Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli

by Marie Corelli

  The question seemed thundered on my ears, ... shuddering, I looked from right to left, and saw a gathering crowd of faces, white, wistful, wondering, threatening and imploring, — they pressed about me close, with glistening eyes and lips that moved dumbly. And as they stared upon me I beheld another spectral thing, — the image of Myself! — a poor frail creature, pitiful, ignorant, and undiscerning, — limited in both capacity and intelligence, yet full of strange egotism and still stranger arrogance; every detail of my life was suddenly presented to me as in a magic mirror, and I read my own chronicle of paltry intellectual pride, vulgar ambition and vulgarer ostentation, — I realised with shame my miserable vices, my puny scorn of God, my effronteries and blasphemies; and in the sudden strong repulsion and repudiation of my own worthless existence, being and character, I found both voice and speech.

  “God only!” I cried fervently— “Annihilation at His hands, rather than life without Him! God only! I have chosen!”

  My words vibrated passionately on my own ears, ... and ... even as they were spoken, the air grew misty with a snowy opalescent radiance, ... the sable and crimson wings uplifted in such multitudinous array around me, palpitated with a thousand changeful hues, ... and over the face of my dark Foe a light celestial fell like the smile of dawn! Awed and afraid I gazed upward, ... and there I saw a new and yet more wondrous glory, ... a shining Figure outlined against the sky in such surpassing beauty and vivid brilliancy as made me think the sun itself had risen in vast Angel-shape on rainbow pinions! And from the brightening heaven there rang a silver voice, clear as a clarion-call, —

  “Arise, Lucifer, Son of the Morning! One soul rejects thee, — one hour of joy is granted thee! Hence and arise!”

  Earth, air, and sea blazed suddenly into fiery gold, — blinded and stunned, I was seized by compelling hands and held firmly down by a force invisible, ... the yacht was slowly sinking under me! Overwhelmed with unearthly terrors, my lips yet murmured,

  “God! God only!” The heavens changed from gold to crimson — anon to shining blue, ... and against this mass of wavering colour that seemed to make a jewelled archway of the sky, I saw the Form of him whom I had known as man, swiftly ascend god-like, with flaming pinions and upturned glorious visage, like a vision of light in darkness! Around him clustered a million winged shapes, — but He, supreme, majestic, wonderful, towered high above them all, a very king of splendour, the glory round his brows resembling meteor-fires in an Arctic midnight, — his eyes, twin stars, ablaze with such great rapture as seemed half agony! Breathless and giddy, I strained my sight to follow him as he fled; ... and heard the musical calling of strange sweet voices everywhere, from east to west, from north to south.

  “Lucifer! ... Belovëd and unforgotten! Lucifer, Son of the morning! Arise! ... arise! ...”

  With all my remaining strength I strove to watch the vanishing upward of that sublime Luminance that now filled the visible universe, — the demon-ship was still sinking steadily, ... invisible hands still held me down, ... I was falling, — falling, — into unimaginable depths, ... when another Voice, till then unheard, solemn yet sweet, spoke aloud —

  “Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into the outermost darkness of the world! There let him find My Light!”

  I heard, — yet felt no fear.

  “God only!” I said, as I sank into the vast profound, — and lo! while the words yet trembled on my lips, I saw the sun! The sweet earth’s sun! — the kindly orb familiar, — the lamp of God’s protection, — its golden rim came glittering upwards in the east, — higher and higher it rose, making a shining background for that mighty Figure, whose darkly luminous wings now seemed like sable storm-clouds stretched wide across the horizon! Once more ... yet once, ... the Angel-visage bent its warning looks on me, ... I saw the anguished smile, ... the great eyes burning with immortal sorrows! ... then, I was plunged forcibly downwards and thrust into an abysmal grave of frozen cold.

  XLII

  The blue sea — the blue sky! — and God’s sunshine over all! To this I woke, after a long period of unconsciousness, and found myself afloat on a wide ocean, fast bound to a wooden spar. So strongly knotted were my bonds that I could not stir either hand or foot, ... and after one or two ineffectual struggles to move I gave up the attempt, and lay submissively resigned to my fate, face upturned and gazing at the infinite azure depths above me, while the heaving breath of the sea rocked me gently to and fro like an infant in its mother’s arms. Alone with God and Nature, I, a poor human wreck, drifted, —— lost, yet found! Lost on this vast sea which soon should serve my body as a sepulchre, ... but found, inasmuch as I was fully conscious of the existence and awakening of the Immortal Soul within me, — that divine, actual and imperishable essence, which now I recognised as being all that is valuable in a man in the sight of his Creator. I was to die, soon and surely; — this I thought, as the billows swayed me in their huge cradle, running in foamy ripples across my bound body, and dashing cool spray upon my brows, — what could I do now, doomed and helpless as I was, to retrieve my wasted past? Nothing! save repent, — and could repentance at so late an hour fit the laws of eternal justice? Humbly and sorrowfully I considered, ... to me had been given a terrific and unprecedented experience of the awful Reality of the Spirit-world around us, — and now I was cast out on the sea as a thing worthless, I felt that the brief time remaining to me of life in this present sphere was indeed my “last probation,” as that Supernatural Wonder, the declared Enemy of mankind, whom still in my thoughts I called Lucio, had declared.

  “If I dared, — after a life’s denial and blasphemy, — turn to Christ!” I said— “Would He, — the Divine Brother and Friend of man, — reject me?”

  I whispered the question to the sky and sea, ... solemn silence seemed to invest the atmosphere, and marvellous calm. No other answer came than this, ... a deep and charmëd peace, that insensibly stole over my fretting conscience, my remorseful soul, my aching heart, my tired mind. I remembered certain words heard long ago, and lightly forgotten. “Him who cometh unto Me will I in no wise cast out.” Looking up to the clear heavens and radiant sun, I smiled; and with a complete abandonment of myself and my fears to the Divine Will, I murmured the words that in my stress of mystic agony had so far saved me, —

  “God only! Whatsoever He shall choose for me in life, in death, and after death, is best.”

  And closing my eyes, I resigned my life to the mercy of the soft waves, and with the sunbeams warm upon my face, I slept.

  · ·* * * ·

  I woke again with an icy shudder and cry, — rough cheery voices sounded in my ears, — strong hands were at work busily unfastening the cords with which I was bound, ... I was on the deck of a large steamer, surrounded by a group of men, — and all the glory of the sunset fired the seas. Questions were poured upon me, ... I could not answer them, for my tongue was parched and blistered, ... lifted upright upon my feet by sturdy arms, I could not stand for sheer exhaustion. Dimly, and in feeble dread I stared around me, —— was this great vessel with smoking funnels and grinding engines another devil’s craft set sailing round the world! Too weak to find a voice I made dumb signs of terrified inquiry, ... a broad-shouldered bluff-looking man came forward, whose keen eyes rested on me with kindly compassion.

  “This is an English vessel,” he said— “We are bound for Southampton. Our helmsman saw you floating ahead, — we stopped and sent a boat for rescue. Where were you wrecked? Any more of the crew afloat?”

  I gazed at him, but could not speak. The strangest thoughts crowded into my brain, moving me to wild tears and laughter. England! The word struck clashing music on my mind, and set all my pulses trembling. England! The little spot upon the little world, most loved and honoured of all men, save those who envy its worth! I made some gesture, whether of joy or mad amazement I know not, —— had I been able to speak I could have related nothing that those men around me could have comprehended or believed, ... then I sank back again in
a dead swoon.

  They were very good to me, all those English sailors. The captain gave me his own cabin, — the ship’s doctor attended me with a zeal that was only exceeded by his curiosity to know where I came from, and the nature of the disaster that had befallen me. But I remained dumb, and lay inert and feeble in my berth, grateful for the care bestowed upon me, as well as for the temporary exhaustion that deprived me of speech. For I had enough to do with my own thoughts, — thoughts far too solemn and weighty for utterance. I was saved, — I was given another chance of life in the world, — and I knew why! My one absorbing anxiety now was to retrieve my wasted time, and to do active good where hitherto I had done nothing!

  The day came at last, when I was sufficiently recovered to be able to sit on deck and watch with eager eyes the approaching coast-line of England. I seemed to have lived a century since I left it, — aye, almost an eternity, — for time is what the Soul makes it, and no more. I was an object of interest and attention among all the passengers on board, for as yet I had not broken silence. The weather was calm and bright, ... the sun shone gloriously, — and far off the pearly rim of Shakespeare’s ‘happy isle’ glistened jewel-like upon the edge of the sea. The captain came and looked at me, — nodded encouragingly, — and after a moment’s hesitation, said —

  “Glad to see you out on deck! Almost yourself again, eh?”

  I silently assented with a faint smile.

  “Perhaps” — he continued, “as we’re so near home, you’ll let me know your name? It’s not often we pick up a man alive and drifting in mid-Atlantic.”

  In mid-Atlantic! What force had flung me there I dared not think, ... nor whether it was hellish or divine.

  “My name?” I murmured, surprised into speech, — how odd it was I had never thought of myself lately as having a name or any other thing belonging to me!— “Why certainly! Geoffrey Tempest is my name.”

  The captain’s eyes opened widely.

  “Geoffrey Tempest! Dear me! ... The Mr Tempest? —— the great millionaire that was?”

  It was now my turn to stare.

  “That was?” I repeated— “What do you mean?”

  “Have you not heard?” he asked excitedly.

  “Heard? I have heard nothing since I left England some months ago — with a friend, on board his yacht ... we went on a long voyage and ... a strange one! We were wrecked, ... you know the rest, and how I owe my life to your rescue. But of news I am ignorant ...”

  “Good heavens!” he interrupted quickly— “Bad news travels fast as a rule they say, — but you have missed it ... and I confess I don’t like to be the bearer of it ...”

  He broke off, and his genial face looked troubled. I smiled, — yet wondered.

  “Pray speak out!” I said— “I don’t think you can tell me anything that will deeply affect me, — now. I know the best and worst of most things in the world, I assure you!”

  He eyed me dubiously; — then, going into his smoking-cabin, he brought me out an American newspaper seven days old. He handed it to me pointing to its leading columns without a word. There I saw in large type— “A Millionaire Ruined! Enormous Frauds! Monster Forgeries! Gigantic Swindle! On the track of Bentham and Ellis!”

  My brain swam for a minute, — then I read on steadily, and soon grasped the situation. The respectable pair of lawyers whom I had implicitly relied on for the management of all my business affairs in my absence, had succumbed to the temptation of having so much cash in charge for investment, — and had become a pair of practised swindlers. Dealing with the same bank as myself, they had forged my name so cleverly that the genuineness of the signature had never been even suspected, — and, after drawing enormous sums in this way, and investing in various ‘bubble’ companies with which they personally were concerned, they had finally absconded, leaving me almost as poor as I was when I first heard of my inherited fortune. I put aside the paper, and looked up at the good captain, who stood watching me with sympathetic anxiety.

  “Thank you!” I said— “These thieves were my trusted lawyers, — and I can cheerfully say that I am much more sorry for them than I am for myself. A thief is always a thief, — a poor man, if he be honest, is at any rate the thief’s superior. The money they have stolen will bring them misery rather than pleasure, — of that I am convinced. If this account be correct, they have already lost large sums in bogus companies, — and the man Bentham, whom I thought the very acme of shrewd caution has sunk an enormous amount of capital in a worn-out gold mine. Their forgeries must have been admirably done! — a sad waste of time and cleverness. It appears too that the investments I have myself made are worthless; — well, well! — it does not matter, — I must begin the world again, that’s all!” He looked amazed.

  “I don’t think you quite realize your own misfortune, Mr Tempest” — he said— “You take it too quietly by half. You’ll think worse of it presently.”

  “I hope not!” I responded, with a smile— “It never does to think the worst of anything. I assure you I realize perfectly. I am in the world’s sight a ruined man, — I quite understand!”

  He shrugged his shoulders with quite a desperate air, and left me. I am convinced he thought me mad, — but I knew I had never been so sane. I did indeed entirely comprehend my ‘misfortune,’ or rather the great chance bestowed on me of winning something far higher than all the coffers of Mammon; I read in my loss of world’s cash the working of such a merciful providence and pity as gave me a grander hope than any I had ever known. Clear before me rose the vision of that most divine and beautiful necessity of happiness, — Work! — the grand and too often misprized Angel of Labour, which moulds the mind of man, steadies his hands, controls his brain, purifies his passions, and strengthens his whole mental and physical being. A rush of energy and health filled my veins, — and I thanked God devoutly for the golden opportunities held out afresh for me to accept and use. Gratitude there should be in every human soul for every gift of heaven, — but nothing merits more thankfulness and praise to the Creator than the call to work, and the ability to respond to it.

  England at last! I bade farewell to the good ship that had rescued me, and to all on board her, most of whom now knew my name and looked upon me with pity as well as curiosity. The story of my being wrecked on a friend’s yacht was readily accepted, — and the subject of that adventure was avoided, as the general impression was that my friend, whoever he was, had been drowned with his crew, and that I was the one survivor. I did not offer any further explanation, and was content to so let the matter rest, though I was careful to send both the captain and the ship’s doctor a handsome recompense for their united attention and kindness. I have reason to believe, from the letters they wrote me, that they were more than satisfied with the sums received, and that I really did some actual good with those few last fragments of my vanished wealth.

  On reaching London, I interviewed the police concerning the thieves and forgers, Bentham and Ellis, and stopped all proceedings against them.

  “Call me mad if you like,” — I said to the utterly confounded chief of the detective force— “I do not mind! But let these rascals keep the trash they have stolen. It will be a curse to them, as it has been to me! It is devil’s money! Half of it was already gone, being settled on my late wife, — at her death, it reverted by the same deed of settlement, to any living members of her family, and it now belongs to Lord Elton. I have lived to make a noble Earl rich, who was once bankrupt, — and I doubt if he would lend me a ten-pound-note for the asking! However, I shall not ask him. The rest has gone into the universal waste of corruption and sham — let it stay there! I shall never bother myself to get it back. I prefer to be a free man.”

  “But the bank, — the principle of the thing!” exclaimed the detective with indignation.

  I smiled.

  “Exactly! The principle of the thing has been perfectly carried out. A man who has too much money creates forgers and thieves about him, — he cannot expect to
meet with honesty. Let the bank prosecute if it likes, — I shall not. I am free! — free to work for my living. What I earn I shall enjoy, — what I inherited, I have learnt to loathe!”

  With that I left him, puzzled and irate, — and in a day or two the papers were full of strange stories concerning me, and numerous lies as well. I was called ‘mad,’ ‘unprincipled,’ ‘thwarting the ends of justice,’ — and sundry other names, while scurrilous civilities known only to the penny paragraphist were heaped upon me by the score. To complete my entire satisfaction, a man on the staff of one of the leading journals, dug out my book from Mudie’s underground cellar, and ‘slashed’ it with a bitterness and venom only excelled by my own violence when anonymously libelling the work of Mavis Clare! And the result was remarkable, — for in a sudden wind of caprice, the public made a rush for my neglected literary offspring, — they took it up, handled it tenderly, read it lingeringly, found something in it that pleased them, and finally bought it by thousands! ... whereat the astute Morgeson, as virtuous publisher, wrote to me in wonder and congratulation, enclosing a cheque for a hundred pounds on ‘royalties,’ and promising more in due course, should the ‘run’ continue. Ah, the sweetness of that earned hundred pounds! I felt a King of independence! — realms of ambition and attainment opened out before me, — life smiled upon me as it had never smiled before. Talk of poverty! I was rich! —— rich with a hundred pounds made out of my own brain-labour, — and I envied no millionaire that ever flaunted his gold beneath the sun! I thought of Mavis Clare, ... but dared not dwell too long upon her gentle image. In time perhaps, ... when I had settled down to fresh work, ... when I had formed my life as I meant to form it, in the habits of faith, firmness and unselfishness, I would write to her and tell her all, — all, even to that dread insight into worlds unseen, beyond the boundaries of an unknown region of everlasting frozen snow! But now, —— now I resolved to stand alone, — fighting my battle as a man should fight, seeking for neither help nor sympathy, and trusting not in Self, but God only. Moreover I could not induce myself yet to look again upon Willowsmere. The place was terror-haunted for me; and though Lord Elton with a curious condescension, (seeing that it was to me he owed the free gift of his former property) invited me to stay there, and professed a certain lame regret for the ‘heavy financial losses’ I had sustained, I saw in the tone of his epistle that he looked upon me somewhat in the light of a madman after my refusal to take up the matter of my absconding solicitors, and that he would rather I stayed away. And I did stay away; — and even when his marriage with Diana Chesney took place with great pomp and splendour, I refused his invitation to be present. In the published list of guests, however which appeared in the principal papers, I was scarcely surprised to read the name of ‘Prince Lucio Rimânez.’