“Have you considered whether your wish is a wise—a final one? That, were it granted, you must remain here for good? Never to return to your own people?”
“Why, never?” Leonard asked. “In the future—one day, perhaps——”
Monella shook his head.
“You must clearly understand,” he said, “that that cannot be. I have told you all along that I never expected to return from my journey here; and now I know that I shall never leave this place. And you and your friend—you will have ere long to decide either to stay here for good, or leave for good. If you elect to go, the king will send you away rich—so rich that you will no more need to strive for wealth; if to stay, he will give you posts of honour where you can profitably employ yourselves in helping me in the great task I have set myself—the teaching of the true religion of the one great God to these my people; for”—he continued, when Leonard looked up at him in surprise—“it is true that I am one of this nation by descent, and that I have, therefore, ‘after many days,’ only wandered back to mine own people. But I have seen too much of the world outside to love it; my people desire to keep to themselves, and I can only, from what I have seen and experienced, confirm them in that wish. I cannot find it in my conscience to do otherwise. Therefore, we are resolved that there shall be no intercourse between us and the great world beyond. It is useless to say more upon the subject; it is settled beyond all reach of argument or discussion. Hence, it will be necessary for both you and your friend to decide whether to remain and cast in your lot with us for your whole future lives, or to say farewell and return—but not empty-handed—to your own people. It is a serious and weighty matter for you to decide; therefore should not be settled hastily. Nor is there any need for haste; take as long as you please to think it over. Wait awhile, till you have seen more of the place, and have come to know the people better. Or wait until”—here the speaker’s voice became impressive well-nigh to sternness—“until I shall have stamped out this serpent brood that hath too long held this fair land in its loathsome coils. Then shall ye see a new era here—an era of peace, and cheerfulness, and godliness—and ye shall see that it is good to dwell in such a country.”
“I do not believe that any amount of reflection can alter my wishes in this matter,” Leonard answered earnestly. “Painful as the thought of never seeing my friends again would be, yet it would be still harder to leave here and never look again on her my heart has chosen for its queen—aye, for years before I saw her. No! Now that fate has led me to her, nothing in this world shall part us—if the decision rests with me.”
Monella regarded the young man fixedly, and there were both affection and admiration in his glance. Very handsome Leonard looked, with the light in his open honest eyes, and the flush upon his cheek. Then Monella’s look waxed overcast as from a passing shadow, and he made answer, with a sigh,
“Youth, with its hopes and aspirations, when they come from honest promptings, is always fair to look upon; more’s the pity that these aspirations all lead to but one end—sorrow, and disappointment, and weariness. Verily, all is vanity, vanity! We travel by different roads, but we all arrive at the same goal.” He looked dreamily away across the landscape to the far distant horizon; then continued, as though talking to himself: “Yet youth pleases, because it desires to live in love—and love is God and Heaven in one. It is the principal of the only two things—it and memory—we carry with us in our passage from this life to the next. Love and memory are two great indestructible attributes of the human soul. True, we take with us our ‘character,’ as it may be called, but that counts little, unless it be founded upon love. And memory is the ever-living witness showing forth whether our life here has been influenced mainly by selfishness, or ambition, or hate, or cruelty, or—love. For only the love shall live and flourish again; all the rest shall wither and die. Ye hear of ‘undying hate,’ but there is no such thing. All hates, even, die out at last; love only lives for ever and can never die.”
He paused, and remained for a space gazing into the distance. Finally, he turned again to Leonard.
“Come with me, and find your friend; I have that to show you that I wish you seriously to consider.”
They walked together down the hill. Meanwhile he continued,