked Sir Frederick, -surprised. -</p> - -<p> -“I think everything well that God designs”—answered Féraz gently, -now giving the flowers he had gathered, to Irene and Lady Vaughan, and -looking, as he stood in his white robes against a background of rosy -sunset-light, like a glorified young saint in a picture,—“El-Râmi’s -intellectual faculties were far too brilliant, too keen, too -dominant,—his great force and supremacy of will too absolute. With -such powers as he had he would have ruled this world, and lost the -next. That is, he would have gained the Shadow and missed the -Substance. No, no—it is best as it is. ‘Except ye become as little -children, ye shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven!’ That is a true -saying. In the Valley of Humiliation the birds of paradise sing, and -in El-Râmi’s earth-darkness there are gleams of the Light Divine. I -am content,—and so, I firmly and devoutly believe, is he.” -</p> - -<p> -With this, and a few more parting words, the visitors now prepared to -take their leave. Suddenly Irene Vassilius perceived an exquisite rose -hanging down among the vines that clambered about the walls of the -little monastery;—a rose pure white in its outer petals but tenderly -tinted with a pale blush pink towards its centre. Acting on her own -impulsive idea, she gathered it, and hastened back alone across the -quadrangle to where El-Râmi sat absorbed and lost in his own drowsy -dreams. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-bye, dear friend,—good-bye!” she said softly, and held the -fragrant beautiful bud towards him. -</p> - -<p> -He opened his sad dark eyes and smiled,—then extended his hand and -took the flower. -</p> - -<p> -“I thank you, little messenger of peace!” he said—“It is a rose from -Heaven,—it is the Soul of Lilith!” -</p> - -<p class="end"> -[FINIS] -</p> - - -<h2 id="fn"> -FOOTNOTES. -</h2> - -<p> -<a href="#fn1a" id="fn1b">[1]</a> -From <i>The Natural Law of Miracles</i>, written in Arabic 400 B.C. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#fn2a" id="fn2b">[2]</a> -This remarkable passage on the admitted effects of hypnotism as -practised by the priests of ancient Egypt will be found in an old -history of the building of the Pyramids entitled—“The Egyptian -Account of the Pyramids”—Written in the Arabic by Murtadi the son of -Gaphiphus—date about 1400. -</p> - -<p> -<a href="#fn3a" id="fn3b">[3]</a> -Copied verbatim from the current Press. -</p> - - -<h2> -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES. -</h2> - -<p> -The edition published by Grosset & Dunlap (NY, 1892) was referenced -for most of the fixes listed below. -</p> - -<p> -The above-mentioned edition’s cover was used for this ebook. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<b>Alterations to the text</b>: -</p> - -<p> -Add TOC. -</p> - -<p> -Assorted punctuation fixes. -</p> - -<p> -Relabel footnote markers, collect footnotes at end of text, and add -an entry to the TOC. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter I] -</p> - -<p> -Change “complex character of the <i>pyschological</i> Dane” to -<i>psychological</i>. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter II] -</p> - -<p> -“in honour of some <i>Serene</i> and <i>Exalted</i> foreign potentate” to -<i>serene</i> and <i>exalted</i>. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter III] -</p> - -<p> -“<i>El Râmi</i>! At last! How late you are!” to <i>El-Râmi</i>. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter VIII] -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Férez</i> gazed at her compassionately and” to <i>Féraz</i>. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter X] -</p> - -<p> -“tell me, is there <i>No</i> answer?” to <i>no</i>. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter XVII] -</p> - -<p> -“The conqueror shall be conquered, El-Râmi <i>Zâranos</i>” to <i>Zarânos</i>. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter XXVIII] -</p> - -<p> -(like those of Féraz’s ideal ladye-love, were) Surround <i>ideal -ladye-love</i> with quotation marks. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter XXXII] -</p> - -<p> -“that there was <i>somethimg</i> in the silent” to <i>something</i>. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter XXXV] -</p> - -<p> -“lines with strange <i>eagernes sand</i> fervour” to <i>eagerness and</i>. -</p> - -<p> -“He will, and as He will! <i>Good night</i>!” to <i>Good-night</i>. -</p> - -<p class="end"> -[End of Text] -</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF LILITH ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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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