Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli

by Marie Corelli

  The beating of my heart sounded loud and insistent in my own ears, — I lay still, trying to gain control over my trembling spirit, — and it was almost with an awful sense of relief that I saw the figure move at last from its rigid attitude and beckon me — beckon slowly and commandingly with one outstretched arm from which the black, dank draperies hung like drifting cloud. Mechanically obeying the signal, I strove to rise from my bed — and found that I could do so, — I sat up shiveringly, looking at the terrifying Form that towered above me, enclosing me as it were in its own shadow — and then, managing to stand on my feet, though unsteadily, I mutely prepared to follow where it should lead. It moved on — and I went after it, compelled by some overpowering instinct against which I dared not rebel. Once the vague, half-formed thought flitted through my brain— “This is Death that summons me away,” — till with the thought came the remembrance that according to the schooling I was receiving, there is no such thing as ‘Death,’ but only the imaginary phantom we call by that name.

  Slowly, sedately, and with an indescribable majesty of movement, the dark Figure glided on before me, and I, a trembling little creature, followed it, I knew not whither. There was no obstacle in our course, — doors, walls and windows seemed to melt asunder into nothingness as we passed — and there was no stop to our onward progress till suddenly I saw before me a steep and narrow spiral stairway of stone winding up into the very centre of a rocky pinnacle, which in its turn lifted its topmost peak into the darkness of a night sky sprinkled with millions of stars. The sombre Figure paused: and again I felt the search-light of its invisible eyes burning through me. Then, as though satisfied with its brief survey, it began to ascend the spiral stair.

  I followed step by step, — the way was long and difficult — the sharp turns dizzying to the senses, and there seemed no end to the upward winding. Sometimes I stumbled and nearly fell — sometimes I groped on hands and knees, always seeing before me the black-draped Form that moved on with such apparently little care as to whether or no I fared ill or well in my obedience to its summons.

  And now, as I climbed, all sorts of strange memories began to creep into the crannies of my brain and perplex me with trouble and uncertainty. Chiefly did my mind dwell on cruelties — the cruelties practised by human beings to one another, — moral cruelties especially, they being so much worse than any physical torture. I thought of the world’s wicked misjudgments passed on those who are greater in spirit than itself, — how, even when we endeavour to do good to others, our kindest actions are often represented as merely so many forms of self-interest and self-seeking, — how our supposed ‘best’ friends often wrong us and listen credulously to enviously invented tales against us, — how even in Love — ah!-Love! — that most etherial yet most powerful of passions! — a rough word, an unmerited slight, may separate for a lifetime those whose love would otherwise have been perfect. And still I climbed, and still I thought, and still the dark Phantom-Figure beckoned me on and on.

  And then I began to consider that in climbing to some unknown, unseen height in deep darkness I was, after all, doing a wiser thing than living in the world with the ways of the world, — ways that are for the most part purely hypocritical, and are practised merely to overreach and out-do one’s fellow-men and women — ways of fashion, ways of society, ways of government which are merely temporary, while Nature, the invincible and eternal, moves on her appointed course with the same inborn intuition, namely, to destroy that which is evil and preserve only that which is good. And Man, the sole maker of evil, the only opposer of Divine Order, fools himself into the belief that his evil shall prosper and his falsehood be accepted as truth, if he can only sham a sufficient show of religious faith to deceive himself and others on the ascending plane of History. He who has invented Sin has likewise invented a God to pardon it, for there is no sin in the natural Universe. The Divine Law cannot pardon, for it is inviolate and bears no trespass without punishment.

  So I mused in my inward self, and still I climbed, keeping my eyes fixed on the Figure that led me on, and which now, having reached the end of the spiral stair, was slowly mounting to the highest peak of the rocky pinnacle which lifted itself to the stars. An icy wind began to blow, — my feet were bare, and I was thinly clad in my night-gear with only the addition of a white woollen wrap I had hastily flung round me for warmth when I left my bed to follow my spectral leader — and I shivered through and through with the bitter cold. Yet I went on resolutely, — indeed, having started on this perilous adventure, there was no returning, for when I looked back on the way I had come, the spiral stair had completely vanished, and there was nothing but black and empty space!

  This discovery so terrified me that for the moment I lost breath, and I came to a halt in the very act of ascending. Then I saw the Figure in front of me turn round with a threatening movement, and I felt that with one second more of hesitation I should lose my footing altogether and slip away into some vast abysmal depth of unimaginable doom. Making a strong effort, I caught back my escaping self-control, and forced my shuddering limbs to obey my will and resume their work-and so, slowly, inch by inch, I resumed my climb, sick with giddiness and fear and chilled to the very heart. Presently I heard a rumbling roar like the sound of great billows rushing into hollow caverns which echoed their breaking in thuds of booming thunder. Looking up, I saw the Figure I had followed standing still; and I fancied that the sombre draperies in which it was enveloped showed an outline of glimmering light. Fired by a sudden hope, I set myself to tread the difficult path anew, and presently I too stood still, beside my mysterious Leader. Above me was a heaven of stars; — below an unfathomable deep of darkness where nothing was visible; — but from this nothingness arose a mighty turbulence as of an angry sea. I remained where I found myself, afraid to move; — one false step might, I felt, hurl me into a destruction which though it would not be actual death would certainly be something like chaos. Almost I felt inclined to catch at the cloudy garments of the solemn Figure at my side for safety and protection, and while this desire was yet upon me it turned its veiled head towards me and spoke in a low, deep tone that was infinitely gentle.

  “So far! — and yet not far enough!” it said— “To what end wilt thou adventure for the sake of Love?”

  “To no End whatsoever,” — I answered with sudden boldness— “But to everlasting Continuance!”

  Again I thought I saw a faint glowing light within its sombre draperies.

  “What wouldst thou do for Love?” its voice again enquired— “Wouldst thou bear all things and believe all things? Canst thou listen to falsehood bearing witness against truth, and yet love on? Wilt thou endure all suffering, all misunderstanding, all coldness and cruelty, and yet keep thy soul bright as a burning lamp with the flame of faith and endeavour? Wouldst thou scale the heavens and plunge to the uttermost hell for the sake of him thou lovest, knowing that thy love must make him one with thee at the God-appointed hour?”

  I looked up at the Figure, vainly striving to see its face.

  “All these things I would do!” I answered— “All that is in the power of my soul to endure mortally or immortally, I will bear for Love’s sake!”

  Again the light flashed through its black garments. When it next spoke, its voice rang out harshly in ominous warning.

  “Thy lover is dead!” it proclaimed— “He has passed from this sphere to another, and ye shall not meet again for many cycles of time! DOST THOU BELIEVE IT?”

  A cold agony gripped my breast, but I would not yield to it, and answered resolutely —

  “No! I do not believe it! He could not die without my knowing and feeling the parting of his soul from mine!”

  There was a pause, in which only the thunder of that invisible sea far down below us was audible. Then the voice went on,

  “Thy lover is false!” it said— “His love for thee was a passing mood — already he regrets — already he wearies in thought of thee and loves thee no more! DOST THOU BE
LIEVE IT?”

  I took no time for thought, but answered at once without hesitation —

  “No! For if he does not love me his Spirit lies! — and no Spirit CAN lie!”

  Another pause. Then the voice put this question —

  “Dost thou truly believe in God, thy Creator, the Maker of heaven and earth?”

  Lifting my eyes half in hope, half in appeal to the starry deep sky above me, I replied fervently —

  “I do believe in Him with all my soul!”

  A silence followed which seemed long and weighted with suspense. Then the voice spoke once more —

  “Dost thou believe in Love, the generator of Life and the moving Cause and Mind of all created things?”

  And again I replied —

  “With all my soul!”

  The Figure now bent slightly towards me, and the light within its darkness became more denned and brilliant. Presently an arm and hand, white and radiant — a shape as of living flame — was slowly outstretched from the enfolding black draperies. It pointed steadily to the abyss below me.

  “If thy love is so great” — said the voice— “If thy faith is so strong — if thy trust in God is sure and perfect — descend thither!”

  I heard — but could not credit my own hearing. I gazed at the shrouded and veiled speaker — at the commanding arm that signed my mortal body to destruction. For a moment I was lost in wild terror and wilder doubt. Was this fearful suggestion a temptation or a test? Should it be obeyed? I strove to find the centre-poise of my own self — to gather all my forces together, — to make myself sure of my own will and responsible for my own deeds, — and then — then I paused. All that was purely mortal in me shuddered on the brink of the Unknown. One look upward to the soft gloom of the purple sky and its myriad stars — one horrified glance downward at the dark depth where I heard the roaring of the sea! I clasped my hands in a kind of prayerful desperation, and looked once more at the solemn Shadow beside me.

  “If thy love is so great!” it repeated, in slow and impressive tones— “If thy faith is so strong! If thy trust in God is so sure and perfect!”

  There came a moment of tense stillness — a moment in which my life seemed detached from myself so that I held it like a palpitating separate creature in my hands, Suddenly the recollection of the last vision of all those I had seen among the dark mountains of Coruisk came back to me vividly — that of the woman who had knelt outside a barred gate in Heaven, waiting to enter in— “O leave her not always exiled and alone!” I had prayed then— “Dear God, have pity! Unbar the gate and let her in! She has waited so long!”

  A sob broke unconsciously from my lips — my eyes filled with burning tears that blinded me. Imploringly I turned towards the relentless Figure beside me once more — its hand still pointed downwards — and again I seemed to hear the words —

  “If thy love is so great! If thy faith is so strong! If thy trust in God is so sure and perfect!”

  And then I suddenly found my own Soul’s centre, — the very basis of my own actual being — and standing firmly upon that plane of imperishable force, I came to a quick resolve.

  “Nothing can destroy me!” I said within myself— “Nothing can slay the immortal part of me, and nothing can separate my soul from the soul of my beloved! In all earth, in all heaven, there is no cause for fear!”

  Hesitating no longer, I closed my eyes, — then extending my clasped hands I threw myself forward and plunged into the darkness! — down, down, interminably down! A light followed me like a meteoric shaft of luminance piercing the blackness — I retained sufficient consciousness to wonder at its brilliancy, and for a time I was borne along in my descent as though on wings. Down, still down! — and I saw ocean at my feet! — a heaving mass of angry waters flecked with a wool-like fleece of foam!

  “The Change that is called Death, but which is Life!”

  This was the only clear thought that flashed like lightning through my brain as I sank swiftly towards the engulfing desert of the sea! — then everything swirled into darkness and silence!

  * * *

  * *

  *

  A delicate warm glow like the filtering of sunbeams through shaded silk and crystal — a fragrance of roses — a delicious sound of harp-like music — to these things I was gradually awakened by a gentle pressure on my brows. I looked up — and my whole heart relieved itself in a long deep sigh of ecstasy! — it was Aselzion himself who bent over me, — Aselzion whose grave blue eyes watched me with earnest and anxious solicitude. I smiled up at him in response to his wordless questioning as to how I felt, and would have risen but that he imperatively signed to me to lie still.

  “Rest!” he said, — and his voice was very low and tender. “Rest, poor child! You have done more than well!”

  Another sigh of pure happiness escaped me, — I stretched out my arms lazily like one aroused from a long and refreshing slumber. My sensations were now perfectly exquisite; a fresh and radiant life seemed pouring itself through my veins, and I was content to remain a perfectly passive recipient of such an inflow of health and joy. The room I found myself in was new to me — it seemed made up of lovely colourings and a profusion of sweet flowers — I lay enshrined as it were in the centre of a little temple of beauty. I had no desire to move or to speak, — every trouble, every difficulty had passed from my mind, and I watched Aselzion dreamily as he brought a chair to the side of my couch and sat down — then, taking my hand in his, felt my pulse with an air of close attention.

  I smiled again.

  “Does it still beat?” I asked, finding my voice suddenly— “Surely the great sea has drowned it!”

  Still holding my hand, he looked full into my eyes.

  “‘Many waters cannot quench love’!” he quoted softly. “Dear child, you have proved that truth. Be satisfied!”

  Raising myself on my pillows, I studied his grave face with an earnest scrutiny.

  “Tell me,” — I half whispered— “Have I failed?”

  He pressed my hand encouragingly.

  “No! You have almost conquered!”

  Almost! Only ‘almost’! I sank back again on the couch, wondering and waiting. He remained beside me quite silent. After a little the tension of suspense became unbearable and I spoke again —

  “How did I escape?” I asked— “Who saved me when I fell?”

  He smiled gravely.

  “There was nothing to escape from” — he answered— “And no one saved you since you were not in danger.”

  “Not in danger!” I echoed, amazed.

  “No! Only from yourself!”

  I gazed at him, utterly bewildered. He gave me a kind and reassuring glance.

  “Have patience!” he said, gently— “All shall be explained to you in good time! Meanwhile this apartment is yours for the rest of your stay here, which will not now be long — I have had all your things removed from the Probation room in the tower, so that you will no more be troubled by its scenic transformations!” Here he smiled again. “I will leave you now to recover from the terrors through which you have passed so bravely; — rest and refresh yourself thoroughly, for you have nothing more to fear. When you are quite ready touch this” — and he pointed to a bell— “I shall hear its summons and will come to you at once.”

  Before I could say a word to detain him, he had retired, and I was left alone.

  I rose from my couch, — and the first impression I had was that of a singular ease and lightness — a sense of physical strength and well-being that was delightful beyond expression. The loveliness and peace of the room in which I was enchanted me, — everything my eyes rested upon suggested beauty. The windows were shaded with rose silk hangings — and when I drew these aside I looked out on a marble loggia or balcony overhung with climbing roses, — this, in its turn, opened on an exquisite glimpse of garden and blue sea. There was no clock anywhere to tell me the time of day, but the sun was shining, and I imagined it must be afternoon. Adjoini
ng this luxurious apartment was an equally luxurious bathroom, furnished with every conceivable elegance, — the bath itself was of marble, and the water bubbled up from its centre like a natural spring, sparkling as it came. I found all my clothes, books and other belongings arranged with care where I could most easily get at them, and to my joy the book ‘The Secret of Life,’ which I thought I had lost on my last perilous adventure, lay on a small table by itself like a treasure set apart.

  I bathed and dressed quickly, allowing myself no time to think upon any strange or perplexing point in my adventures, but giving myself entirely up to the joy of the new and ecstatic life which thrilled through me. A mirror in the room showed me my own face, happy and radiant, — my own eyes bright and smiling, — no care seemed to have left a trace on my features, and I was fully conscious of a perfect strength and health that made the mere act of breathing a pleasure. In a very short time I was ready to receive Aselzion, and I touched the bell he had indicated as a signal. Then I sat down by the window and looked out on the fair prospect before me. How glorious was the world, I thought! — how full of perfect beauty! That heavenly blue of sky and sea melting into one — the tender hues of the clambering roses against the green of the surrounding foliage — the lovely light that filtered through the air like powdered gold! — were not all these things to be thankful for? and can there be any real unhappiness so long as our Souls are in tune with the complete harmony of Creation?

  Hearing a step behind me, I rose — and with a glad smile stretched out my hands to Aselzion, who had just then entered. He took them in his own and pressed them lightly — then drawing a chair opposite to mine, he sat down. His face expressed a certain gravity, and his voice when he began to speak was low and gentle.