SCENE IV.
In the same perspective as Scene III. is the Heavenly City on the Hill. Thronging spirits move to and fro.
The distance is full of radiance and of happy social life. In the foreground is seen a dim and desolate place. It is cavernous and mountainous. Its extreme edge yawns over a black space, like a gulf or pit, or it might be the mouth of an underground river. Here and there is a stark, dead tree. A narrow footpath winds among the crags. The path turns a sharp corner between boulders; and the fair contrast of a sunny country smiles beyond it. Rosebushes in full bloom peer above the top of the rocks. The annunciation lily is still prominent among the flowers. No sign of life appears in the mountainous foreground.
Suddenly, silently, and swiftly, moving from the sunny land, around the sharp turn in the pathway, feet and face set toward the cavernous region,
Enter Azrael, Angel of Death. (The
Angel is immovable of manner. But
an obvious tenderness wars with the
solemnity of his expression. He looks
neither to the right nor to the left, but
glides over the rough path steadily;
his robe, which is of dull, white gauze,
conceals his feet; his wings are
folded; he carries no flaming sword,
nor any weapon.)
(After a moment’s interval, following The Angel quickly,)
Enter Dr. Thorne (his robe is much
paler, but still of a purplish tint. It
is now clasped by the golden cross.
He cries aloud). Azrael!
Echo (from the caverns). Azrael!
(Azrael makes no reply. Moves on steadily.)
Dr. Thorne (in a lower voice). Azrael, Angel of Death!
(Azrael turns his head, but without pausing.)
Dr. Thorne. In the name of Him who strove with thee, and conquered thee—whither goest thou, Azrael?
(Azrael pauses. He looks over his folded wing at the man; regards him steadily; does not speak; moves on again. Dr. Thorne utters an inarticulate exclamation. He follows the Angel. Halfway down the path he stops, perplexed. His expression is anxious. Azrael moves on. He does not again look back; glides to the edge of the ravine. The scene darkens. The Angel does not pause, but can be seen to cross the gulf fleetly. He does not fly, but appears to tread the air across the space.)
[Vanish Azrael.
(Dr. Thorne stands alone in the gloom. His eyes are fixed upon the spot where the Angel disappeared. A low, rushing sound, as of water, can now be heard.)
Dr. Thorne (shudders; speaks). It seems like an underground river. Horrible! (Calls.) Azrael! Tell me thine errand—in this fearful place!
(Azrael neither replies nor appears. It grows very dark. The perspective of the Heavenly City fades. The rushing of the river can be heard. Now, through the unearthly gloom, upon the hither side of the gulf, slowly grow to form the outlines of a Woman. She stretches her arms out with the motion of one feeling her way. She moves with difficulty, tripping sometimes, but regaining her footing bravely. Her robe is light. Her face cannot be recognized.)
Dr. Thorne (on whose sensitive countenance falls the only light in the scene, shows an unaccountable emotion. He murmurs). It is a woman—alone—exhausted ... and a stranger. As I serve her, so may God send some soul of fire and snow to serve my dear wife—in her hour of mortal need! (He advances towards the woman with a chivalrous sympathy.)
(The Woman moves on steadily; weakens; reels, but holds her ground. It can now be seen that her eyes are closed. She falls. She does not cry out.)
Dr. Thorne. How brave you are! Keep courage. (Catches her before she touches the ground. She lies in his arms in a faint or collapse.)
(Dr. Thorne carries her along midway of the scene.)
(It lightens slowly. As it does so, it can be seen that the woman is young and fair, and fine of nature. Her robe is of dazzling white; it has a surface like that of satin-finished gauze, which reflects all the light there is. Her long, dark hair is disordered, and falls about her. She is pale. Her eyes do not open. She lies helplessly in his arms.)
(Dr. Thorne lays her gently against the trunk of a dead tree, which has fallen across a hollow in the cliff, and which rests so as to support the woman. He seats himself beside her; bends to examine her face.)
Dr. Thorne (recognizes the face of the woman; cries in a voice that rings through the hills). Helen!
The Echo (takes up the cry). Helen!
Helen Thorne (is half-conscious and confused; does not open her eyes; murmurs). Will it last long?
Dr. Thorne (clasps her reverently. As his arms touch her, they can be seen to tremble. He moans). My—poor—wife!
Helen Thorne (still lying with closed eyes; murmurs, but more distinctly). I said I would die two deaths for him.... Are they over, yet?... if that would help him any ... where he had gone. (Opens her eyes, but they see nothing. Dreamily and solemnly, as if repeating a familiar prayer, she speaks softly.) Great God! I will die ten deaths for him ... and count myself a happy woman ... if that will make it any easier for him.
Dr. Thorne (groaning, puts his wife gently from him, as if she were a being too sacred for his touch. Turns his face from her; speaks). I am not fit!... I dare not touch her!
Helen Thorne (praying). Dear Lord! I would die for him ... as Thou didst die for us.... If that could be.... Dear Lord!
Dr. Thorne (utterly broken). I am a sinful man, O God! (Removes from her, and stands with his face in his hands.)
Helen Thorne (recovering full consciousness, and with it sudden strength, lifts herself to a sitting posture; looks about her; half rises. Suddenly she recognizes her husband, where he stands aloof. She cries plaintively). Esmerald?—Isn’t it over yet? Esmerald! Have you forgotten me? Don’t you care for me any more?... (piteously). Oh, Death! I did not think that thou wouldst crucify me ... so!
(Sudden darkness falls. When it passes, the gulf, the dark mountain, the underground river, the ravines are gone. Slow and sweet light returns softly. It is the setting of the sun. The perspective of the Heavenly City and spirits are as before. The grim scenery surrounding the mouth of the River of Death has given place to a fair meadow, sunny and open. Some of the boulders remain, and the path which cut through the ravine now runs across the field. Clumps of trees and thick shrubs break the space between the foreground and the distant spirits, and the path turns a curve through a thicket of roses. Lilies as before grow higher than any other flowers, and nearer to the eye.)
Helen Thorne (stands, tall and glorious. Faint color has returned to her pale face. Her expression is radiant. She looks downward and stretches down her hands; speaks, very softly). Dear!
Dr. Thorne (prostrate at his wife’s feet, speaks). Forgive! Forgive me, Helen.
(Helen Thorne smiles divinely. Stoops to lift him up.)
(Dr. Thorne resists her still, and, fallen at her feet, he draws the hem of her robe slowly to his lips. Then he lays his cheek upon her feet before he reverently kisses them.)
Dr. Thorne. I said ... oh, I have broken my heart for what I said ... to you!
Helen Thorne (reaches down her beautiful arms to him. Draws him up). Why, my poor Love! My dear Love! Did you think I would remember that?
(Dr. Thorne arises. Holds out his shaking arms; does not speak.)
(Helen Thorne in silence creeps to him, not royally, like a wife who was wronged; but like the sweetest woman in the world, who loves him because she cannot help it, and would not if she could. Her face falls upon his breast.)
(Dr. Thorne, as if she were a goddess, still not daring to caress her, lays his cheek upon her soft hair. Before her face, but not touching it, he delicately curves his hand as if he enclosed a sacred flame from the rude air.)
Helen Thorne (lifts her face to his. Her eyes, all womanly, turn to him in Paradise as they did on earth. She speaks softly). I am in Heaven ... after all!
Dr. Thorne. And I have never been there ... until now! (He clasps her slowly to his heart; turns her face back upon his arm and reverently looks at it; scans it adoringly; humbly crying.) Helen! Helen!
(Dr. Thorne kisses his wife’s brow—eyes—cheek—and then her lips. Suddenly, around the curve in the path where the thicket of roses blossoms, running rapidly,)
Enter Laddie (carrying a stalk of the
white lilies. He cries). Papa! Papa!
I’ve lost you, Papa! (The child runs
down the path. Closely following
him, fair and gentle, brightly smiling,)
Enter Mrs. Fayth. (She draws back
quickly; utters an inarticulate exclamation;
extends her hands in an impulsive
gesture of delight. But she
withdraws and puts her finger on her
lips. She retreats without speaking.)
(Mrs. Fayth, hidden for a moment behind the thicket of roses, reappears beyond with the other spirits. The group of spirits stirs upward in the bright scenery.)
(Dr. Thorne and his Wife, having seen or heard nothing, still stand rapt, embracing solemnly.)
Laddie (stops on the path, irresolute. Frowns a little in pretty, childish perplexity; makes as if he would go back; looks at the two again. Then suddenly darts forward; cries). Why, that’s my Mamma! (Springs to her; clutches at her white robe, pulls at her hand.)
Helen Thorne (recognizes the child instantly, despite his larger stature; she cries out). Why, my little boy! Mother’s baby boy! Oh! you again, ... you, too! My little, little boy. (Catches him to her; kisses him wildly; holds him, and releases him, and holds him again. Murmurs half-intelligible words brokenly.) Mother’s baby!... Mother’s beauty!... Oh, mamma missed you, sonny-boy—
(Dr. Thorne does not speak. His face is shining. He holds his wife within his arms as if he feared to lose her if he loosened them.)
(The Child, laughing softly, fondles his mother. The three stand clinging together rapturously.)
Voices (from beyond the rose thicket chant).
“As it was in the beginning, is now,
And ever shall be,
World without end. Amen.”
(Chorus of spirits from the region of the Temple on the Heavenly Hill very softly sing.)
“O Paradise! O Paradise!
The world is growing old.
Who would not see that heavenly land,
Where love is never cold?” ...
(As they sing, the fair country brightens subtly, and all the heavenly scene is radiant. The moving groups of spirits seem to be joining in the song.)
(Dr. Thorne and his Wife, turning, look into one another’s faces. They do not speak.)
(Now, delicately, it shall be seen to darken on the bright land, and a holy half-light touches every outline.)
(The Child leaves his parents. He walks a few steps away, shading his eyes with one hand, as if he saw invisible glory; in the other hand he carries the annunciation lily.)
(Vaguely at first, then more definitely; slowly and solemnly,)
Enter JESUS the CHRIST.
(The Sacred Figure advances towards the Man and Woman, who are unconscious of the approach. Its hands are stretched in benediction. It stands for a moment, mutely, and unseen by them.)
(The Boy runs towards it fearlessly; seats himself upon the meadow-grass at the feet of the Figure.)
(The Sacred Figure stirs towards the child. All the light in the scene now falls from the Figure.)
(The Man, the Woman, and the Child receive its full effulgence.)
Voices from Beyond (sing).
“Where loyal hearts and true
Stand ever in the light,
Enraptured through and through”—
(The Man and the Woman now perceive the Sacred Figure. They fall to their knees. The man’s arm still encircles his wife. They bow their heads before the Divine Presence.)
(The Child, with the lifted lily, remains at the feet of the Christ.)
Voices from Beyond (repeat).
“Enraptured through and through,
In God’s most holy sight.”
(The Sacred Figure dims and slowly fades. With it disappears the stalk of annunciation lilies. The light returns softly upon the celestial scenery.)
(The Sacred Figure vanishes.)
(The Man, the Woman, and Child stay gazing after it.)
(Now a mist breathes upon the Heavenly City and the sunny country. All the outlines of the happy scenery blur and faint.)
(The groups of spirits grow dim.)
(Distant music softly sustains the strains of the song; but without words.)
(And now the golden mist slowly envelops the Man, the Woman, and the Child, who remain for a moment before the eyes—a vision—solemn, tender, and half unreal.)
(The music continues very faintly. The strain slowly ceases.)
(The mist dulls, deepens, and thickens, till it rolls like an impenetrable curtain before the vanished scene.)
End of the Drama.
The Riverside Press
Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.