CHAPTER III
IN EMBRYO
A child on the floor, flat on her stomach in the red light of thestove, drawing pictures; her mother by the shaded lamp mendingstockings; her father reading; a faint odour of kerosene from theglass lamp in the room, and the rattle of sleet on roof and window;this was one of her childhood memories which never faded through allthe years of Ruhannah's life.
Of her waking hours she preferred that hour after supper when, lyingprone on the worn carpet, with pencil and paper, just outside thelamp's yellow circle of light, her youthful imagination kindled andcaught fire.
For at that hour the magic of the stove's glowing eyes transformed thesitting-room chairs to furtive watchers of herself, made of hermother's work-table a sly and spidery thing on legs, crouching inambush; bewitched the ancient cottage piano so that its ivory keysmenaced her like a row of monstrous teeth.
She adored it all. The tall secretary stared at her with owlishsignificance. Through that neutral veil where lamplight and shadowmeet upon the wall, the engraved portrait of a famous and godlymissionary peered down at her out of altered and malicious eyes; theclaw-footed, haircloth sofa was a stealthy creature offering to entrapher with wide, inviting arms; three folded umbrellas leaned over theedge of their shadowy stand, looking down at her like scrawny andbaleful birds, ready to peck at her with crooked handles. And as forAdoniram, her lank black cat, the child's restless creative fancy wasever transforming him from goblin into warlock, from hydra tohippogriff, until the earnestness of pretence sent agreeable shiversdown her back, and she edged a trifle nearer to her mother.
But when pretence became a bit too real and too grotesque she hadalways a perfect antidote. It was merely necessary to make a quickpicture of an angel or two, a fairy prince, a swan, and she feltherself in their company, and delightfully protected.
* * * * *
There was a night when the flowing roar of the gale outside filled thelamplit silence; when the snow was drifting level with the windowsills; when Adoniram, unable to prowl abroad, lay curled up tight andsound asleep beside her where she sat on the carpet in the stoveradiance. Wearied of drawing castles and swans, she had been listeningto her father reading passages aloud from the book on his knees to hermother who was sewing by the lamp.
Presently he continued his reading:
"I asked Alaro the angel: 'Which place is this, and which people arethese?'
"And he answered: 'This place is the star-track; and these are theywho in the world offered no prayers and chanted no liturgies. Throughother works they have attained felicity.'"
Her mother nodded, continuing to sew. Ruhannah considered what herfather had read, then:
"Father?"
"Yes----" He looked down at her absently.
"What were you reading?"
"A quotation from the Sacred Anthology."
"Isn't prayer really necessary?"
Her mother said:
"Yes, dear."
"Then how did those people who offered no prayers go to Heaven?"
Her father said:
"Eternal life is not attained by praise or prayer alone, Ruhannah.Those things which alone justify prayer are also necessary."
"What are they?"
"What we really _think_ and what we _do_--both only in Christ's name.Without these nothing else counts very much--neither form norconvention nor those individual garments called creed anddenomination, which belief usually wears throughout the world."
Her mother, sewing, glanced gravely down at her daughter:
"Your father is very tolerant of what other people believe--as long asthey really do believe. Your father thinks that Christ would havefound friends in Buddha and Mahomet."
"Do such people go to Heaven?" asked Ruhannah, astonished.
"Listen," said her father, reading again:
"'I came to a place and I saw the souls of the liberal, adorned aboveall other souls in splendour. And it seemed to me sublime.
"'I saw the souls of the truthful who walked in lofty splendour. Andit seemed to me sublime.
"'I saw the souls of teachers and inquirers; I saw the friendly soulsof interceders and peacemakers; and these walked brilliantly in thelight. And it seemed to me sublime----'"
He turned to his wife:
"To see and know _is_ sublime. We know, Mary; and Ruhannah isintelligent. But in spite of her faith in what she has learned fromus, like us she must one day travel the common way, seeking forherself the reasons and the evidences of immortality."
"Perhaps her faith, Wilbour----"
"Perhaps. But with the intelligent, faith, which is emotional, usuallyfollows belief; and belief comes only from reasoning. I think thatRuhannah is destined to travel the way of all intelligence when she isready to think for herself."
"I am ready now," said the girl. "I have faith in our Lord Jesus, andin my father and mother."
Her father looked at her:
"It is good building material. Some day, God willing, you shall builda very lofty temple with it. But the foundation of the temple mustfirst be certain. Intelligence ultimately requires reasons for belief.You will have to seek them for yourself, Ruhannah. Then, on them buildyour shrine of faith; and nothing shall shake it down."
"I don't understand."
"And I cannot explain. Only this; as you grow older, all around you inthe world you will become aware of people, countless millions andmillions of people, asking themselves--ready with the slightestencouragement, or without it, to ask you the question which is themost vital of all questions to them. And whatever way it is answeredalways they ask for evidence. You, too, will one day ask for evidence.All the world asks for it. But few recognise it as evidence when it isoffered."
He closed his book and dropped a heavy hand upon it.
"Amid the myriad pursuits and interests and trades and professions ofthe human race, amid their multitudinous aspirations, perplexities,doubts, passions, endeavours, deep within every intelligent manremains one dominant desire, one persistent question to be answered ifpossible."
"What desire, father?"
"The universal desire for another chance--for immortality. Man'snever-ending demand for evidence of an immortality which shallterminate for him the most tremendous of all uncertainties, whichshall solve for him the most vital of all questions: What is to becomeof him after physical death? Is he to live again? Is he to see oncemore those whom he loved the best?"
Ruhannah sat thinking in the red stove light, cross-legged, her slimankles clasped in either hand.
"But our souls are immortal," she said at last.
"Yes."
"Our Lord Jesus has said it."
"Yes."
"Then why should anybody not believe it?"
"Try to believe it always. Particularly after your mother and I are nolonger here, try to believe it.... You are unusually intelligent; andif some day your intelligence discovers that it requires evidence forbelief seek for that evidence. It is obtainable. Try to recognise itwhen you encounter it.... Only, in any event, remember this: neveralter your early faith, never destroy your childhood's belief untilevidence to prove the contrary convinces you."
"No.... There is no such evidence, is there, father?"
"I know of none."
"Then," said the girl calmly, "I shall take Christ's evidence that Ishall live again if I do no evil.... Father?"
"Yes."
"Is there any evidence that Adoniram has no soul?"
"I know of none."
"Is there any that he has a soul?"
"Yes, I think there is."
"Are you sure?"
"Not entirely."
"I wonder," mused the girl, looking gravely at the sleeping cat.
It was the first serious doubt that Ruhannah had ever entertained inher brief career.
That night she dreamed of the Yellow Devil in Herr Wilner's box, and,awaking, remembered her dream. It seemed odd, too, because she had noteven thought of th
e Yellow Devil for over a year.
But the menacing Mongol figure seemed bound to intrude into her lifeonce more and demand her attention as though resentful of longoblivion and neglect; for, a week later, an old missionary fromIndo-China--a native Chinese--who had lectured at the Baptist Churchin Gayfield the evening previous, came to pay his respects to theReverend Wilbour Carew. And Rue had taken the Yellow Devil from theolive-wood box that day and was busily making a pencil drawing of it.
At sight of the figure the native missionary's narrow almond eyesopened extremely wide, and he leaned on the table and regarded thebronze demon very intently.
Then he took from his pocket and adjusted to his button nose a pair oflarge, horn spectacles; and he carefully examined the Chinesecharacters engraved on the base of the ancient bronze, following themslowly with a yellow and clawlike forefinger.
"Can you read what is written there?" inquired the Reverend Mr.Carew.
"Yes, brother. This is what is written: 'I am Erlik, Ruler of Chaosand of All that Was. The old order passes when I arrive. I bringconfusion among the peoples; I hurl down emperors; kingdoms crumblewhere I pass; the world begins to rock and tip, spilling nations intoouter darkness. When there are no more kingdoms and no more kings; nomore empires and no emperors; and when only the humble till, theblameless sow, the pure reap; and when only the teachers teach in theshadow of the Tree, and when the Thinker sits unstirring under thehigh stars, then, from the dark edges of the world I let go my graspand drop into those immeasurable deeps from which I came--I, Erlik,Ruler of All that Was.'"
After a silence the Reverend Mr. Carew asked whether the figure was avery old one.
"It is before the period called 'Han'--a dynasty during which theMongols were a mighty people. This inscription is Mongol. Erlik wasthe Yellow Devil of the Mongols."
"Not a heathen god, then?"
"No, a heathen devil. Their Prince of Darkness."
Ruhannah, pencil in hand, looked curiously at this heathen Prince ofDarkness, arrived out of the dark ages to sit to her for his scowlingportrait.
"I wonder what he thinks of America," she said, partly to herself.
The native missionary smiled, picked up the Yellow Devil, shook thefigure, listening.
"There is something inside," he said; "perhaps jewels. If you drilleda hole in him you could find out."
The Reverend Mr. Carew nodded absently:
"Yes; it might be worth while," he said.
"If there is a jewel," repeated the missionary, "you had better takeit, then cast away the figure. Erlik brings disaster to the land wherehis image is set up."
The Reverend Mr. Carew smiled at his Chinese and Christian confrere'sineradicable vein of superstition.
The Dark Star Page 5
