Part 21

The girl was clothed in a loose flowing robe of dazzling white, which was fastened at the breast by a brooch in which shone a luminous transparent stone similar to the one which Sydney had described as worn at Aphar by the high priestess; but notwithstanding the test of such a contrast, her complexion looked more pure, more ethereal than it is possible to conceive in any setting. It seemed as though alabaster had been faintly tinted with the pearly shade of the most delicate rose-leaf. As she came forward each movement told of perfectly developed bodily strength and graceful power, while the clear brightness of her deep blue eyes and the warm colour of her lips showed how health alone can give the true finish without which the most perfect beauty is marred, or for the time partially lost. Yet with all her charm of attraction she seemed as unconscious of the effect produced by her as though she were still a little child. She came up to me with both her hands held out, and taking one of mine into each of hers, looked up with a bright smile into my face.

"Perhaps you think," she said, "that I have forgotten you; but if so you are mistaken. It is ten years ago, and I was only seven then, but Alan has taken care to keep my memory fresh, and sometimes he has let me see you."

"But why," I said, "should you want to see me? You cannot possibly care about such an old selfish being."

"Of course I care," she answered; "are you not his friend? And whom he cares for, I care for; whom he loves, I love."

As she said this she looked at Sydney, and I saw for the first time the expression of true, pure, and perfect love.

We had talked for some time on various subjects, when Vera turned to me and said--

"You already know much of my past, a knowledge which has only recently been revealed to me. But there is much still that you do not know because he who told you was the man who loved me. Nor is it necessary for me to bring before you further scenes of humiliation, when I wandered blindly in the path of disorder and pain, ever refusing the guiding light of love held out to me. But," she continued, getting up and kneeling beside Sydney, "before we go, before we enter into the glorious life of joy, to the threshold of which my love at length has guided me, I should like to give you some idea of my feeling toward the man who has thus through pain and trial, with no return save the basest ingratitude, ever been faithful to one so unworthy of his devotion."

As she said this she looked up into the face of her lover, and drawing him down to her, kissed him on the lips.

For a moment she seemed to forget my presence as she turned to Sydney, and cried, "My beloved, who through the dark valley has been beside me; who with the unselfishness of divine compassion has forgiven cruelty and unfaithfulness, thinking not of the worthlessness of the one beloved but only feeling her weakness; whatsoever I am is thine, without thee there can be no joy, no perfect completion, no future life, no eternal glory!"

But Sydney stopped her. "Dearest," he said, "it is enough. The past is gone; through the weakness that once you had, came that strength which has been our salvation. Through selfishness has come self-renunciation; through sorrow, more exceeding joy; through doubt and perplexity, eternal hope and trust. If your growth has been dependent upon me, so has my growth on you; each soul acting and reacting on the other from without. And still shall it ever be, save that in future the influence shall be internal, not external, and the darkness shall have passed away."

For a few moments there was silence; then Vera turned to me and said, "Would that you too could know this great joy."

"I have not lived to deserve it," I replied, "yet it gives me the greatest happiness to see you here."

"Deserved it," she replied, "and how do I deserve it? When first the truth became known to me in vision after vision of my past, I thought I should have died of shame and sorrow. Before that I believed that I was more or less worthy of Alan's love, but then it seemed impossible."

She buried her face in her hands.

"Hush!" Sydney said. "Let us speak of brighter things. No spirit can look upon the past without wonder and shame. Let us thank God that when its lessons are over, these things shall be wiped out and all things become new."

"Should you mind," I said, addressing Vera, "letting me know something of your life since we last met?"

"There is not much," she replied, "that I may tell, but I will do my best. After leaving you we travelled together, seeing many places of interest on the way; for you must remember that it was impossible for me to quit the body, and Alan would not leave me. At length we came to the plateau of which you have already heard, and I was admitted through the secret passage to the enclosure. On arriving there I was taken alone into the beautiful temple and dedicated to the service of the Almighty Father. For eight years I lived with the priestess, who educated me in the knowledge which comes to us through the spiritual sense. But beside what she taught me I saw Alan often and learned many things from him. These times were the most delightful, for though always happy, a new strange joy filled my heart whenever I was brought into his presence. I felt somehow that I belonged to him, and when he left there was a void which nothing else could fill.

"Time passed very quickly, there was so much to do. I was trained to perfect my body as well as my spirit, and to bring every faculty into obedience to my will. At last I was admitted as priestess to the temple, and then for the first time my spirit was allowed to go free, and to commune with the other spirits which surround us. But though increasing day by day in power, I knew as yet nothing of the past. For some time I was not allowed to go forth alone, but one day it was decided that I should have no companion, but go whither I would and learn whatsoever I desired. And I desired greatly to know of my past, and what was the mysterious bond which bound me to the man I love. Then was my history revealed. And it came to pass that after the visions, so great was my humiliation, so fearful did it seem to go back and face one who had thus loved me and whom I had so grievously wronged, that my soul, dreading to return to the body, waited: still longing for the sight of the beloved, while ashamed to meet him. Then a spirit, more beautiful than any I had yet seen, came near to me, and its thought passed to me in this wise:

"'Dost thou not know, frail spirit, who hath been permitted to visit the unseen world even though thy body is still on earth, that if thou tarriest here much longer, the earthly form will perish, and it will be impossible for thee to finish thy work on earth save in some future state?'

"And I answered, 'It is even so, yet dare I not return and meet one who has been deeply wronged by me in the past.'

"Then the spirit spoke again. 'Yet he whom thou hast wronged hath borne with thee all these many years, and hath not grown weary of his love. Why shouldest thou fear even now when the past is over? Wouldest thou then desire once more to be born again and bring to him even this further pain? Hath he not waited long for thee in patience, and wilt thou at the moment of fulfilment cause him the needless suffering of hope delayed? Forget thyself, child of earth, and think only of the sorrow that such an action would cause. What is thy humiliation? Tarry not, but walk bravely in the path of duty.'

"Then seeing that selfishness was still holding me back, I came in haste to the temple. It was night, and I knew that days had passed by since my spirit had left its body entranced. Might it not even now be too late to return? I looked down. The light of the moon fell softly through the trellis-work of the arches. A delicate strain of music passed with me as I moved, but from below only the soft plash of the fountain disturbed the silence of earth. I saw the body my spirit had so long forsaken still reclining upon the cushions which had been laid over the mosaic floor. Was I too late? Had the trance stage passed on to death?

"Kneeling over my prostrate form I could distinguish the figure of a man, and knew that my lover still watched and waited. Otherwise the temple was deserted. Then I heard Alan speak.

"'Vera, come back! Would that it were possible for my spirit to come to yours, but it may not be. Can you not trust me? Can you doubt my love? Oh! before it is too late, return! Must we again be parted even when it seemed that the time had at last arrived for our eternal union?'

"In a moment I had regained my bodily form. I rose, dazed by my long trance, and fell upon my knees before my lover who now stood over me, his face radiant with joy.

"'Forgive me,' I cried, 'forgive me!'"

Vera paused, and Sydney turned to me with a smile.

"Rather a difficult request, was it not?"

I looked at the exquisite face of the girl before me and said, "Sydney, mysterious though it seems, God's wondrous wisdom must have been manifested to you at such a moment."

"'Yes," he replied, "if man never passed through darkness into light, through sin into holiness, God could never love us as he does, could never feel the joy with which such a prayer must fill his soul."

After talking for some little time longer we passed to the other room. Vera had promised to sing to me before they went. She sung the following song; the music, the strange unearthly beauty of her voice, are beyond my words to describe. I listened with closed eyes; earth, for the moment, seemed to slip away from me, and the gates of heaven to be thrown open.

When Love's fair flower uncloses, And Pain has lost her hold, When Grief for once reposes, And Joy's bright wings unfold, Listen! Listen! as you pass along! Sweetly, yet how softly, Hope breathes forth her song! No longer drowned by tumult, Her never silent voice Shall whisper on for ever, "Rejoice! and still rejoice!"

She sings to children sleeping; She lies on Love's light breath, Faith weaves her words with weeping, To form the song of death. Listen! Listen! you will hear her say, "Joy shall last for ever, Grief must pass away." The lost still linger near you, Oh! lift with them your voice, To swell our joyful chorus, "Rejoice! and still rejoice!"

And as our souls grow nearer Souls in the world above, Ever the song grows clearer, Till life is lost in love! Waken! Listen! Still the same glad strain! Deeper now and fuller! swells the glad refrain! Till with the host of Heaven, We also raise our voice, And hear earth's distant echo, "Rejoice! and still rejoice!"

For a few moments after the song was finished I sat overpowered with a feeling of indescribable peace. When I looked up the room was empty, my friends had gone.

THE END

_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bungay._