“Pyrrha, I saw our harbor lying waste, as though many waters had rushed upon it. Naught was left. Houses, vessels, landings—all were gone. In a flash it passed before me. But, ah how plain! Pyrrha, our harbor is a ruin. The floods have swept it!”
She was stricken with fear. “Deucalion, never hath that strange inner sight failed thee. What thou didst behold in that moment, is!”
“Pyrrha, I was not thinking of home. I was dwelling upon our life on this vessel—when it came upon me.”
“It is a strange, a dread power. Thinkest thou it cometh of some fine, airy force of the spirit?”
“It may. But what is that force?”
She mused a little to brighten and say confidently, “Could it be that—that—for the moment—thy spirit leaveth its shell—and, as in a flash—traveleth far—and back? That, in this, is thine inner sight?”
He was surprised. “Pyrrha, thou mayest have it. I have wondered much if the sight of my body dulled before the sight of the spirit. It is in my mind that the cares of the body hamper the spirit; but, if such cares become as naught, the spirit hath full power, and then are the inner sight and hearing opened. Again, I have questioned whether this strange sight cometh not of some hidden force of matter. Ah, it doth confound me!—For, all things are as air before it. They stand not in the way, however far the seeing.
“Yea—yea—either the spirit flasheth out and back, or the sight of the body giveth way to this second sight, this seeing of the spirit. When at war, how often did I see thee. When our children were in Atlantis, how often were they before me. And, when I was in Atlantis, how often I saw thee, until a little ere I left. Then did this inner sight fail me. Thus became I worried over thee—to fall into doubt. Why could I not see thee then? Nor afterward?”
“Thy spirit was so torn with the evils about thee, the dangers besetting the children, the risk in setting them free, that it could not become calm enough to see.”
“That is it. Though, through all was I sure that I would master. Yet, the dread.”