CHAPTER XXV
A brilliant morning broke over the flower-filled gardens of the Palazzod'Oro, and the sea, stretched out in a wide radiance of purest blueshimmered with millions of tiny silver ripples brushed on its surfaceby a light wind as delicate as a bird's wing. Morgana stood in herrose-marble loggia, looking with a pathetic wistfulness at the beautyof the scene, and beside her stood Marco Ardini, scientist, surgeon andphysician, looking also, but scarcely seeing, his whole thought beingconcentrated on the "case" with which he had been dealing.
"It is exactly as I at first told you,"--he said--"The man is strong inmuscle and sinew,--but his brain is ruined. It can no longer control orcommand the body's mechanism,--therefore the body is practicallyuseless. Power of volition is gone,--the poor fellow will never be ableto walk again or to lift a hand. A certain faculty of speech isleft,--but even this is limited to a few words which are evidently theresult of the last prevailing thoughts impressed on the brain-cells. Itis possible he will repeat those words thousands of times!--the oftenerhe repeats them the more he will like to say them."
"What are they?" Morgana asked in a tone of sorrow and compassion.
"Strange enough for a man in his condition"--replied Ardini--"Andalways the same. 'THERE SHALL BE NO MORE WARS! THERE CAN BE NONE! I SAYIT!--_I_ ONLY! IT IS MY GREAT SECRET! _I_ AM MASTER OF THE WORLD!' Poordevil! What a 'master of the world' is there!"
Morgana shuddered as with cold, shading her eyes from the radiantsunshine.
"Does he say nothing else?" she murmured--"Is there no name--noplace--that he seems to remember?"
"He remembers nothing--he knows nothing"--answered Ardini--"He does noteven realize me as a man--I might be a fish or a serpent for all hiscomprehension. One glance at his moveless eyes is enough to prove that.They are like pebbles in his head--without cognisance or expression. Hemutters the words 'Great Secret' over and over again, and tacks it onto the other phrase of 'No more wars' in a semi-conscious sort ofgabble,--this is, of course, the disordered action of the brain workingto catch up and join together hopelessly severed fragments."
Morgana lifted her sea-blue eyes and looked with grave appeal into theseverely intellectual, half-frowning face of the great Professor.
"Is there no hope of an ultimate recovery?" she asked--"With time andrest and the best of unceasing care, might not this poor brain rightitself?"
"Medically and scientifically speaking, there is no hope,--nonewhatever"--he replied--"Though of course we all know that Nature'sremedial methods are inexhaustible, and often, to the wisest of us,seem miraculous, because as yet we do not understand one tithe of herprocesses. But--in this case,--this strange and terrible case"--and heuttered the words with marked gravity,--"It is Nature's own force thathas wrought the damage,--some powerful influence which the man has beentesting has proved too much for him--and it has taken its ownvengeance."
Morgana heard this with strained interest and attention.
"Tell me just what you mean,"--she said--"There is something you do notquite express--or else I am too slow to understand--"
Ardini took a few paces up and down the loggia and then halted, facingher in the attitude of a teacher preparing to instruct a pupil.
"Signora,"--he said--"When you began to correspond with me some yearsago from America, I realised that I was in touch with a highlyintelligent and cultivated mind. I took you to be many years older thanyou are, with a ripe scientific experience. I find you young,beautiful, and pathetic in the pure womanliness of your nature, whichmust be perpetually contending with an indomitable power ofintellectuality and of spirituality,--spirituality is the strongestforce of your being. You are not made like other women. This being so Ican say to you what other women would not understand. Science is mylife-subject, as it is yours,--it is a window set open in the universeadmitting great light. But many of us foolishly imagine that this lightemanates from ourselves as a result of our own cleverness, whereas itcomes from that Divine Source of all things, which we call God. Werefuse to believe this,--it wounds our pride. And we use thediscoveries of science recklessly and selfishly--without gratitude,humbleness or reverence. So it happens that the first tendency ofgodless men is to destroy. The love of destruction and torture showsitself in the boy who tears off the wing of an insect, or kills a birdfor the pleasure of killing. The boy is father of the man. And we come,after much ignorant denial and obstinacy, back to the inexorable truththat 'they who take the sword shall perish with the sword.' If weconsider the 'sword' as a metaphor for every instrument of destruction,we shall see the force of its application--the submarine, for example,built for the most treacherous kind of sea-warfare--how often they thatundertake its work are slain themselves! And so it is through the wholegamut of scientific discovery when it is used for inhuman and unlawfulpurposes. But when this same 'sword' is lifted to put an end totorture, disease, and the manifold miseries of life, then the Powerthat has entrusted it to mankind endows it with blessing and there areno evil results. I say this to you by way of explaining the view I amforced to take of this man whose strange case you ask me to dealwith,--my opinion is that through chance or intention he has beenplaying recklessly with a great natural force, which he has notentirely understood, for some destructive purpose, and that it hasrecoiled on himself."
Morgana looked him steadily in the eyes.
"You may be right,"--she said--"He is--or was--one of the mostbrilliant of our younger scientists. You know his name--I have sent youfrom New York some accounts of his work--He is Roger Seaton, whoseexperiments in the condensation of radioactivity startled America somefour or five years ago--"
"Roger Seaton!" he exclaimed--"What! The man who professed to havefound a new power which would change the face of the world? ...He,--this wreck?--this blind, deaf lump of breathing clay? Surely hehas not fallen on so horrible a destiny!"
Tears rushed to Morgana's eyes,--she could not answer. She could onlybend her head in assent.
Profoundly moved, Ardini took her hand, and kissed it with sympatheticreverence.
"Signora," he said--"This is indeed a tragedy! You have saved this lifeat I know not what risk to yourself--and as I am aware what a life ofgreat attainment it promised to be, you may be sure I will spare nopains to bring it back to normal conditions. But frankly I do not thinkit will be possible. There is the woman who loves him--her influencemay do something--"
"If he ever loved her--yes"--and Morgana smiled rather sadly--"But ifhe did not--if the love is all on her side--"
Ardini shrugged his shoulders.
"A great love is always on the woman's side,"--he said--"Men are tooselfish to love perfectly. In this case, of course, there is noemotion, no sentiment of any sort left in the mere hulk of man. Butstill I will continue my work and do my best."
He left her then,--and she stood for a while alone, gazing far out tothe blue sea and sunlight, scarcely seeing them for thehalf-unconscious tears that blinded her eyes. Suddenly a Ray, not ofthe sun, shot athwart the loggia and touched her with a deep goldradiance. She saw it and looked up, listening.
"Morgana!"
The Voice quivered along the Ray like the touched string of an aeolianharp. She answered it in almost a whisper--
"I hear!"
"You grieve for sorrows not your own," said the Voice--"And we love youfor it. But you must not waste your tears on the errors of others. Eachindividual Spirit makes its own destiny, and no other but Itself canhelp Itself. You are one of the Chosen and Beloved!--You must fulfilthe happiness you have created for your own soul! Come to us soon!" Athrill of exquisite joy ran through her.
"I will!" she said--"When my duties here are done."
The golden Ray decreased in length and brilliancy, and finally diedaway in a fine haze mingling with the air. She watched it till itvanished,--then with a sense of relief from her former sadness, shewent into the house to see Manella. The girl had risen from her bed,and with the assistance of Lady Kingswood, who tended her with motherlycare, had been arrayed in a loo
se white woollen gown, which, carelesslygathered round her, intensified by contrast the striking beauty of herdark eyes and hair, and ivory pale skin. As Morgana entered the roomshe smiled, her small even teeth gleaming like tiny pearls in the faintrose of her pretty mouth, and stretched out her hand.
"What has he said to you?" she asked--"Tell me! Is he not glad to seeyou?--to know he is with you?--safe with you in your home?"
Morgana sat down beside her.
"Dear Manella"--she answered, gently and with tenderest pity--"He doesnot know me. He knows nothing! He speaks a few words,--but he has noconsciousness of what he is saying."
Manella looked at her wonderingly--
"Ah, that is because he is not himself yet"--she said--"The crash ofthe rocks--the pouring of the flood--this was enough to kill him--buthe will recover in a little while and he will know you!--yes, he willknow you, and he will thank God for life to see you!"
Her unselfish joy in the idea that the man she loved would soonrecognise the woman he preferred to herself, was profoundly touching,and Morgana kissed the hand she held.
"Dear, I am afraid he will never know anything more in this world"--shesaid, sorrowfully--"Neither man nor woman! Nor can he thank God for alife which will be long, living death! Unless YOU can help him!"
"I?" and Manella's eyes dilated with brilliant eagerness; "I will givemy life for his! What can I do?"
And then, with patient slowness and gentleness, little by little,Morgana told her all. Lady Kingswood, sitting in an arm-chair near thewindow, worked at her embroidery, furtive tears dropping now and againon the delicate pattern, as she heard the details of the tragic verdictgiven by one of Europe's greatest medical scientists on thehopelessness of ever repairing the damage wrought by the shock whichhad shaken a powerful brain into ruins. But it was wonderful to watchManella's face as she listened. Sorrow, pity, tenderness, love, all inturn flashed their heavenly radiance in her eyes and intensified herbeauty, and when she had heard all, she smiled as some lovely angelmight smile on a repentant soul. Her whole frame seemed to vibrate witha passion of unselfish emotion.
"He will be my care!" she said--"The good God has heard my prayers andgiven him to me to be all mine!" She clasped her hands in a kind ofecstasy, "My life is for him and him alone! He will be my littlechild!--this big, strong, poor broken man!--and I will nurse him backto himself,--I will watch for every little sign of hope!--he shalllearn to see through my eyes--to hear through my ears--to remember allthat he has forgotten!..." Her voice broke in a half sob. Morgana putan arm about her.
"Manella, Manella!" she said--"You do not know what you say--you cannotunderstand the responsibility--it would make you a prisoner for life--"
"Oh, I understand!" and Manella shook back her dark hair with thelittle proud, decisive gesture characteristic of hertemperament--"Yes!--and I wish to be so imprisoned! If we had not beenrescued by you, we should have died together!--now you will help us tolive together! Will you not? You are a little white angel--afairy!--yes!--to me you are!--your heart is full of unspent love! Youwill let me stay with him always--always?--As his nurse?--hisservant?--his slave?"
Morgana looked at her tenderly, touched to the quick by her eagernessand her beauty, now intensified by the glow of excitement which gave aroseate warmth to her cheeks and deeper darkness to her eyes. Allignorant and unsuspecting as she was of the world's malignity and cruelmisjudgments, how could it be explained to her that a woman of suchyouth and loveliness, electing to dwell alone with a man, even if theman were a hopeless paralytic, would make herself the subject ofmalicious comment and pitiless scandal! Some reflection of this feelingshowed itself in the expression of Morgana's face while she hesitatedto answer, holding the girl's hand in her own and stroking itaffectionately the while. Manella, gazing at her as a worshipper mightgaze at a sacred picture, instinctively divined her thought.
"Ah? I know what you would say!" she exclaimed, "That I might bringshame to him by my companionship--always--yes!--that ispossible!--wicked people would talk of him and judge him wrongly--"
"Oh, Manella, dear!" murmured Morgana--"Not him--not him--but YOU!"
"Me?" She tossed back her wealth of hair, and smiled--"What am I? Justa bit of dust in his path! I am nothing at all! I do not care whatanybody says or thinks of ME!--what should it matter! But see!--to saveHIM--let me be his wife!"
"His wife!" Morgana repeated the words in amazement, and LadyKingswood, laying down her work, gazed at the two beautiful women, theone so spiritlike and fair, the other so human and queenly, in a kindof stupefaction, wondering if she had heard aright.
"His wife! Yes!"... Manella spoke with a thrill of exultation in hervoice,--and she caught Morgana's hand and kissed it fondly--"His wife!It is the only way I can be his slave-woman! Let me marry him while heknows nothing, so that I may have the right to wait upon him and carefor him! He shall never know! For--if he comes to himself again--pleaseGod he will!--as soon as that happens I will go away at once. He willnever know!--he shall never learn who it is that has cared for him! Yousee? I shall never be really his wife--nor he my husband--only in name.And then--when he comes out of the darkness--when he is strong and wellonce more, he will go to YOU!--you whom he loves--"
Morgana silenced her by a gesture which was at once commanding andsweetly austere.
"Dear girl, he never loved me!" she said, gently--"He has always lovedhimself. Yes!--you know that as well as I do! Once--I fancied I lovedHIM--but now I know my way of love is not his. Let us say no more ofit! You wish to be his wife? Do you think what that means? He willnever know he is your husband--never recognise you,--your life will besacrificed to a helpless creature whose brain is gone--who will beunconscious of your care and utterly irresponsive. Oh, sweet, TOOloving Manella!--you must not pledge the best years of your youth andbeauty to such a destiny!"
Manella's dark eyes flashed with passionate ardour and enthusiasm.
"I must--I must!" she said--"It is the work God gives me to do! Do younot see how it is with me? It is my one love--the best of myheart!--the pulse of my life! Youth and beauty!--what are they withouthim? Ill or well, he is all I care for, and if I may not care for him Iwill die! It is quite easy to die--to make an end!--but if there is anyyouth or beauty to spend, it will be better to spend it on love than indeath! My white angel, listen and be patient with me! You ARE patientbut still be more so!--you know there will be none in the world to carefor him!--ah!--when he was well and strong he said that love wouldweary him--he did not think he would ever be helpless and ill!--ah,no!--but a broken brain is put away--out of sight--to be forgotten likea broken toy! He was at work on some wonderful invention--some greatsecret!--it will never be known now--not a soul will ever ask what hasbecome of it or of him! The world does not care what becomes ofanyone--it has no sympathy. Only those who love greatly have any pity!"
She clasped her hands and lifted them in an attitude of prayer, layingthem against Morgana's breast.
"You will let me have my way--surely you will?" she pleaded--"You are alittle angel of mercy, unlike any other woman I ever saw--so white andpure and sweet!--you understand it all! In his dreadful weakness andloneliness, God gives him to ME!--happy me, who am young and strongenough to care for him and attend upon him. I have no money,--perhapshe has none either, but I will work to keep him,--I am clever at myneedle--I can embroider quite well--and I will manage to earn enoughfor us both." Her voice broke in a sob, and Morgana, the tears fallingfrom her own eyes, drew her into a close embrace.
And she murmured plaintively again--
"His wife!--I must be his wife,--his serving-woman--then no one canforbid me to be with him! You will find some good priest to say themarriage service for us and give us God's benediction--it will meannothing to him, because he cannot know or understand,--but to me itwill be a holy sacrament!"
Then she broke down and wept softly till the pent-up passion of herheart was relieved, and Morgana, mastering her own emotion, had soothedher into quietude. Leaning back from h
er arm-chair where she had restedsince rising from her bed, she looked up with an anxious appeal in herlovely eyes.
"Let me tell you something before I forget it again"--she said--"It issomething terrible--the earthquake."
"Yes, yes, do not think of it now"--said Morgana, hastily, afraid thather mind would wander into painful mazes of recollection--"That is allover."
"Ah, yes! But you should know the truth! It was NOT an earthquake!" shepersisted--"It was not God's doing! It was HIS work!"
And she indicated by a gesture the next room where Roger Seaton lay.
A cold horror ran through Morgana's blood. HIS work!--the widespreadruin of villages and townships,--the devastation of a vast tract ofcountry--the deaths of hundreds of men, women and little children--HISwork? Could it be possible? She stood transfixed,--while Manella wenton--
"I know it was his work!" she said--"I was warned by a friend of hiswho came to 'la Plaza' that he was working at something which mightlose him his life. And so I watched. I told you how I followed him thatmorning--how I saw him looking at a box full of shining things thatglittered like the points of swords,--how he put this box in a case andthen in a basket, and slung the basket over his shoulder, and went downinto the canon, and then to the cave where I found him. I calledhim--he heard, and held up a miner's lamp and saw me!--then--then, oh,dear God!--then he cursed me for following him,--he raised his arm tostrike me, and in his furious haste to reach me he slipped on the wet,mossy stones. Something fell from his hand with a great crash likethunder--and there was a sudden glare of fire!--oh, the awfulness ofthat sound and that flame!--and the rocks rose up and splitasunder--the ground shook and broke under me--and I remember nomore--no more till I found myself here!--here with you!"
Morgana roused herself from the stupefaction of horror with which shehad listened to this narration.
"Do not think of it any more!" she said in a low sad voice--"Try toforget it all. Yes, dear!--try to forget all the mad selfishness andcruelty of the man you love! Poor, besotted soul!--he has a bitterpunishment!"
She could say no more then,--stooping, she kissed the girl on the whiteforehead between the rippling waves of dark hair, and strove to meetthe searching eyes with a smile.
"Dear, beautiful angel, you will help me?" Manella pleaded--"You willhelp me to be his wife?"
And Morgana answered with pitiful tenderness.
"I will!"
And with a sign to Lady Kingswood to come nearer and sit by the girl asshe lay among her pillows more or less exhausted, she herself left theroom. As she opened the door on her way out, the strong voice of RogerSeaton rang out with singularly horrible harshness--
"There shall be no more wars! There can be none! I say it! My greatsecret! I am master of the world!"
Shuddering as she heard, she pressed her hands over her ears andhurried along the corridor. Her thoughts paraphrased the saying ofMadame Roland on Liberty--"Oh, Science! what crimes are committed inthy name!" She was anxious to see and speak with Professor Ardini, butcame upon the Marchese Rivardi instead, who met her at the door of thelibrary and caught her by both hands.
"What is all this?" he demanded, insistently--"I MUST speak to you! Youhave been weeping! What is troubling you?"
She drew her hands gently away from his.
"Nothing, Giulio!" and she smiled kindly--"I grieve for the griefs ofothers--quite uselessly!--but I cannot help it!"
"There is no hope, then?" he said.
"None--not for the man"--she replied--"His body will live,--but hisbrain is dead."
Rivardi gave an expressive gesture.
"Horrible! Better he should die!"
"Yes, far better! But the girl loves him. She is an ardent Spanishcreature--warm-hearted and simple as a child,--she believes"--andMorgana's eyes had a pathetic wistfulness--"she believes,--as all womenbelieve when they love for the first time,--that love has a divinepower next to that of God!--that it will work miracles of recovery whenall seems lost. The disillusion comes, of course, sooner or later,--butit has to come of itself--not through any other influence. She--ManellaSoriso--has resolved to be his wife."
"Gran' Dio!" Rivardi started back in utter amazement--"His wife?--Thatgirl? Young, beautiful? She will chain herself to a madman? Surely youwill not allow it!"
Morgana looked at him with a smile.
"Poor Giulio!" she said, softly--"You are a most unfortunate descendantof your Roman ancestors as far as we women are concerned! You fall inlove with me--and you find I am not for you!--then you see a perfectlylovely woman whom you cannot choose but admire--and a little straythought comes flying into your head--yes!--quite involuntarily!--thatperhaps--only perhaps--her love might come your way! Do not be angry,my friend!--it was only a thought that moved you when you saw her theother day--when I called you to look at her as she recoveredconsciousness and lay on her bed like a sleeping figure of theloveliest of pagan goddesses! What man could have seen her thus withouta thrill of tenderness!--and now you have to hear that all that beautyand warmth of youthful life is to be sacrificed to a stone idol!--(forthe man she worships is little more!) ah, yes!--I am sorry for you,Giulio!--but can do nothing to prevent the sacrifice,--indeed, I havepromised to assist it!"
Rivardi had alternately flushed and paled while she spoke,--her keen,incisive probing of his most secret fancies puzzled and vexed him,--butwith a well-assumed indifference he waved aside her delicately pointedsuggestions as though he had scarcely heard them, and said--
"You have promised to assist? Can you reconcile it to your conscienceto let this girl make herself a prisoner for life?"
"I can!" she answered quietly--"For if she is opposed in her desire forsuch imprisonment she will kill herself. So it is wisest to let herhave her way. The man she loves so desperately may die at any moment,and then she will be free. But meanwhile she will have the consolationof doing all she can for him, and the hope of helping him to recover;vain hope as it may be, there is a divine unselfishness in it. For shesays that if he is restored to health she will go away at once andnever let him know she is his wife."
Rivardi's handsome face expressed utter incredulity.
"Will she keep her word I wonder?"
"She will!"
"Marvellous woman!" and there was bitterness in his tone--"But womenare all amazing when you come to know them! In love? in hate, in good,in evil, in cleverness and in utter stupidity, they are wonderfulcreatures! And you, amica bella, are perhaps the most wonderful of themall! So kind and yet so cruel!"
"Cruel?" she echoed.
"Yes! To me!"
She looked at him and smiled. That smile gave such a dreamy, spiritlikesweetness to her whole personality that for the moment she seemed tofloat before him like an aerial vision rather than a woman of flesh andblood, and the bold desire which possessed him to seize and clasp herin his arms was checked by a sense of something like fear. Her eyesrested on his with a full clear frankness.
"If I am cruel to you, my friend"--she said, gently, "it is only to bemore kind!"
She left him then and went out. He saw her small, elfin figure passamong the chains of roses which at this season seemed to tie up thegarden in brilliant knots of colour, and then go down the terraces, oneby one, towards the monastic retreat half buried among pine and olive,where Don Aloysius governed his little group of religious brethren.
He guessed her intent.
"She will tell him all"--he thought--"And with his strangesemi-religious, semi-scientific notions, it will be easy for her topersuade him to marry the girl to this demented creature who fills thehouse with his shouting 'There shall be no more wars!' I should neverhave thought her capable of tolerating such a crime!"
He turned to leave the loggia,--but paused as he perceived ProfessorArdini advancing from the interior of the house, his hands claspedbehind his back and his furrowed brows bent in gloomy meditation.
"You have a difficult case?" he queried.
"More than difficult!" replied Ardini--"Beyond human skill!
Perhaps notbeyond the mysterious power we call God."
Rivardi shrugged his shoulders. He was a sceptic of sceptics and hismodern-world experiences had convinced him that what man could not dowas not to be done at all.
"The latest remedy proposed by the Signora is--love!" he said,carelessly--"The girl who is here,--Manella Soriso--has made up hermind to be the wife of this unfortunate--"
Ardini gave an expressive gesture.
"Altro! If she has made up her mind, heaven itself will not move her!It will be a sublime sacrifice of one life for another,--what wouldyou? Such sacrifices are common, though the world does not hear ofthem. In this instance there is no one to prevent it."
"You approve--you tolerate it?" exclaimed Rivardi angrily.
"I have no power to approve or to tolerate"--replied the scientist,coldly--"The matter is not one in which I have any right to interfere.Nor,--I think,--have YOU!--I have stated such facts as exist--that theman's brain is practically destroyed--but that owing to the strength ofthe life-centres he will probably exist in his present condition for afull term of years. To keep him so alive will entail considerable careand expense. He will need a male nurse--probably two--food of the bestand absolutely tranquil surroundings. If the Signora, who is rich andgenerous, guarantees these necessities, and the girl who loves himdesires to be his wife under such terrible conditions, I do not see howanyone can object to the marriage."
"Then he poor devil of a man will be married without his knowledge, andprobably (if he had his senses) against his will!" said Rivardi.
Ardini bent his brows yet more frowningly.
"Just so!" he answered--"But he has neither knowledge nor will--nor ishe likely ever to have them again. These great attributes of the god inman have been taken from him. Power and Will!--Will and Power!--the twowings of the Soul!--they are gone, probably for ever. Science can donothing to bring them back, but I will not deny the possibility ofother forces which might work a remedy on this ruin of a 'master of theworld' as he calls himself! Therefore I say let the love-woman try herbest!"
CHAPTER XXVI
Don Aloysius sat in his private library,--a room little larger than amonastic cell, and at his feet knelt Morgana like a child at prayer.The rose and purple glow of the sunset fell aslant through a high orielwindow of painted glass, shedding an aureole round her golden head, andintensified the fine, dark intellectual outline of the priest'sfeatures as he listened with fixed attention to the soft pure voice,vibrating with tenderness and pity as she told him of the love thatsought to sacrifice itself for love's sake only.
"In your Creed and in mine,"--she said--"there is no union which isreal or binding save the Spiritual,--and this may be consummated insome way beyond our knowledge when once the sacred rite is said. Youneed no explanation from me,--you who are a member and future denizenof the Golden City,--you, who are set apart to live long after thesepoor human creatures have passed away with the unthinking millions ofthe time--and you can have no hesitation to unite them as far as theyCAN be united, so that they may at least be saved from the malicioustongues of an always evil-speaking world. You once asked me to tell youof the few moments of real happiness I have known,--this will be one ofthe keenest joys to me if I can satisfy this loving-hearted girl andaid her to carry out her self-chosen martyrdom. And you must help me!"
Gently Aloysius laid his hand on her bent head.
"It will be indeed a martyrdom!" he said, slowly, "Long and torturing!Think well of it!--a woman, youthful and beautiful, chained to a merebreathing image of man,--a creature who cannot recognise either personsor objects, who is helpless to move, and who will remain in thatpitiable state all his life, if he lives!--dear child, are youconvinced there is no other way?"
"Not for her!" Morgana replied--"She has set her soul to try if Godwill help her to restore him,--she will surround him with the constantinfluence of a perfectly devoted love. Dare we say there shall be nohealing power in such an influence?--we who know so much of which theworld is ignorant!"
He stroked her shining hair with a careful tenderness as one mightstroke the soft plumage of a bird.
"And you?" he said, in a low tone--"What of you?"
She raised her eyes to his. A light of heaven's own radiance shone inthose blue orbs--an angelic peace beyond all expression.
"What should there be of me except the dream come true?" she responded,smiling--"You know my plans,--you also know my destiny, for I have toldyou everything! You will be the controller of all my wealth, entrustedto carry out all my wishes, till it is time either for you to comewhere I am, or for me to return hither. We never know how or when thatmay be. But it has all seemed plain sailing for me since I saw the citycalled 'Brazen' but which WE know is Golden!--and when I found that youbelonged to it, and were only stationed here for a short time, I knew Icould give you my entire confidence. It is not as if we were of thepassing world or its ways--we are of the New Race, and time does notcount with us."
"Quite true," he said--"But for these persons in whom you areinterested, time is still considered--and for the girl it will be long!"
"Not with such love as hers!" replied Morgana. "Each moment, each hourwill be filled with hope and prayer and constant vigilance. Love makesall things easy! It is useless to contend with a fate which both theman and woman have made for themselves. He is--I should say he was ascientist, who discovered the means of annihilating any section ofhumanity at his own wish and will--he played with the fires of God andbrought annihilation on himself. MY discovery--the force that moves myair-ship--the force that is the vital element of all who live in theGolden City--is the same as his!--but _I_ use it for health andmovement, progress and power--not for the destruction of any livingsoul! By one single false step he has caused the death and misery ofhundreds of helpless human creatures--and this terror has recoiled onhis own head. The girl Manella has no evil thought in her--she simplyloves!--her love is ill placed, but she also has brought her owndestiny on herself. You have worked--and so have I--WITH the universalforce, not as the world does, AGAINST it,--and we have made OURSELVESwhat we are and what we SHALL BE. There is no other way either forwardor backward,--you know there is not!" Here she rose from her knees andconfronted him, a light aerial creature of glowing radiance and elfinloveliness--"And you must fulfil her wish--and mine!"
He rose also and stood erect, a noble figure of a man with a dignifiedbeauty of mien and feature that seemed to belong to the classic agerather than ours.
"So be it!" he said--"I will carry out all your commands to the letter!May I just say that your generosity to Giulio Rivardi seems almostunnecessary? To endow him with a fortune for life is surely tooindulgent! Does he merit such bounty at your hands?"
She smiled.
"Dear Father Aloysius, Giulio has lost his heart to me!" she said--"Orwhat he calls his heart! He should have some recompense for the loss!He wants to restore his old Roman villa--and when I am gone he willhave nothing to distract him from this artistic work,--I leave him themeans to do it! I hope he will marry--it is the best thing for him!"
She turned to go.
"And your own Palazzo d'Oro?--"
"Will become the abode of self-sacrificing love," she replied--"Itcould not be put to better use! It was a fancy of mine;--I love it andits gardens--and I should have tried to live there had I not found outthe secret of a large and longer life!" She paused--thenadded--"To-morrow morning you will come?"
He bent his head.
"To-morrow!"
With a salute of mingled reverence and affection she left him. Hewatched her go,--and hearing the bell begin to chime in the chapel forvespers, he lifted his eyes for a moment in silent prayer. A lightflashed downward, playing on his hands like a golden ripple,--and hestood quietly expectant and listening. A Voice floated along theRay--"You are doing well and rightly!" it said--"You will release hernow from the strain of seeming to be what she is not. She is of the NewRace, and her spirit is advanced too far to endure the grossness andmaterialism of the Old ge
neration. She deserves all she has studied andworked for,--lasting life, lasting beauty, lasting love! Nothing musthinder her now!"
"Nothing shall!" he answered.
The Ray lessened in brilliancy and gradually diminished till itentirely vanished,--and Don Aloysius, with the rapt expression of asaint and visionary, entered the chapel where his brethren were alreadyassembled, and chanted with them--
"Magna opera Domini; exquisita in omnes voluntates ejus!"
The next morning, all radiant with sunshine, saw the strangest ofnuptial ceremonies,--one that surely had seldom, if ever, beenwitnessed before in all the strange happenings of human chance. ManellaSoriso, pale as a white arum lily, her rich dark hair adorned with asingle spray of orange-blossom gathered from the garden, stoodtrembling beside the bed where lay stretched out the immobile form ofthe once active, world-defiant Roger Seaton. His eyes, wide open andstaring into vacancy, were, like dull pebbles, fixed in his head,--hisface was set and rigid as a mask of clay--only his regular breathinggave evidence of life. Manella's pitiful gazing on this ruin of the manto whom she had devoted her heart and soul, her tender sorrow, heryearning beauty, might have almost moved a stone image to a thrill ofresponse,--but not a flicker of expression appeared on the frozenfeatures of that terrible fallen pillar of human self-sufficiency.Standing beside the bed with Manella was Marco Ardini, intenselywatchful and eager to note even a quiver of the flesh or the tremor ofa muscle,--and near him was Lady Kingswood, terrified yet enthralled bythe scene, and anxious on behalf of Morgana, who looked statuesque andpensive like a small attendant angel close to Don Aloysius. He, in hispriestly robes, read the marriage service with soft and impressiveintonation, himself speaking the responses for the bride-groom,--andtaking Manella's hand he placed it on Seaton's, clasping the twotogether, the one so yielding and warm, the other stiff as marble, andsetting the golden marriage ring which Morgana had given, on thebride's finger. As he made the sign of the cross and uttered the finalblessing, Manella sank on her knees and covered her face. Therefollowed a tense silence--Aloysius laid his hand on her bent head--
"God help and bless you!" he said, solemnly--"Only the Divine Power cangive you strength to bear the burden you have taken on yourself!"
But at his words she sprang up, her eyes glowing with a great joy.
"It is no burden!" she said--"I have prayed to be his slave--and now Iam his wife! That is more than I ever dared to dream of!--for now Ihave the right to care for him, to work for him, and no one canseparate me from him! What happiness for me! But I will not take a meanadvantage of this--ah, no!--no good, Father! Listen!--I swear beforeyou and the holy Cross you wear, that if he recovers he shall neverknow!--I will leave him at once without a word--he shall think I am aservant in his employ--or rather he shall not think at all about me forI will go where he can never find me, and he will be as free as ever hewas! Yes, truly!--by the blessed Madonna I swear it! I will kill myselfrather than let him know!"
She looked regally beautiful, her face flushed with the pride and loveof her soul,--and in her newly gained privilege as a wife she bent downand kissed the pallid face that lay like the face of a corpse on thepillow before her.
"He is a poor wounded child just now!" she murmured, tenderly--"But Iwill care for him in his weakness and sorrow! The doctor will tell mewhat to do--and it shall all be done! I will neglect nothing--as formoney, I have none--but I will work--"
Morgana put an arm about her.
"Dear, do not think of that!" she said--"For the present you will stayhere--I am going on a journey very soon, and you and Lady Kingswoodwill take care of my house till I return. Be quite satisfied!--You willhave all you want for him and for yourself. Professor Ardini will talkto you now and tell you everything--come away--"
But Manella was gazing intently at the figure on the bed--she saw itsgrey lips move. With startling suddenness a harsh voice smote the air--
"There shall be no more wars! There can be none! My Great Secret! I amMaster of the World!"
She shrank and shivered, and a faint sobbing cry escaped her.
"Come!" said Morgana again,--and gently led her away. The spray oforange-blossom fell from her hair as she moved, and Don Aloyslus,stooping, picked it up. Marco Ardini saw his action.
"You will keep that as a souvenir of this strange marriage?" he said.
"No,--" and Don Aloysius touched the white fragrant flower with hiscrucifix--"I will lay it as a votive offering on the altar of theEternal Virgin!"
* * * * *
About a fortnight later life at the Palazzo d'Oro had settled intoorganised lines of method and routine. Professor Ardini had selectedtwo competent men attendants, skilled in surgery and medicine to watchSeaton's case with all the care trained nursing could give, and himselfhad undertaken to visit the patient regularly and report his condition.Seaton's marriage to Manella Soriso had been briefly announced in theEuropean papers and cabled to the American Press, Senator Gwent beingone of the first who saw it thus chronicled, much to his amazement.
"He has actually become sane at last!" he soliloquised, "And beauty hasconquered science! I gave the girl good advice--I told her to marry himif she could,--and she's done it! I wonder how they escaped thatearthquake? Perhaps that brought him to his senses! Well, well! Idaresay I shall be seeing them soon over here--I suppose they arespending their honeymoon with Morgana. Curious affair! I'd like to knowthe ins and outs of it!"
"Have you seen that Roger Seaton is married?" was the question asked ofhim by every one he knew, especially by the flashing society butterflyonce Lydia Herbert, who in these early days of her marriage was gettingeverything she could out of her millionaire--"And NOT to Morgana! Justthink! What a disappointment for her!--I'm sure she was in love withhim!"
"I thought so"--Gwent answered, cautiously--"And he with her! But--onenever knows--"
"No, one never does!" laughed the fair Lydia--"Poor Morgana! Left onthe stalk! But she's so rich it won't matter. She can marry anybody shelikes."
"Marriage isn't everything," said Gwent--"To some it may beheaven,--but to others--"
"The worser place!"--agreed Lydia--"And Morgana is not like ordinarywomen. I wonder what she's doing, and when we shall see her again?"
"Yes--I wonder!" Gwent responded vaguely,--and the subject dropped.
They might have had more than ordinary cause to "wonder" had they beenable to form even a guess as to the manner and intentions of life heldby the strange half spiritual creature whom they imagined to be but anordinary mortal moved by the same ephemeral aims and desires as therest of the grosser world. Who,--even among scientists, accustomed asthey are to study the evolution of grubs into lovely rainbow-wingedshapes, and the transformation of ordinary weeds into exquisite flowersof perfect form and glorious colour, goes far enough or deep enough torealise similar capability of transformation in a human organismself-trained to so evolve and develop itself? Who, at this time ofday,--even with the hourly vivid flashes kindled by the research lampsof science, reverts to former theories of men like De Gabalis, who heldthat beings in process of finer evolution and formation, and known as"elementals," nourishing their own growth into exquisite existence,through the radio-force of air and fire, may be among us, allunrecognised, yet working their way out of lowness to highness,indifferent to worldly loves, pleasures and opinions, and only bent onthe attainment of immortal life? Such beliefs serve only as materialfor the scoffer and iconoclast,--nevertheless they may be true for allthat, and may in the end confound the mockery of materialism which initself is nothing but the deep shadow cast by a great light.
The strangest and most dramatic happenings have the knack of settlingdown into the commonplace,--and so in due course the days at thePalazzo d'Oro went on tranquilly,--Manella being established there andknown as "la bella Signora Seaton" by the natives of the littlesurrounding villages, who were gradually brought to understand thehelpless condition of her husband and pitied her accordingly. LadyKingswood had a
greed to stay as friend and protectress to the girl aslong as Morgana desired it,--indeed she had no wish to leave thebeautiful Sicilian home she had so fortunately found, and where she wastreated with so much kindness and consideration.
There was no lack or stint of wealth to carry out every arranged plan,and Manella was too simple and primitive in her nature to questionanything that her "little white angel" as she called her, suggested orcommanded. Intensely grateful for the affectionate care bestowed uponher, she acquiesced in what she understood to be the methods ofpossible cure for the ruined man to whom she had bound her life.
"If he gets well--quite, quite well"--she said, lifting her splendiddark eyes to Morgana's blue as "love-in-a-mist" "I will go away andgive him to you!"
And she meant it, having no predominant idea in her mind save that ofmaking her elect beloved happy.
Meanwhile Morgana announced her intention of taking another aerialvoyage in the "White Eagle"--much to the joy of Giulio Rivardi.Receiving his orders to prepare the wonderful air-ship for a longflight, he and Gaspard worked energetically to perfect every detail.Where he had previously felt a certain sense of fear as to thecapabilities of the great vessel, controlled by a force of whichMorgana alone had the secret, he was now full of certainty andconfidence, and told her so.
"I am glad"--he said--"that you are leaving this place where you haveinstalled people who to me seem quite out of keeping with it. Thatterrible man who shouts 'I am master of the world'!--ah, caraMadonna!--I did not work at your fairy Palazzo d'Oro for such anoccupant!"
"I know you did not;"-=she answered, gently--"Nor did I intend it to beso occupied. I dreamed of it as a home of pleasure where I shoulddwell--alone! And you said it would be lonely!--you remember?"
"I said it was a place for love!" he replied.
"You were right! And love inhabits it--love of the purest, mostunselfish nature--"
"Love that is a cruel martyrdom!" he interposed.
"True!" and her eyes shone with a strange brilliancy--"But love--as theworld knows it--is never anything else! There, do not frown, my friend!You will never wear its crown of thorns! And you are glad I am goingaway?"
"Yes!--glad that you will have a change"--he said--"Your constant careand anxiety for these people whom we rescued from death must have tiredyou out unconsciously. You will enjoy a free flight through space,--andthe ship is in perfect condition; she will carry you like an angel inthe air!"
She smiled and gave him her hand.
"Good Giulio!--you are quite a romancist!--you talk of angels withoutbelieving in them!"
"I believe in them when I look at YOU!" he said, with all an Italian'simpulsive gallantry.
"Very pretty of you!" and she withdrew her hand from his too ferventclasp,--"I feel sorry for myself that I cannot rightly appreciate socharming a compliment!"
"It is not a compliment"--he declared, vehemently; "It is a truth!"
Her eyes dwelt on him with a wistful kindness.
"You are what some people call 'a good fellow,' Giulio!" she said--"Andyou deserve to be very happy. I hope you will be so! I want you toprosper so that you may restore your grand old villa to its formerbeauty,--I also want you to marry--and bring up a big family"--here shelaughed a little--"A family of sons and daughters who will be gratefulto you, and not waste every penny you give them--though that is themodern way of sons and daughters."
She paused, smiling at his moody expression. "And you say everything isready?--the 'White Eagle' is prepared for flight?"
"She will leave the shed at a moment's touch"--he answered--"when YOUsupply the motive power!"
She nodded comprehensively, and thought a moment. "Come to me the dayafter to-morrow"--she said--"You will then have your orders."
"Is it to be a long flight this time?" he asked.
"Not so long as to California!" she answered--"But long enough!"
With that she left him. And he betook himself to the air-shed where thesuperb "White Eagle" rested all a-quiver for departure, palpitating, orso it seemed to him, with a strange eagerness for movement which struckhim as unusual and "uncanny" in a mere piece of mechanism.
The next day moved on tranquilly. Morgana wrote many letters--andvaried this occupation by occasionally sitting in the loggia to talkwith Manella and Lady Kingswood, both of whom now seemed the naturalinhabitants of the Palazzo d'Oro. She spoke easily of her intendedair-trip,--so that they accepted her intention as a matter of course,Manella only entreating--"Do not be long away!" her lovely, eloquenteyes emphasising her appeal. Now and again the terrible cries of "Thereshall be no more wars! There can be none! My Great Secret! I am Masterof the World!" rang through the house despite the closed doors,--crieswhich they feigned not to hear, though Manella winced with pain, as ata dagger thrust, each time the sounds echoed on the air.
And the night came,--mildly glorious, with a full moon shining in analmost clear sky--clear save for little delicate wings of snowy clouddrifting in the east like wandering shapes of birds that haunted thedomain of sunrise. Giulio Rivardi, leaning out of one of the richlysculptured window arches of his half-ruined villa, looked at the skywith pleasurable anticipation of the morrow's intended voyage in the"White Eagle."
"The weather will be perfect!" he thought--"She will be pleased. Andwhen she is pleased no woman can be more charming! She is notbeautiful, like Manella--but she is something more than beautiful--sheis bewitching! I wonder where she means to go!"
Suddenly a thought struck him,--a vivid impression coming from he knewnot whence--an idea that he had forgotten a small item of detail in theair-ship which its owner might or might not notice, but which wouldcertainly imply some slight forgetfulness on his part. He glanced athis watch,--it was close on midnight. Acting on a momentary impulse hedecided not to wait till morning, but to go at once down to the shedand see that everything in and about the vessel was absolutely andfinally in order. As he walked among the perfumed tangles of shrub andflower in his garden, and out towards the sea-shore he was impressed bythe great silence everywhere around him. Everything looked like amoveless picture--a study in still life. Passing through a little olivewood which lay between his own grounds and the sea, he paused as hecame out of the shadow of the trees and looked towards the heightcrowned by the Palazzo d'Oro, where from the upper windows twinkled afew lights showing the position of the room where the "master of theworld" lay stretched in brainless immobility, waited upon by medicalnurses ever on the watch, and a wife of whom he knew nothing, guardinghim with the fixed devotion of a faithful dog rather than of a humanbeing. Going onwards in a kind of abstract reverie, he came to a haltagain on reaching the shore, enchanted by the dreamy loveliness of thescene. In an open stretch of dazzling brilliancy the sea presenteditself to his eyes like a delicate network of jewels finely strung onswaying threads of silver, and he gazed upon it as one might gaze onthe "fairy lands forlorn" of Keats in his enchanting poesy. Neversurely, he thought, had he seen a night so beautiful,--so perfect inits expression of peace. He walked leisurely,--the long shed whichsheltered the air-ship was just before him, its black outlinesilhouetted against the sky--but as he approached it more nearly,something caused him to stop abruptly and stare fixedly as thoughstricken by some sudden terror--then he dashed off at a violent run,till he came to a breathless halt, crying out--"Gran' Dio! It has gone!"
Gone! The shed was empty! No air-ship was there, poised trembling onits own balance all prepared for flight,--the wonderful "White Eagle"had unfurled its wings and fled! Whither? Like a madman he rushed upand down, shouting and calling in vain--it was after midnight and therewas no one about to hear him. He started to run to the Palazzo d'Oro togive the alarm--but was held back--held by an indescribable force whichhe was powerless to resist. He struggled with all his might,--uselessly.
"Morganna!" he cried in a desperate voice--"Morganna!"
Running down to the edge of the sea he gazed across it and up to thewonderful sky through which the moon rolled lazily like a silver ball.Was there n
othing to be seen there save that moon and the moon-dimmedstars? With eager straining eyes he searched every quarter of thevisible space--stay! Was that a white dove soaring eastwards?--or acloud sinking to its rest?
"Morgana!" he cried again, stretching out his arms in despair--"She hasgone! And alone!"
Even as he spoke the dove-like shape was lost to sight beyond theshining of the evening star.
L'Envoi
Several months ago the ruin of a great air-ship was found on theoutskirts of the Great Desert so battered and broken as to make itsmechanism unrecognisable. No one could trace its origin,--no one coulddiscover the method of its design. There was no remnant of any engine,and its wings were cut to ribbons. The travellers who came upon itsfragments half buried in the sand left it where they found it, decidingthat a terrible catastrophe had overtaken the unfortunate aviators whohad piloted it thus far. They spoke of it when they returned to Europe,but came upon no one who could offer a clue to its possible origin.These same travellers were those who a short time since filled acertain section of the sensational press with tales of a "Brazen City"seen from the desert in the distance, with towers and cupolas thatshone like brass or like "the city of pure gold," revealed to St. Johnthe Divine, where "in the midst of the street of it" is the Tree ofLife. Such tales were and are received with scorn by the world'smajority, for whom food and money constitute the chief interest ofexistence,--nevertheless tradition sometimes proves to be true, anddreams become realities. However this may be, Morgana lives,--and canmake her voice heard when she will along the "Sound Ray"--thatwonderful "wireless" which is soon to be declared to the world. Forthere is no distance that is not bridged by light,--and no separationof sounds that cannot be again brought into unison and harmony. "Thereare more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in ourphilosophy,"--and the "Golden City" is one of those things! "Masters ofthe world" are poor creatures at best,--but the secret Makers of theNew Race are the gods of the Future!
The End
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