Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22)

by Marie Corelli

  His steel-blue eyes flashed with an almost supernatural brilliancy as he put the question, and I was conscious of a sense of fear. But I conquered this and answered simply:

  “It is agreed!”

  He gave me a keen glance that swept me as it were from head to foot — then turning from me abruptly, struck a handle on his desk which set a loud bell clanging in some outer corridor. My former guide entered almost immediately, and Aselzion addressed him:

  “Honorius,” — he said— “show this lady to her room, She will follow the course of a probationer and student” — as he spoke, Honorius gave me a look of undisguised amazement and pity— “The moment she desires to leave, every facility for her departure is to be granted to her. As long as she remains under instruction the rule for her, as you know, is solitude and silence.”

  I looked at him, and thought how swiftly his face had changed. It was no longer softened by the grave benevolence and kindness that had sustained my courage, — a stern shadow darkened it, and his eyes were averted. I saw I was expected to leave the room, but I hesitated.

  “You will let me thank you,” — I murmured, holding out my hands timidly — almost pleadingly.

  He turned to me slowly and took my hands in his own.

  “Poor child, you have nothing to thank me for!” — he said. “Bear in mind, as one of your first lessons in the difficult way you are going, that you have nothing to thank anyone for, and nothing to blame anyone for in the shaping of your destiny but — Yourself! Go! — and may you conquer your enemy!”

  “My enemy?” I repeated, wonderingly.

  “Yes — again Yourself! The only power any man or woman has ever had, or ever will have, to contend with!”

  He dropped my hands, and I suppose I must have expressed some mute appeal in my upward glance at him, for the faintest shadow of a smile came on his lips.

  “God be with you!” he said, softly, and then with a gentle gesture signed to me to leave him. I at once obeyed, and followed the guide Honorius, who led me back to my own room, where, without speaking a word, he closed and locked the door upon me as before. To my surprise, I found my luggage which I had left at the inn placed ready for me — and on a small dresser set in a niche of the wall which I had not noticed before, there was a plate of fruit and dry bread, with a glass of cold water. On going to look at this little refection, which was simply yet daintily set out, I saw that the dresser was really a small lift, evidently connected with the domestic offices of the house, and I concluded that this would be the means by which all my meals would be served. I did not waste much time in thinking about it, however, — I was only too glad to be allowed to remain in the House of Aselzion on any terras, and the fact that I was imprisoned under lock and key did not now trouble me. I unpacked my few things, among which were three or four favourite books, — then I sat down to my frugal repast, for which hunger provided a keen appetite. When I had finished, I took a chair to the open window and sat there, looking out on the sea. I saw my friendly little rose leaning its crimson head against the wall just below me with quite a confidential air, and it gave me a sense of companionship, otherwise the solitude was profound. The sky was darkening into night, though one or two glowing bars of deep crimson still lingered as memories of the departed sun — and a pearly radiance to the eastward showed a suggestion of the coming moon. I felt the sense of deep environing silence closing me in like a wall — and looking back over my shoulder from the window to the interior of my room it seemed full of drifting shadows, dark and impalpable. I remembered I had no candle or any other sort of light — and this gave me a passing uneasiness, but only for a moment. I could go to bed, I thought, when I was tired of watching the sea. At any rate, I would wait for the moonrise, — the scene I looked upon was divinely peaceful and beautiful, — one that a painter or poet would have revelled in — and I was content. I was not conscious of any fear, — but I did feel myself being impressed as it were and gradually overcome by the deepening stillness and great loneliness of my surroundings. ‘The rule for her is solitude and silence.’ So had said Aselzion. And evidently the rule was being enforced.

  XIV. CROSS AND STAR

  The moon rose slowly between two bars of dark cloud which gradually whitened into silver beneath her shining presence, and a scintillating pathway of diamond-like reflections began to spread itself across the sea. I remained at the window, feeling an odd disinclination to turn away into the darkness of my room. And I began to think that perhaps it was rather hard that I should be left all by myself locked up in this way; — surely I might have been allowed a light of some sort! Then I at once reproached myself for allowing the merest suggestion of a complaint to enter my mind, for, after all, I was an uninvited guest in the House of Aselzion — I was not wanted — and I remembered the order that had been issued concerning me: ‘The moment she desires to leave, every facility for departure is to be granted to her.’ I was much more afraid of this ‘facility for departure’ than I was of my present solitude, and I determined to look upon the whole adventure in the best and most cheerful light. If it was best I should be alone, then loneliness was good — if it was necessary I should be in darkness, then darkness was also agreeable to me.

  Scarcely had I thus made up my mind to these conditions when my room was suddenly illumined by a soft yet effulgent radiance-and I started up in amazement, wondering where it came from. I could see no lamps or electric burners, — it was as if the walls glowed with some surface luminance. When my first surprise had passed, I was charmed and delighted with the warm and comforting brightness around me, — it rather reminded me of the electric brilliancy on the sails of the ‘Dream.’ I moved away from the window, leaving it open, as the night was very close and warm, and sat down at the table to read a little, but after a few minutes laid the book aside to listen to a strange whispering music that floated towards me, apparently from the sea, and thrilled me to the soul. No eloquent description could give any idea of the enthralling sweetness of the harmonies that were more BREATHED upon the air than sounded — and I became absorbed in following the rhythm of the delicious cadences as they rose and fell. Then by degrees my thoughts wandered away to Rafel Santoris, — where was he now? — in what peaceful expanse of shining waters had his fairy vessel cast anchor? I pictured him in my brain till I could almost see his face, — the broad brow, — the fearless, tender eyes and smile — and I could fancy that I heard the deep, soft accents of his voice, always so gentle when he spoke to me — me, who had half resented his influence! And a quick wave of long pent-up tenderness rose in my heart — my whole soul ran out, as it were, to greet him with outstretched arms — I knew in my own consciousness that he was more than all the world to me, and I said aloud:— “My beloved, I love you! I love you!” to the silence, almost as if I thought it could convey the words to him whom most I desired to hear them.

  Then I felt how foolish and futile it was to talk to the empty air when I might have confessed myself to the real lover of my life face to face, had I been less sceptical, — less proud! Was not my very journey to the House of Aselzion a testimony of my own doubting attitude? — for I had come, as I now admitted to myself, first to make sure that Aselzion really existed — and secondly, to prove to my own satisfaction that he was truly able to impart the mystical secrets which Rafel seemed to know. I wearied myself out at last with thinking to no purpose, and closing the window I undressed and went to bed. As I lay down, the light in my room was suddenly extinguished, and all was darkness again except for the moon, which sent a clear white ray straight through the lattice, there being no curtain to shut it out. For some time I remained awake on my hard little couch, looking at this ray, and steadily refusing to allow any sense of fear or loneliness to gain the mastery over me — the music which had so enchanted me ceased — and everything was perfectly still. And by and by my eyes closed — my tired limbs relaxed, — and I fell into a sound and dreamless sleep.

  When I awoke it was full morning, and th
e sunshine poured into my room like a shower of gold. I sprang up, full of delight that the night had passed so peacefully and that nothing strange or terrifying had occurred, though I do not know why I should have expected this. Everything seemed wonderfully fresh and beautiful in the brightness of the new day, and the very plainness of my room had a fascination greater than any amount of luxury. The only unusual thing I noticed was that the soft cold water with which my bath was supplied sparkled as though it were effervescent, — once or twice it seemed to ripple with a diamond-like foam, and it was never actually still. I watched its glittering movement for some minutes before bathing — then, feeling certain it was charged with some kind of electricity, I plunged into it without hesitation and enjoyed to the utmost the delicious sense of invigoration it gave me. When my toilet was completed and I had attired myself in a simple morning gown of white linen, as being more suitable to the warmth of the weather than the black one I had travelled in, I went to throw open my window and let in all the freshness of the sea-air, and was surprised to see a small low door open in the side of the turret, through which I discovered a winding stair leading downward. Yielding to the impulse of the moment, I descended it, and at the end found myself in an exquisite little rock garden abutting on the seashore. I could actually open a gate, and walk to the very edge of the sea. I was no longer a prisoner, then! — I could run away if I chose!

  I looked about me — and smiled as I saw the impossibility of any escape. The little garden belonged exclusively to the turret, and on each side of it impassable rocks towered up almost to the height of the Chateau d’Aselzion itself, while the bit of shore on which I stood was equally hemmed in by huge boulders against which the waves had dashed for centuries without making much visible impression. Yet it was delightful to feel I was allowed some liberty and open air, and I stayed for some minutes watching the sea and revelling in the warmth of the southern sun. Then I retraced my steps slowly, looking everywhere about me as I went, to see if there was anyone near. Not a soul was in sight.

  I returned to my room to find my bed made as neatly as though it had never been slept upon, — and my breakfast, consisting of a cup of milk and some wheaten biscuits, set out upon the table. I was quite ready for the meal, and enjoyed it. When I had finished, I took my empty cup and plate and put them on the dresser in the niche, whereupon the dresser was instantly lowered, and very soon disappeared. Then I began to wonder how I should employ myself. It was no use writing letters, though I had my own travelling desk ready for this purpose, — I did not wish my friends or acquaintances to know where I was — and even if I had written to any of them it was hardly likely that my correspondence would ever reach them. For I felt sure the mystic Brotherhood of Aselzion would not allow me to communicate with the outside world so long as I remained with them. I sat meditating, — and I began to consider that several days passed thus aimlessly would be difficult to bear. I could not keep correct count of time, my watch having stopped, and there was no clock or chime of any sort in the place that I could hear. The stillness around me would have been oppressive but for the soft dash of little waves breaking on the beach below my window. All at once, to my great joy, the door of my room opened, and the personage called Honorius entered. He bent his head slightly by way of salutation, and then said briefly, —

  “You are commanded to follow me.”

  I rose obediently, and stood ready. He looked at me intently and with curiosity, as though he sought to read my mind. Remembering that Aselzion had said I was not to speak unless spoken to, I only returned his look steadfastly, and with a smile.

  “You are not unhappy, or afraid, or restless,” — he said, slowly— “That is well! You are making a good beginning. And now, whatever you see or hear, keep silence! If you desire to speak, speak now — but after we leave this room not a word must escape your lips — not a single exclamation, — your business is to listen, learn and obey!”

  He waited — giving me the opportunity to say something in reply — but I preferred to hold my peace. He then handed me a folded length of soft white material, opaque, yet fine and silky as gossamer.

  “Cover yourself with this veil,” — he said— “and do not raise it till you return here.”

  I unfolded it and threw it quickly over me — it was as delicate as a filmy cloud and draped me from head to foot, effectually concealing me from the eyes of others though I myself could see through it perfectly. Honorius then signed to me to follow, and I did so, my heart beating quickly with excitement and expectation.

  We went through many passages with intricate turnings that seemed to have no outlet, — it was like threading one’s way through a maze — till at last I found myself shut within a small cell-like place with an opening in front of me through which I gazed upon a strange and picturesque scene. I saw the interior of a small but perfectly beautiful Gothic chapel, exquisitely designed, and lit by numerous windows of stained glass, through which the sunlight filtered in streams of radiant colour, patterning with gold, crimson and blue, the white marble flooring below. Between every tapering column that supported the finely carved roof, were two rows of benches, one above the other, and here sat an array of motionless white figures, — men in the garb of their mysterious Order, their faces almost concealed by their drooping cowls. There was no altar in this chapel, — but at its eastern end where the altar might have been, was a dark purple curtain against which blazed in brilliant luminance a Cross and Seven-pointed Star. The rays of light shed by this uplifted Symbol of an unwritten Creed were so vivid as to be almost blinding, and nearly eclipsed the summer glory of the sun itself. Awed by the strange and silent solemnity of my surroundings, I was glad to be hidden under the folds of my enshrouding white veil, though I realised that I was in a sort of secret recess made purposely for the use of those who were summoned to see all that went on in the chapel without being seen. I waited, full of eager anticipation, — and presently the low vibrating sound of the organ trembled on the air, gradually increasing in volume and power till a magnificent rush of music poured from it like a sudden storm breaking through clouds. I drew a long breath of pure ecstasy, — I could have knelt and wept tears of gratitude for the mere sense of hearing! Such music was divine! — the very idea of mortality was swallowed up in it and destroyed, and the imprisoned soul mounted up to the highest life on wings of light, rejoicing!

  When it ceased, as it did all too soon, there followed a profound silence, — so profound that I could hear the quick beating of my own heart as if I were the only living thing in the place. I turned my eyes towards the dazzling Cross and Star with its ever darting rays of fiery brilliancy, and the effect of its perpetual sparkle of lambent fire was as if an electric current were giving off messages which no mortal skill would ever be able to decipher or put into words, but which found their way to one’s deepest inward consciousness. All at once there was a slight movement among the rows of white-garmented, white-cowled figures hitherto sitting so motionless, — and with one accord they rose to their feet as a figure, tall, stately and imposing, came walking slowly across the chapel and stood directly in front of the flaming Symbol, holding both hands outstretched as though invoking a blessing. It was the Master, Aselzion, — Aselzion invested with such dignity and splendour as I had never thought possible to man. He might have posed for some god or hero, — his aspect was one of absolute power and calm self-poise, — other men might entertain doubts of themselves at the intention of their lives, but this one in his mere bearing expressed sureness, strength and authority. He wore his cowl thrown back, and from where I sat in my secluded corner I could see his features distinctly, and could watch the flash of his fine steadfast eyes as he turned them upon his followers. Keeping his hands extended, he said, in a firm, clear voice:

  “To the Creator of all things visible and invisible let us offer up our gratitude and praise, and so begin this day!”

  And a responsive murmur of voices answered him:

  “We praise Thee, O Di
vine Power of Love and Life eternal!

  We praise Thee for all we are!

  We praise Thee for all we have been!

  We praise Thee for all we hope to be! — Amen.”

  There followed a moment’s tense silence. Then the assembled brethren sat down in their places, and Aselzion spoke in measured, distinct accents, with the easy and assured manner of a practised orator.

  “Friends and Brethren!

  “We are gathered here together to consider in this moment of time the things we have done in the past, and the things we are preparing to do in the future. We know that from the Past, stretching back into infinity, we have ourselves made the Present, — and according to Divine law we also know that from this Present, stretching forward into infinity, we shall ourselves evolve all that is yet To Come. There is no power, no deity, no chance, no ‘fortuitous concurrence of atoms’ in what is simply a figure of the Universal Mathematics. Nothing can be ‘forgiven’ under the eternal law of Compensation, — nothing need be ‘prayed for,’ since everything is designed to accomplish each individual spirit’s ultimate good. You are here to learn not only the secret of life, but something of how to live that life; and I, in my capacity, am only striving to teach what Nature has been showing you for thousands of centuries, though you have not cared to master her lessons. The science of to-day is but Nature’s first primer — a spelling-book as it were, with the alphabet set out in pictures. You are told by sagacious professors, — who after all are no more than children in their newly studied wisdom, — that human life was evolved in the first instance from protoplasm — as they THINK, — but they lack the ability to tell you how the protoplasm was itself evolved — and WHY; where the material came from that went to the making of millions of solar systems and trillions of living organisms concerning whose existence we have no knowledge or perception. Some of them deny a God, — but most of them are driven to confess that there must be an Intelligence, supreme and omnipotent, behind the visible Universe. Order cannot come out of Chaos without a directing Mind; and Order would be quickly submerged into Chaos again were not the directing Mind of a nature to sustain its method and condition.