XXXV
It is difficult to describe the strange emotions with which thedeparture of Amroth filled me. I think that, when I first entered theheavenly country, the strongest feeling I experienced was the sense ofsecurity--the thought that the earthly life was over and done with, andthat there remained the rest and tranquillity of heaven. What I cannoteven now understand is this. I am dimly aware that I have lived a greatseries of lives, in each of which I have had to exist blindly, notknowing that my life was not bounded and terminated by death, and onlydarkly guessing and hoping, in passionate glimpses, that there might bea permanent life of the soul behind the life of the body. And yet, atfirst, on entering the heavenly country, I did not remember havingentered it before; it was not familiar to me, nor did I at first recallin memory that I had been there before. The earthly life seems toobliterate for a time even the heavenly memory. But the departure ofAmroth swept away once and for all the sense of security. One felt ofthe earthly life, indeed, as a busy man may think of a troublesome visithe has to pay, which breaks across the normal current of his life, whilehe anticipates with pleasure his return to the usual activities of homeacross the interval of social distraction, which he does not exactlydesire, but yet is glad that it should intervene, if only for theheightened sense of delight with which he will resume his real life. Ihad been happy in heaven, though with periods of discontent and momentsof dismay. But I no longer desired a dreamful ease; I only wishedpassionately to be employed. And now I saw that I must resign allexpectation of that. As so often happens, both on earth and in heaven, Ihad found something of which I was not in search, while the work which Ihad estimated so highly, and prepared myself so ardently for, had neverbeen given to me to do at all.
But for the moment I had but one single thought. I was to see Cynthiaagain, and I might then expect my own summons to return to life. Whatsurprised me, on looking back at my present sojourn, was the extremeapparent fortuitousness of it. It had not been seemingly organised orlaid out on any plan; and yet it had shown me this, that my ownintentions and desires counted for nothing. I had meant to work, and Ihad been mostly idle; I had intended to study psychology, and I hadfound love. How much wiser and deeper it had all been than anythingwhich I had designed!
Even now I was uncertain how to find Cynthia. But recollecting thatAmroth had warned me that I had gained new powers which I mightexercise, I set myself to use them. I concentrated myself upon thethought of Cynthia; and in a moment, just as the hand of a man in adark room, feeling for some familiar object, encounters and closes uponthe thing he is seeking, I seemed to touch and embrace the thought ofCynthia. I directed myself thither. The breeze fanned my hair, and as Iopened my eyes I saw that I was in an unfamiliar place--not the forestwhere I had left Cynthia, but in a terraced garden, under a great hill,wooded to the peak. Stone steps ran up through the terraces, the topmostof which was crowned by a long irregular building, very quaintlydesigned. I went up the steps, and, looking about me, caught sight oftwo figures seated on a wooden seat at a little distance from me,overlooking the valley. One of these was Cynthia. The other was a youngand beautiful woman; the two were talking earnestly together. SuddenlyCynthia turned and saw me, and rising quickly, came to me and caught mein her arms.
"I was sure you were somewhere near me, dearest," she said; "I dreamedof you last night, and you have been in my thoughts all day."
My darling was in some way altered. She looked older, wiser, and calmer,but she was in my eyes even more beautiful. The other girl, who hadlooked at us in surprise for a moment, rose too and came shyly forwards.Cynthia caught her hand, and presented her to me, adding, "And now youmust leave us alone for a little, if you will forgive me for asking it,for we have much to ask and to say."
The girl smiled and went off, looking back at us, I thought,half-enviously.
We went and sat down on the seat, and Cynthia said:
"Something has happened to you, dear one, I see, since I saw youlast--something great and glorious."
"Yes," I said, "you are right; I have seen the beginning and the end;and I have not yet learned to understand it. But I am the same, Cynthia,and yours utterly. We will speak of this later. Tell me first what hashappened to you, and what this place is. I will not waste time intalking; I want to hear you talk and to see you talk. How often have Ilonged for that!"
Cynthia took my hand in both of her own, and then unfolded to me herstory. She had lived long in the forest, alone with the child, and thenthe day had come when the desire to go farther had arisen in his mind,and he had left her, and she had felt strangely desolate, till she toohad been summoned.
"And this place--how can I describe it?" she said. "It is a home forspirits who have desired love on earth, and who yet, from some accidentof circumstance, have never found one to love them with any intimacy ofpassion. How strange it is to think," she went on, "that I, just by theinheritance of beauty, was surrounded with love and the wrong sort oflove, so that I never learned to love rightly and truly; while so many,just from some lack of beauty, some homeliness or ungainliness offeature or carriage, missed the one kind of love that would havesustained and fed them--have never been held in a lover's arms, or helda child of their own against their heart. And so," she went on smiling,"many of them lavished their tenderness upon animals or crafty servantsor selfish relations; and grew old and fanciful and petulant beforetheir time. It seems a sad waste of life that! Because so many of themare spirits that could have loved finely and devotedly all the time. Buthere," she said, "they unlearn their caprices, and live a life bystrict rule--and they go out hence to have the care of children, or totend broken lives into tranquillity--and some of them, nay most of them,find heavenly lovers of their own. They are odd, fractious people atfirst, curiously concerned about health and occupation and one can oftendo nothing but listen to their complaints. But they find their way outin time, and one can help them a little, as soon as they begin todesire to hear something of other lives but their own. They have tolearn to turn love outwards instead of inwards; just as I," she addedlaughing, "had to turn my own love inwards instead of outwards."
Then I told Cynthia what I could tell of my own experiences, and sheheard them with astonishment. Then I said:
"What surprises me about it, is that I seem somehow to have been givenmore than I can hold. I have a very shallow and trivial nature, like astream that sparkles pleasantly enough over a pebbly bottom, but inwhich no boat or man can swim. I have always been absorbed in theobservation of details and in the outside of things. I spent so muchenergy in watching the faces and gestures and utterances and tricks ofthose about me that I never had the leisure to look into their hearts.And now these great depths have opened before me, and I feel morechildish and feeble than ever, like a frail glass which holds a mostprecious liquor, and gains brightness and glory from the hues of thewine it holds, but is not like the gem, compact of colour and radiance."
Cynthia laughed at me.
"At all events, you have not forgotten how to make metaphors," she said.
"No," said I, "that is part of the mischief, that I see the likenessesof things and not their essences." At which she laughed again moresoftly, and rested her cheek on my shoulder.
Then I told her of the departure of Amroth.
"That is wonderful," she said.
And then I told her of my own approaching departure, at which she grewsad for a moment. Then she said, "But come, let us not waste time inforebodings. Will you come with me into the house to see the likenessesof things, or shall we have an hour alone together, and try to look intoessences?"
I caught her by the hand.
"No," I said, "I care no more about the machinery of theseinstitutions. I am the pilgrim of love, and not the student oforganisations. If you may quit your task, and leave your ladies toregretful memories of their lap-dogs, let us go out together for alittle, and say what we can--for I am sure that my time is approaching."
Cynthia smiled and left me, and returned running; and then we
rambledoff together, up the steep paths of the woodland, to the mountain-top,from which we had a wide prospect of the heavenly country, a great bluewell-watered plain lying out for leagues before us, with the shapes ofmysterious mountains in the distance. But I can give no account of allwe said or did, for heart mingled with heart, and there was little needof speech. And even so, in those last sweet hours, I could not helpmarvelling at how utterly different Cynthia's heart and mind were frommy own; even then it was a constant shock of surprise that we shouldunderstand each other so perfectly, and yet feel so differently aboutso much. It seemed to me that, even after all I had seen and suffered,my heart was still bent on taking and Cynthia's on giving. I seemed tosee my own heart through Cynthia's, while she appeared to see mine butthrough her own. We spoke of our experiences, and of our many friends,now hidden from us--and at last we spoke of Lucius. And then Cynthiasaid:
"It is strange, dearest, that now and then there should yet remain anydoubt at all in my mind about your wish or desire; but I must speak; andbefore I speak, I will say that whatever you desire, I will do. But Ithink that Lucius has need of me, and I am his, in a way which I cannotdescribe. He is halting now in his way, and he is unhappy because hislife is incomplete. May I help him?"
At this there struck through me a sharp and jealous pang; and a darkcloud seemed to float across my mind for a moment. But I set all aside,and thought for an instant of the vision of God. And then I said:
"Yes, Cynthia! I had wondered too; and it seems perhaps like the lasttaint of earth, that I would, as it were, condemn you to a sort ofwidowhood of love when I am gone. But you must follow your own heart,and its pure and sweet advice, and the Will of Love; and you must useyour treasure, not hoard it for me in solitude. Dearest, I trust you andworship you utterly and entirely. It is through you and your love that Ihave found my way to the heart of God; and if indeed you can takeanother heart thither, you must do it for love's own sake." And afterthis we were silent for a long space, heart blending wholly with heart.
Then suddenly I became aware that some one was coming up through thewood, to the rocks where we sat: and Cynthia clung close to me, and Iknew that she was sorrowful to death. And then I saw Lucius come up outof the wood, and halt for a moment at the sight of us together. Then hecame on almost reverently, and I saw that he carried in his hand asealed paper like that which had been given to Amroth; and I read it andfound my summons written.
Then while Lucius stood beside me, with his eyes upon the ground, Isaid:
"I must go in haste; and I have but one thing to do. We have spoken,Cynthia and I, of the love you have long borne her; and she is yoursnow, to comfort and lead you as she has led and comforted me. This isthe last sacrifice of love, to give up love itself; and this I do verywillingly for the sake of Him that loves us: and here," I said, "is astrange thing, that at the very crown and summit of life, for I am surethat this is so, we should be three hearts, so full of love, and yet sosorrowing and suffering as we are. Is pain indeed the end of all?"
"No," said Cynthia, "it is not the end, and yet only by it can wemeasure the depth and height of love. If we look into our hearts, weknow that in spite of all we are more than rewarded, and more thanconquerors."
Then I took Cynthia's hand and laid it in the hand of Lucius; and I leftthem there upon the peak, and turned no more. And no more woeful spiritwas in the land of heaven that day than mine as I stumbled wearily downthe slope, and found the valley. And then, for I did not know the way todescend, I commended myself to God; and He took me.
XXXVI
I saw that I was standing in a narrow muddy road, with deep ruts, whichled up from the bank of a wide river--a tidal river, as I could see,from the great mudflats fringed with seaweed. The sun blazed down uponthe whole scene. Just below was a sort of landing-place, where lay anumber of long, low boats, shaded with mats curved like the hood of awaggon; a little farther out was a big quaint ship, with a high sternand yellow sails. Beyond the river rose great hills, thickly clothedwith vegetation. In front of me, along the roadside, stood a number ofmud-walled huts, thatched with some sort of reeds; beyond these, on theleft, was the entrance of a larger house, surrounded with high walls,the tops of trees, with a strange red foliage, appearing over theenclosure, and the tiled roofs of buildings. Farther still were thewalls of a great town, huge earthworks crowned with plasteredfortifications, and a gate, with a curious roof to it, running out ateach end into horns carved of wood. At some distance, out of a grove tothe right, rose a round tapering tower of mouldering brickwork. The restof the nearer country seemed laid out in low plantations of somegreen-leaved shrub, with rice-fields interspersed in the more levelground.
There were only a few people in sight. Some men with arms and legsbare, and big hats made of reeds, were carrying up goods from thelanding-place, and a number of children, pale and small-eyed, dirty andhalf-naked, were playing about by the roadside. I went a few paces upthe road, and stopped beside a house, a little larger than the rest,with a rough verandah by the door. Here a middle-aged man was seated,plaiting something out of reeds, but evidently listening for soundswithin the house, with an air half-tranquil, half-anxious; by him on aslab stood something that looked like a drum, and a spray of azaleaflowers. While I watched, a man of a rather superior rank, with a darkflowered jacket and a curious hat, looked out of a door which opened onthe verandah and beckoned him in; a sound of low subdued wailing cameout from the house, and I knew that my time was hard at hand. It wasstrange and terrible to me at the moment to realise that my life was tobe bound up, I knew not for how long, with this remote place; but I wasconscious too of a deep excitement, as of a man about to start upon arace on which much depends. There came a groan from the interior of thehouse, and through the half-open door I could see two or three dimfigures standing round a bed in a dark and ill-furnished room. One ofthe figures bent down, and I could see the face of a woman, very pale,the eyes closed, and the lips open, her arms drawn up over her head asin an agony of pain. Then a sudden dimness came over me, and a deadlyfaintness. I stumbled through the verandah to the open door. Thedarkness closed in upon me, and I knew no more.
THE END
The Child of the Dawn Page 37