Books: Ardath

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"On the contrary it IS, so far as that point goes," said Alwyn
with sudden heat--"I tell you I am amazed,--utterly amazed, that
you, with your intelligence, should uphold such a barbaric idea as
the Divinity of Christ! Human reason revolts at it,--and after
all, make as light of it as you will, reason is the only thing
that exalts us a little above the level of the beasts."

"Nay--the beasts share the gift of reason in common with us,"
replied Heliobas, "and Man only proves his ignorance if he denies
the fact. Often indeed the very insects show superior reasoning
ability to ourselves, any thoroughly capable naturalist would bear
me out in this assertion."

"Well, well!" and Alwyn grew impatient--"reason or no reason, I
again repeat that the legend on which Christianity is founded is
absurd and preposterous,--why, if there were a grain of truth in
it, Judas Iscariot instead of being universally condemned, ought
to be honored and canonized as the first of saints!"

"Must I remind you of your early lesson days?" asked Heliobas
mildly. "You will find it written in a Book you appear to have
forgotten, that Christ expressly prophesied, 'Woe to that man' by
whom He was betrayed. I tell, you, little as you credit it, there
is not a word that the Sinless One uttered while on this earth,
that has not been or shall not be in time fulfilled. But I do not
wish to enter into any controversies with you; you have told me
your story,--I have heard it with interest,--and I may add with
sympathy. You are a poet, struck dumb by Materialism because you
lacked strength to resist the shock,--you would fain recover your
singing-speech--and this is in truth the reason why you have come
to me. You think that if you could gain some of the strange
experiences which others have had while under my influence, you
might win back your lost inspiration--though you do not know WHY
you think this--neither do I--I can only guess."

"And your guess is ... ?" demanded Alwyn with an air of affected
indifference.

"That some higher influence is working for your rescue and
safety," replied Heliobas. "What influence I dare not presume to
imagine, but--there are always angels near!"

"Angels!" Alwyn laughed aloud. "How many more fairy tales are you
going to weave for me out of your fertile Oriental imagination?
Angels! ... See here, my good Heliobas, I am perfectly willing to
grant that you may be a very clever man with an odd prejudice in
favor of Christianity,--but I must request that you will not talk
to me of angels and spirits or any such nonsense, as if I were a
child waiting to be amused, instead of a full-grown man with ..."

"With so full-grown an intellect that it has out-grown God!"
finished Heliobas serenely. "Quite so! Yet angels, after all, are
only immortal Souls such as yours or mine when set free of their
earthly tenements. For instance, when I look at you thus," and he
raised his eyes with a lustrous, piercing glance--"I see the
proud, strong, and rebellious Angel in you far more distinctly
than your outward shape of man ... and you ... when you look at
me--"

He broke off, for Alwyn at that moment sprang from his chair, and,
staring fixedly at him, uttered a quick, fierce exclamation.

"Ah! I know you now!" he cried in sudden and extraordinary
excitement--"I know you well! We have met before!--Why,--after all
that has passed,--do we meet again?"

This singular speech was accompanied by a still more singular
transfiguration of countenance--a dark, fiery glory burned in his
eyes, and, in the stern, frowning wonder and defiance of his
expression and attitude, there was something grand yet terrible,--
menacing yet supernaturally sublime. He stood so for an instant's
space, majestically sombre, like some haughty, discrowned emperor
confronting his conqueror,--a rumbling, long-continued roll of
thunder outside seemed to recall him to himself, and he pressed
his hand tightly down over his eyelids, as though to shut out some
overwhelming vision. After a pause he looked up again,--wildly,
confusedly,--almost beseechingly,--and Heliobas, observing this,
rose and advanced toward him.

"Peace!" he said, in low, impressive tones,--"we have recognized
each other,--but on earth such recognitions are brief and soon
forgotten!" He waited for a few seconds,--then resumed lightly,
"Come, look at me now! ... what do you see?"

"Nothing ... but yourself!" he replied, sighing deeply as he
spoke--"yet ... oddly enough, a moment ago I fancied you had
altogether a different appearance,--and I thought I saw ... no
matter what! ... I cannot describe it!" His brows contracted in a
puzzled line. "It was a curious phenomenon--very curious ... and
it affected me strangely..." he stopped abruptly,--then added,
with a slight flush of annoyance on his face, "I perceive you are
an adept in the art of optical illusion!"

Heliobas laughed softly. "Of course! What else can you expect of a
charlatan, a trickster, and a monk to boot! Deception, deception
throughout, my dear sir! ... and have you not ASKED to be
deceived?"

There was a fine, scarcely perceptible satire in his manner; he
glanced at the tall oaken clock that stood in one corner of the
room--its hands pointed to eleven. "Now, Mr. Alwyn," he went on,
"I think we have talked quite enough for this evening, and my
advice is, that you retire to rest, and think over what I have
said to you. I am willing to help you if I can,--but with your
beliefs, or rather your non-beliefs, I do not hesitate to tell you
frankly that the exertion of MY internal force upon YOURS in your
present condition might be fraught with extreme danger and
suffering. You have spoken of Truth, 'the deathful Truth'; this
being, however, nothing but Truth according to the world's
opinion, which changes with every passing generation, and
therefore is not Truth at all. There is another Truth--the
everlasting Truth--the pivot of all life, which never changes; and
it is with this alone that my science deals. Were I to set you at
liberty as you desire,--were your intelligence too suddenly
awakened to the blinding awfulness of your mistaken notions of
life, death, and futurity, the result might be more overpowering
than either you or I can imagine! I have told you what I can do,--
your incredulity does not alter the fact of my capacity. I can
sever you,--that is, your Soul, which you cannot define, but which
nevertheless exists,--from your body, like a moth from its
chrysalis; but I dare not even picture to myself what scorching
flame the moth might not heedlessly fly into! You might in your
temporary state of release find that new impetus to your thoughts
you so ardently desire, or you might not,--in short, it is
impossible to form a guess as to whether your experience might be
one of supernal ecstasy or inconceivable horror." He paused a
moment,--Alwyn was watching him with a close intentness that
bordered on fascination and presently he continued, "It is best
from all points of view, that you should consider the matter more
thoroughly than you have yet done; think it over well and
carefully until this time to-morrow--then, if you are quite
resolved--"

"I am resolved NOW!" said Alwyn slowly and determinately. "If you
are so certain of your influence, come! ... unbar my chains! ...
open the prison-door! Let me go hence to-night; there is no time
like the present!"

"To night!" and Heliobas turned his keen, bright eyes full upon
him, with a look of amazement and reproach--"To night' without
faith, preparation or prayer, you are willing to be tossed through
the realms of space like a grain of dust in a whirling tempest?
Beyond the glittering gyration of unnumbered stars--through the
sword-like flash of streaming comets--through darkness--through
light--through depths of profoundest silence--over heights of
vibrating sound--you--YOU will dare to wander in these God-
invested regions--you a blasphemer and a doubter of God!"

His voice thrilled with passion,--his aspect was so solemn, and
earnest, and imposing that Alwyn, awed and startled, remained for
a moment mute--then, lifting his head proudly, answered--

"Yes, I DARE! If I am immortal I will test my immortality! I will
face God and find these angels you talk about! What shall prevent
me?"

"Find the angels!" Heliobas surveyed him sadly as he spoke. "Nay!
... pray rather that they may find THEE!" He looked long and
steadfastly at Alwyn's countenance, on which there was just then
the faint glimmer of a rather mocking smile,--and as he looked,
his own face darkened suddenly into an expression of vague trouble
and uneasiness--and a strange quiver passed visibly through him
from head to foot.

"You are bold, Mr. Alwyn,"--he said at last, moving a little away
from his guest and speaking with some apparent effort--"bold to a
fault, but at the same time you are ignorant of all that lies
behind the veil of the Unseen. I should be much to blame if I sent
you hence to-night, utterly unguided--utterly uninstructed. I
myself must think--and pray--before I venture to incur so terrible
a responsibility. To-morrow perhaps--to-night, no! I cannot--
moreover I will not!"

Alwyn flushed hotly with anger. "Trickster!" he thought. "He feels
he has no power over me, and he fears to run the risk of failure!"

"Did I hear you aright?" he said aloud in cold determined accents.
"You cannot? you will not? ... By Heaven!"--and his voice rose, "I
say you SHALL!" As he uttered these words a rush of indescribable
sensations overcame him,--he seemed all at once invested with some
mysterious, invincible, supreme authority,--he felt twice a man
and more than half a god, and moved by an irresistible impulse
which he could neither explain nor control, he made two or three
hasty steps forward,--when Heliobas, swiftly retreating, waved him
off with an eloquent gesture of mingled appeal and menace.

"Back! back!" he cried warningly. "If you come one inch nearer to
me I cannot answer for your safety--back, I say! Good God! you do
not know your OWN power!"

Alwyn scarcely heeded him,--some fatal attraction drew him on, and
he still advanced, when all suddenly he paused, trembling
violently. His nerves began to throb acutely,--the blood in his
veins was like fire,--there was a curious strangling tightness in
his throat that interrupted and oppressed his breathing,--he
stared straight before him with large, luminous, impassioned eyes.
What--WHAT was that dazzling something in the air that flashed and
whirled and shone like glittering wheels of golden flame? His lips
parted ... he stretched out his hands in the uncertain manner of a
blind man feeling his way ... "Oh God! ... God!" ... he muttered
as though stricken by some sudden amazement,--then, with a
smothered, gasping cry, he staggered and fell heavily forward on
the floor--insensible!

At the self-same instant the window blew open, with a loud crash--
it swung backward and forward on its hinges, and a torrent of rain
poured through it slantwise into the room. A remarkable change had
taken place in the aspect and bearing of Heliobas,--he stood as
though rooted to the spot, trembling from head to foot,--he had
lost all his usual composure,--he was deathly pale, and breathed
with difficulty. Presently recovering himself a little he strove
to shut the swinging casement, but the wind was so boisterous,
that he had to pause a moment to gain strength for the effort, and
instinctively he glanced out at the tempestuous night. The clouds
were scurrying over the sky like great black vessels on a foaming
sea,--the lightning flashed incessantly, and the thunder
reverberated Over the mountains in tremendous volleys as of
besieging cannon. Stinging drops of icy sleet dashed his face and
the front of his white garb as he inhaled the stormy freshness of
the strong, upward-sweeping blast for a few seconds--and then,
with the air of one gathering together all his scattered forces,
he shut to the window firmly and barred it across. Turning now to
the unconscious Alwyn, he lifted him from the floor to a low couch
near at hand, and there laid him gently down. This done, he stood
looking at him with an expression of the deepest anxiety, but made
no attempt to rouse him from his death-like swoon. His own
habitual serenity was completely broken through,--he had all the
appearance of having received some unexpected and overwhelming
shock,--his very lips were blanched and quivered nervously.

He waited for several minutes, attentively watching the recumbent
figure before him, till gradually,--very gradually,--that figure
took upon itself the pale, stern beauty of a corpse from which
life has but recently and painlessly departed. The limbs grew
stiff and rigid--the features smoothed into that mysteriously wise
placidity which is so often seen in the faces of the dead,--the
closed eyelids looked purple and livid as though bruised ... there
was not a breath, not a tremor, to offer any outward suggestion of
returning animation,--and when, after some little time, Heliobas
bent down and listened, there was no pulsation of the heart ... it
had ceased to beat! To all appearances Alwyn was DEAD--any
physician would have certified the fact, though how he had come by
his death there was no evidence to show. And in that condition,
... stirless, breathless ... white as marble, cold and inanimate
as stone, Heliobas left him. Not in indifference, but in sure
knowledge--knowledge far beyond all mere medical science--that the
senseless clay would in due time again arise to life and motion;
that the casket was but temporarily bereft of its jewel,--and that
the jewel itself, the Soul of the Poet, had by a superhuman access
of will, managed to break its bonds and escape elsewhere. But
whither? ... Into what vast realms of translucent light or drear
shadow? ... This was a question to which the mystic monk, gifted
as he was with a powerful spiritual insight into "things unseen
and eternal," could find no satisfactory answer, and in his
anxious perplexity he betook himself to the chapel, and there, by
the red glimmer of the crimson star that shone dimly above the
altar, he knelt alone and prayed in silence till the heavy night
had passed, and the storm had slain itself with the sword of its
own fury on the dark slopes of the Pass of Dariel.

CHAPTER IV.

"ANGELUS DOMINE."

The next morning dawned pallidly over a sea of gray mist--not a
glimpse of the landscape was visible--nothing but a shadowy
vastness of floating vapor that moved slowly fold upon fold, wave
upon wave, as though bent on blotting out the world. A very faint,
chill light peered through the narrow arched window of the room
where Alwyn lay, still wrapped in that profound repose, so like
the last long sleep from which some of our modern scientists tell
us there can be no awakening. His condition was unchanged,--the
wan beams of the early clay falling cross his features intensified
their waxen stillness and pallor,--the awful majesty of death was
on him,--the pathetic helplessness and perishableness of Body
without Spirit. Presently the monastery bell began to ring for
matins, and as its clear chime struck through the deep silence,
the door opened, and Heliobas, accompanied by another monk, whose
gentle countenance and fine, soft eyes betokened the serenity of
his disposition, entered the apartment. Together they approached
the couch, and gazed long and earnestly at the supernaturally
slumbering man.

"He is still far away!" said Heliobas at last, sighing as he
spoke. "So far away that my mind misgives me. ... Alas, Hilarion!
how limited is our knowledge! ... even with all the spiritual aids
of spiritual life how little can be accomplished! We learn one
thing, and another presents itself--we conquer one difficulty, and
another instantly springs up to obstruct our path. Now if I had
only had the innate perception required to foresee the possible
flight of this released Immortal. creature, might I not have saved
it from some incalculable misery and suffering?"

"I think not," answered in rather musing accents the monk called
Hilarion--"I think not. Such protection can never be exercised by
mere human intelligence, if this soul is to be saved or shielded
in its invisible journeying it will be by some means that not all
the marvels of our science can calculate. You say he was without
faith?"

"Entirely"

"What was his leading principle?"

"A desire for what he called Truth," replied Heliobas.

"He, like many others of his class, never took the trouble to
consider very deeply the inner meaning of Pilate's famous
question, 'What IS Truth?' WE know what it is, as generally
accepted--a few so called facts which in a thousand years will all
be contradicted, mixed up with a few finite opinions propounded by
unstable minded men. In brief, Truth, according to the world, is
simply whatever the world is pleased to consider as Truth for the
time being. 'Tis a somewhat slight thing to stake one's immortal
destinies upon!"

Hilarion raised one of Alwyn's cold, pulseless hands--it was
stiff, and white as marble.

"I suppose," he said, "there is no doubt of his returning hither?"

"None whatever," answered Heliobas decisively. "His life on earth
is assured for many years yet,--inasmuch as his penance is not
finished, his recompense not won. Thus far my knowledge of his
fate is certain."

"Then you will bring him back to-day?" pursued Hilarion.

"Bring him back? I? I cannot!" said Heliobas, with a touch of sad
humility in his tone. "And for this very reason I feared to send
him hence,--and would not have done so,--not without preparation
at any rate,--could I have had my way. His departure was more
strange than any I have ever known--moreover, it was his own
doing, not mine. I had positively refused to exert my influence
upon him, because I felt he was not in my sphere, and that
therefore neither I nor any of those higher intelligences with
which I am in communication could control or guide his wanderings.
He, however, was as positively determined that I SHOULD exert it--
and to this end he suddenly concentrated all the pent up fire of
his nature in one rapid effort of Will, and advanced upon me. ...
I warned him, but in vain! quick as lightning flash meets
lightning flash, the two invisible Immortal Forces within us
sprang into instant opposition,--with this difference, that while
he was ignorant and unconscious of HIS power, I was cognizant and
fully conscious of MINE. Mine was focused, as it were, upon him,--
his was untrained and. scattered,--the result was that mine won
the victory: yet understand me well, Hilarion,--if I could have
held myself in, I would have done so. It was he,--he who DREW my
force out of me as one would draw a sword out of its scabbard--the
sword may be ever so stiffly fixed in its sheath, but the strong
hand will wrench it forth somehow, and use it for battle when
needed."

"Then," said Hilarion wonderingly, "you admit this man possesses a
power greater than your own?"

"Aye, if he knew it!" returned Heliobas, quietly. "But he does not
know. Only an angel could teach him--and in angels he does not
believe."

"He may believe now. ... !"

"He may. He will--he must, ... if he has gone where I would have
him go."

"A poet, is he not!" queried Hilarion softly, bending down to look
more attentively at the beautiful Antinous-like face colorless and
cold as sculptured alabaster.

"An uncrowned monarch of a world of song!" responded Heliobas,
with a tender inflection in his rich voice. "A genius such as the
earth sees but once in a century! But he has been smitten with the
disease of unbelief and deprived of hope,--and where there is no
hope there is no lasting accomplishment." He paused, and with a
touch as gentle as a woman's, rearranged the cushions under
Alwyn's heavy head, and laid his hand in grave benediction on the
broad white brow shaded by its clustering waves of dark hair. "May
the Infinite Love bring him out of danger into peace and safety!"
he said solemnly,--then turning away, he took his companion by the
arm, and they both left the room, closing the door quietly behind
them. The chapel bell went on tolling slowly, slowly, sending
muffled echoes through the fog for some minutes--then it ceased,
and profound stillness reigned.

The monastery was always a very silent habitation,--situated as it
was on so lofty and barren a crag, it was far beyond the singing-
reach of the smaller sweet-throated birds--now and then an eagle
clove the mist with a whirr of wings and a discordant scream on
his way toward some distant mountain eyrie--but no other sound of
awakening life broke the hush of the slowly widening dawn. An hour
passed--and Alwyn still remained in the same position,--as
pallidly quiescent as a corpse stretched out for burial. By and by
a change begin to thrill mysteriously through the atmosphere, like
the flowing of amber wine through crystal--the heavy vapors
shuddered together as though suddenly lashed by a whip of flame,--
they rose, swayed to and fro, and parted asunder. ... then,
dissolving into thin, milk-white veils of fleecy film, they
floated away, disclosing as they vanished, the giant summits of
the encircling mountains, that lifted themselves to the light, one
above another, in the form of frozen billows. Over these a
delicate pink flush flitted in tremulous wavy lines--long arrows
of gold began to pierce the tender shimmering blue of the sky--
soft puffs of cloud tinged with vivid crimson and pale green were
strewn along the eastern horizon like flowers in the path of an
advancing hero,--and then all at once there was a slight cessation
of movement in the heavens--an attentive pause as though the whole
universe waited for some great splendor as yet unrevealed. That
splendor came, in a red blaze of triumph the Sun rose, pouring a
shower of beamy brilliancy over the white vastness of the heights
covered with perpetual snow,--jagged peaks, sharp as scimetars and
sparkling with ice, caught fire, and seemed to melt away in an
absorbing sea of radiance, ... the waiting clouds moved on,
redecked in deeper hues of royal purple--and the full Morning
glory was declared. As the dazzling effulgence streamed through
the window and flooded the couch where Alwyn lay, a faint tinge of
color returned to his face,--his lips moved,--his broad chest
heaved with struggling sighs,--his eyelids quivered,--and his
before rigid hands relaxed and folded themselves together in an
attitude of peace and prayer. Like a statue becoming slowly and
magically flushed with life, the warm hues of the naturally
flowing blood deepened through the whiteness of his skin,--his
breathing grew more and more easy and regular,--his features
gradually assumed their wonted appearance, and presently ...
without any violent start or exclamation ... he awoke! But was it
a real awakening? or rather a continuation of some strange
impression received in slumber?

He rose to his feet, pushing back the hair from his brow with an
entranced look of listening wonderment--his eyes were humid yet
brilliant--his whole aspect was that of one inspired. He paced
once or twice up and down the room, but he was evidently
unconscious of his surroundings--he seemed possessed by thoughts
which absorbed his whole being. Presently he seated himself at the
table, and absently fingering the writing materials that were upon
it, he appeared meditatively to question their use and meaning.
Then, drawing several sheets of paper toward him, he began to
write with extraordinary rapidity and eagerness--his pen travelled
on smoothly, uninterrupted by blot or erasure. Sometimes he
paused--but when he did it was always with an upraised,
attentively listening expression. Once he murmured aloud "ARDATH!
Nay, I shall not forget!--we will meet at ARDATH!" and again he
resumed his occupation. Page after page he covered with close
writing-no weak, uncertain scrawl, but a firm bold, neat
caligraphy,--his own peculiar, characteristic hand. The sun
mounted higher and higher in the heavens, ... hour after hour
passed, and still lie wrote on, apparently unaware of the flitting
time. At mid-day the bell, which had not rung since early dawn,
began to swing quickly to and fro in the chapel turret,--the deep
bass of the organ breathed on the silence a thunderous monotone,
and a bee-like murmur of distant voices proclaimed the words:
"Angelas Domine nuntiavit Mariae"

At the first sound of this chant, the spell that enchained Alwyn's
mind was broken; drawing a quick dashing line under what he had
written, he sprang up erect and dropped his pen.

"Heliobas!" he cried loudly, "Heliobas! WHERE IS THE FIELD OF
ARDATH?"

His voice seemed strange and unfamiliar to his own ears,--he
waited, listening, and the chant went on--"Et Verbo caro factus
est, et habitavit in nobis."

Suddenly, as if he could endure his solitude no longer, he rushed
to the door and threw it open, thereby nearly flinging himself
against Heliobas, who was entering the room at the same moment. He
drew back, ... stared wildly, and passing his hand across his
forehead confusedly, forced a laugh.