Part 7

They had mercifully discovered a cavity in one of the rocks, and there on a bed of grey moss they had slumbered fitfully, almost too exhausted to find any deep repose. And when morning came it looked down upon two haggard mortals sitting side by side, crushed one against the other, in dire distress. Their faces were pinched and livid; their teeth chattered with cold; their eyes, surrounded by deep circles of fatigue, searched about them in questioning misery. Within their numbed fingers they held an empty box!... But Eric's spirit was still undaunted. He meant to win! That night his dream had risen again before his eyes, more vivid and fascinating than ever.

Lately his advance had been so tedious, the efforts needed to overcome the difficulties so great, that all his faculties had been concentrated upon the single desire to save his own life and that of the child; so that the vision of the outset had been losing some of its power.

He staggered to his feet; the child hung a dead weight round his neck, she was quite unable to make further effort. What should he do? He could not leave her to perish here, this dear companion of the mountain tops!

Yet thus encumbered, how could he reach the final height? His strength was spent, his feet were bleeding, his clothes were torn, the wounds of the night before were a throbbing agony beneath the clinging arms of the little girl.

He felt that they were breaking open anew, that his warm blood was slowly trickling down on to the snow, and with each drop that fell his life seemed to be oozing slowly away. And there far above, like the tantalizing vision out of an ethereal world, rose the peak of his desire.

Again the rays of the sun reddened its crown like a glowing flower. Was it mocking him in his mortal distress? Was it luring him on to life or to death? But he must mount, always farther; he could not give up now within sight of his goal! Courage! Courage! He must conquer and win! But what were those white arms beckoning to him out of the morning mist? What were those veils of transparent vapour waving to him from the rock above? Were they apparitions out of some fantastic dream, some hallucination of his tired brain?

Anyhow he would desperately follow them, perhaps they would help him in his distress; but the higher he climbed the farther did the beckoning figures always recede; each time he had thought to reach the height where they stood he saw them far away hovering above him on some steep boulder, which again he scaled only to be baffled anew.

It was an awful pursuit, the heavy child clinging around his neck, his open wounds dripping, leaving red traces wherever he passed.

His shoes had been cut almost to shreds by the rugged rocks, so that his feet suffered an agony of pain.

A blind rage seized him against these spirits of the wilds who mocked his cruel plight; and yet, had he but known it, it was just their alluring aloofness that was helping him upon his final climb. His overwhelming longing to reach those ethereal beings with whom he hoped to find rest gave him the energy to clamber always farther, the intensity of his desire infusing almost superhuman force into his attenuated body.

Suddenly he stopped with a gasp, almost letting the child fall from his arms;--other visions were now before him floating amongst the clouds.

The indistinct apparitions had taken form, changing into white-winged angels all flying upwards, their long trailing garments mingling with the mist.

Ah! these would lead him to his last height! These celestial beings had been sent from heaven to help him in his bitterest need.

Looking down at the child in his arms, he saw that her face was deadly pale, her eyes were shut, the long lashes cast deep shadows on her sunken cheeks.

Indeed it was time to reach some shelter where he could lay her down.

Then raising his head a cry escaped his lips ... there close before him he espied the great peak which had always appeared so absolutely beyond his reach.

There it stood, enormous and majestic, an overpowering revelation rising out of the filmy clouds--clouds that were one mass of white-robed angels, their wings bearing them upwards, their arms extended in gestures of welcome towards this pilgrim of the heights!

Eric ran forward, all his remaining energy gathered together in one last supreme effort. The blood sang in his ears, his breath came in tormented gasps, his heart beat like a giant hammer, and wherever he passed the hard stones bore marks of his dripping wounds.

With one arm he pressed his heavy burden against him, with the other he hoisted himself higher and higher, clambering with dogged persistence, ignoring both pain and danger, always onwards, his enraptured eyes fixed in an ecstasy of hope on the heavenly host that was showing him the way ... and now ... and now ... he was lying face downwards on the hard snow-covered rock, his arms outstretched over the motionless body of the little girl.

He had reached the top, he had not failed!... he had really won!

Long he lay in completest exhaustion unable to move, almost unable to think, or even to feel. Around him the mists rose and fell like a restless foam-covered sea!

Slowly he lifted his head, and what first met his gaze was the face of the child.

With a startled exclamation he took it in both his hands; but it rested there limp and inert with tightly shut eyes. Convulsed with fear he bent towards it, pressing his lips upon the silent mouth, covering the waxen face with eager caresses, chafing the frozen hands, the tiny bare feet, calling to it words of love and endearment, begging it to look up and speak.

But all in vain; no responsive smile came to the blanched lips, and when he let her slip from his arms the wee body fell back, a poor little heap, upon the ground.

Then Eric covered his face with his hands and sobbed as if his heart would break.

Thus did he remain completely overcome, in frightful distress. Oh, why--oh, why had he been unable to save her treasured life? Why, why was he alive while she was dead? Why had all his efforts been in vain? Why had he reached his goal only to be crushed by this bitter grief? O God! O God! What was the use of such a thing?

But what was that? Over his head the sound of wings.... He let his hands fall from his tear-stained face, and looking up into the blue, blue sky above, overcome with wonder he discerned two shining angels who held within their arms the form of the poor little maid....

They mounted always farther into space, and as they did so he saw the humble companion of his wanderings all bright and transfigured, like unto the angels themselves.

Before they disappeared into that vast splendour of blue, she bent toward him a face full of love and gratitude, bearing an expression of heavenly peace which descended upon his soul, revealing unto him that henceforward he need grieve for her no more.

XVIII

But the joy that is one with sorrow Treads an immortal way.

FIONA MACLEOD.

Eric remained for a long while, his face turned to the sky, his eyes fixed upon the spot where the bright vision had melted into the infinite.

Indeed it had been a consoling sight to see the lowly little waif changed into a shining light, her tattered rags turned into a robe as immaculate as those of the ethereal beings who had borne her away into the sky.

God had been merciful; it was better thus; all her fatigue and weariness were at an end, all the scars and wounds had been wiped from her starving body, and when she had looked down upon him it had been with a light of ineffable happiness within her eyes.

But now Eric felt how completely exhausted he was; so throwing himself upon the naked rock, he lay face downwards like one who is dead.

It was many hours before he had strength to raise his head; and when he did so, the glare of noon beat down upon him with life-giving force.

He rose to his feet looking about him, then stood in rapture before what he saw.

The peak upon which he had climbed was far above everything else, overlooking the entire universe; a frowning solitary mass. On three sides of him were mountains and steep, precipitous passes, dark and forbidding, a whole world of mystery and desolation, where human foot would not dare to penetrate; sombre secrets seemed hidden in every crevice.

Over all brooded an implacable silence; light and shade played on the face of the mountains in startling contrast, almost white in places, in others deep indigo; and far away on the horizon the vast immensities dwindled into a mist of blue, like smoke rising out of some giant's caldron.

But at his feet lay what might have been a vision of the promised land, a wondrous revelation of light and beauty--as far as the eye could reach, a blooming plain all shimmering in the radiant sun, out of which a glorious expectation seemed to rise and remain suspended, awaiting some great moment of fulfilment. A heavy ripeness saturated with the glow of harvest was spread over the earth; long roads like silver ribbons wound through this vast richness, and they were like never-ending illusions, leading always farther into a blessed region of dreams.

Broad rivers shone like molten metal as they slowly flowed between fruitful banks, in places bordered by thick forests that stood out in delicate masses against all that treasure of sunshine. A happy country indeed, if only it did not melt away when the foot reached its border.

Something near by now attracted his attention. Beneath where he stood there was a flitting to and fro, a movement in the air, something impalpable and that yet called him back to his more immediate surroundings.

Not very far below he perceived a small dark lake like an enormous eye, sombre and watchful, encased between granite boulders. Around this deep bottomless pool stood all his ghostly followers, watching with absorbed interest the water at their feet.

There was something mysterious and unusual about that green-black surface.

It was dead still; and then, quite unexpectedly, anxious convulsions would shake its depth, and out of its quiet face bubbles would suddenly rise, spreading over the whole till the entire water was covered with enormous dewdrops, and each single drop reflected within its circle the blue of the sky.

Then in places the transparent globes would detach themselves and rise into the air like giant soap-bubbles, floating away into space till they disappeared from sight; and all these bubbles were of such exquisite beauty, and so varied in hue, that Eric imagined he saw colours within them that his eye had never before looked upon.

What was the meaning of it all? What were his silent pursuers doing around that bewitched mountain lake? What were they awaiting? Why did a feeling of silent expectancy rise to where he stood?

Very carefully Eric climbed down towards that curious gathering. Noiselessly he approached, afraid of frightening them away.

As he did so, the shadowy figures one and all turned his way and fell down on their faces in postures of sudden adoration; from over their heads a whispering wind waved towards him, a wind that was full of sighs and hushed voices, like a far-off crowd always crying the same thing. Eric started back abashed, quite at a loss to know what he should do; then to his utmost astonishment he saw how the foremost spirit arose, and, giving him a last look of gratitude, without the slightest warning quietly walked into that uncanny water and disappeared beneath the surface! Following his example all the others did the same! It was but a flash!

Eric threw himself with an exclamation towards the edge, but it was too late! Every trace of them was gone, nothing remained but large circles on the face of the water. Eric looked down into the darkness, and there he saw something rising slowly to the top....

It was the miraculous bubbles. One by one they appeared slowly like some fairy procession; and when they reached the light of day they grew in size, hovered a moment over the dark element, then rose light and joyful into the sky, and as they mounted their colours changed in infinite variety, transparent globes of exquisite beauty.

Close over the water they were green and blue; in rising their hues turned into violet and purple, that gently graduated through every tone of gold and yellow till they were one blaze of flame that quite imperceptibly faded away into the blue of the sky, where they hung suspended, hardly discernible, till at last they were one with the infinite; and that was so high, so high overhead, that it might have been at the very gates of heaven!

Then Eric understood.... These were the lost souls he had freed; all had found rest at last; all had been able to detach themselves from this weary world always higher into the sky.

Had it really been given to him to be their salvation? Had they found eternal peace and joy because he had not fallen on the way? Then indeed no sacrifice had been too great, no trial, no fatigue too vast. And in sign of gratitude they had displayed before his wondering eye the most divine colours he had ever seen, filling his artist soul with the deep joy of beauty for which he never could be thankful enough.

He turned again to look at the pool, and as he did so there on the opposite bank he saw an apparition which made his heart stand still.

A very old man, tall and gaunt, wrapped in grey flowing folds, a thin cloak suspended from his shoulders, a weather-beaten hat shading his face, his long beard falling far down on his breast.

In his hands he clasped a thick stick on which he leaned. With a cry of joy Eric stretched out his hands towards that shadowy figure, for was it not his old and venerated friend the hermit!

The grey vision turned, and with hollow eyes looked at him long and earnestly, with such a wonderful expression of loving affection that it made tears gather in the boy's eyes.

But his beloved old master was also transparent and ghostly like the lost souls that had at last found peace.

Was this his spirit that had left his earthly body? Would God in His mercy grant the beautiful miracle that through his courage and persistence he should also have brought rest and redemption to this weary sinner whose precious words he could never forget?

His whole soul yearned to hear the dear tired voice once more, to drink anew from that source of wisdom which had so refreshed his spirit. Yet he had the cruel apprehension that this joy could be his no more.

"O Father, I want to hear thee speak," he cried, but no answer came from the other side of the dark water.

The old man only continued to stare.

Then an awful despair gripped at Eric's heart, for he felt as if he had lost his dearest treasure.

Why was life so cruelly full of lights and shades? Why was the full cup always dashed from the lips?

"Father, father," he cried, "I do so long for the sound of thy voice; speak, oh, speak, I beseech thee," but there was no response; only silence deep and absolute, and a second later a faint echo of his own words whispering round the granite boulders.

Then something very wonderful was revealed to his sight; there beside the old man stood a shining translucid woman, a woman whose face he could but faintly discern.

Her head was bent back and her two uplifted arms shone like rays of light, pointing to the sky.

Her long robe flowed down, a trailing mist, into the quiet water, where it hung like a cloud. And this filmy vapour wrapped itself round the feet of the man, and as it slowly mounted towards his heart a marvellous change came over the aged hermit; his astounded pupil saw how very gradually all the years rolled from him, how his bent figure became upright, and for a short moment the vision of a manly face full of strength and beauty flashed before his eyes, and then ... everything was gone! A gust of wind swept the whole miracle into the dark lake, where a cloud of smoke alone remained.

The smoke hovered for a second, blue grey over the face of the deep; and then out of the very centre shot a quivering flame, intense and dazzling, that mounted slowly like a tongue of fire, always higher and higher, till it was lost from sight!

XIX

My eager hands press emptiness to my heart, and it bruises my breast.

TAGORE.

Feeling weak and completely overcome by so many conflicting emotions, Eric now began slowly to descend from the mighty height, with an intense and overpowering desire for rest and food.

He was entirely spent, knowing that he could not go much farther unless he found help in his need. This side of the mountain was much less steep than the other; it led down by soft green inclines to the happy land he saw calling to him from below.

Snow and winter, rocks and wilderness were now a thing of the past; this was quite another world, smiling and at peace.

With stumbling feet he dragged himself along.

All zest of having won was wiped out and gone. He only felt an aching longing for the little companion who had abandoned him in the hour of attainment.

Was this for ever the way of the weary earth? Were all victories so sad? He had also an unceasing desire for the voice of his old friend the hermit, knowing that he would have been able to explain what was but dark mystery to his searching mind.

He had the sensation of being completely forsaken and useless, a weary, weary stranger who had no home in this world. As he was pondering, sadly discouraged, both body and mind overwrought with fatigue, he saw the wings of the falcon waving before him, beckoning to him like some trusted friend; and this, at least, gave him a feeling of not being entirely forgotten.

So on he plodded, each limb stiff and painful, his unhealed wounds throbbing like tormented hearts, the hand at his side empty and lonely, missing the confiding touch of the childish fingers.

Heavy with misery, his head sunk on his breast, he followed the bird with faltering step, mechanically climbing always farther down, but a poor ghost of his former self, looking neither to the right nor to the left, for once quite irresponsive to all the beauty around him. He knew not how he advanced, all had become blank and colourless. As the day drew to an end he came to a wide mountain-meadow where a flock of sheep was peacefully grazing.

Before he could realize what was happening he was suddenly attacked on all sides by savage shaggy dogs that barked furiously, showing their teeth, jumping at him, and tearing at his ragged clothes.

Eric was much too tired to oppose any resistance, and no doubt it would have gone badly with him had not a shrill whistle unexpectedly made the dogs stand still, all attention, their ears pointed, listening.

A heavy stick was now flung in their midst scattering them on all sides, so that they turned and ran yelping after the peaceful sheep, masking their discomfiture by wildly scampering round the flock.

Then a quite young boy came running towards where Eric stood in dejected misery, his strength all spent, incapable of moving another step.

The shepherd youth, seeing how sorry was the plight of this stranger, went quickly up to him, and laying a strong arm round his waist asked if he could be of any help.

Eric was unable to answer; he felt the earth yielding beneath his feet; so he simply laid his head on this sturdy peasant's shoulder and let himself be led away, he knew not whither.

It was long before he came back to the knowledge of his surroundings. He must have lain in a deep swoon; but after a time he felt his head being lifted with rough kindness, whilst a bowl of warm milk was held to his parched lips. He drank in great gulps like one utterly famished; drank and drank till not a drop was left. Through his tired brain shot the thought, that hit him like an aching blow, if only his little companion were there to share this life-giving draught; then he sank back with closed eyes, still too weak to care where he was, indifferent if he was to live or die, all his nature one crying need of repose.

He slept many hours; indeed, so deep was his slumber that after a time the shepherd came to where he lay, anxiously putting his hand upon the sleeper's heart, afraid of finding it silent beneath his touch.

But he felt its regular beating against the tips of his fingers; so he left Eric where he had laid him within the humble hut and went out to his flock, leaning upon his long stick, his chin resting on his hands, looking over the mountains that were gradually fading into the shades of night. Here it was already summer, the grass grew thick and green; the cold and frost had been left up there upon the frowning heights; indeed it was a smiling contrast.

Eric slept all that night and through the following day; darkness was again spreading over the world when at last he woke.

He sat up, looking about him, trying with his numbed brain to grasp his whereabouts. The door of the hut stood wide open and close before it a big fire had been lit.

Its crackling reminded Eric, with a pang, of the great blaze that had saved him and the little maid from almost certain death. He saw again the dear soft lips smiling at him from over the jumping flames, remembered how sunken had been her eyes, and with a groan he turned his face to the wall.

But he could not keep still very long; a mighty hunger was gnawing at his vitals, he was in absolute need of finding food; so he rose stiffly from his couch, stretching his aching limbs as he went to the door to look out.

There in the flickering light of the fire sat the shepherd, a beautiful boy with large brown eyes and dark hair hanging to his shoulders, a high fur cap on his head with a flower behind his ear.

He was dressed in a white shirt and trousers, with linen bands wound round his legs; on his feet he wore sandal-like shoes kept in place by leathern thongs.

About his waist was a broad leather belt within which a flute and a dagger had been stuck, and over his back hung a coat of shaggy sheep-skin. Chin in hand the peasant sat staring with dreamy content into the flames. In a circle around him lay his dogs, their heads resting on their paws, their unkempt coats the colour of earth and autumn-leaves. Only one enormous brute was white, which kept staring at his master with watchful eyes, whilst the others slumbered and snored. It was a peaceful sight; the stars coming out one by one, and not far off the flock lay, huddled together in attitudes of repose.

Eric had moved so noiselessly that even the dogs had not heard his approach, but now as he ventured out of the hut they immediately were all upon him snarling and gnashing their teeth. The shepherd jumped to his feet and came quickly to where Eric stood with a joyful exclamation of greeting; but his guest fixed him with hollow eyes not able to utter a word.

"I know what thou needest," cried the boy, and leading Eric back into the hut he took from a chest two earthenware dishes, one of which was filled with thick creamy cheese.

"Eat," said the youth, "it will do thee good; but then I want thee to talk, for lonely forsooth are these hills; I want to hear the sound of thy voice. I live here in utmost solitude many months of the year: I guard my sheep and make this cheese. I play to the stars and sing to the sun, but they are too far above and care not to talk to me: I want to hear of thy wanderings and why thou lookest so sad. Tell me, I pray, didst thou verily come from the other side?"

Eric seized the bowl with a hasty gesture, and greedily consumed the tasty food, feeling as he ate how new strength began gradually to course through his veins. Never had he been so hungry, and this simple fare was in truth the very best dish he had ever eaten in his life!

Gratefully he looked at the young peasant, and at last he spoke: