Greatly encouraged by his discovery, Jack proceeded to put it to the trial.
Without having intelligently traced his course, he had been brought to the suite of rooms which Miriam occupied. They appeared to him in shadowy form, much like the reflection of objects seen in a plate of glass, and not so distant as in a mirror. But as he grew more accustomed to the situation, the distinctness increased.
He was at first puzzled by the similarity of the rooms to those seen on his own earth; and he wondered for a moment whether Miriam could have returned to their planet during the interval of their separation. But a more concentrated scrutiny soon revealed the magical character of the appearance. Whether the magic were black or white he did not pause to determine. Here, at all events, was a laboratory, and he recognized it as the one which he had already seen in Lamara’s water-mirror. It was perhaps because of the intense emotional stress which Miriam had undergone here that he had been first led to it. But she was not here now. He glanced at the apparatus on the table and comprehended the method of its operation. He could even discern the electrons in the atom in their revolution around one another, and form an estimate of the stupendous force which would be liberated by their dissociation. But matters more urgent claimed his attention.
He passed through the doorway into the adjoining chamber; the door had been left ajar, and he was careful to go through the opening, which was somewhat narrow for his bulk, and to keep his feet to the level of the floor. He felt that he could not push the door farther open, and he did not know that he could have passed through the substance of it; it seemed to him proper to observe, so far as possible, the natural limitations amid which he found himself. It aided his recognition of them.
Upon entering the chamber he saw Miriam, with two others, standing near the window. He paid no heed to the others, nor did he see them with nearly the distinctness with which the woman he loved appeared to him. Was it her, or her spirit, that he saw? At moments it seemed to be the one, then the other. From one standpoint, indeed, they were identical. Yet there was a difference; but it was she!
A powerful irradiation of joy streamed forth from him. It was both visible and invisible to Jack himself. As a spiritual emanation, it welled out toward her and enveloped her, so that he fancied she must be aware of it—the roseate glory of it, shot through with golden quiverings. Then, remembering that the natural eye could not discern it, he was surprised to see her move slightly, as if some faint sound or remembered scent had caught her attention. But in a moment she again turned her gaze out of the window.
He approached the group. What—Jim! Undoubtedly it was Jim, but something in the presentation perplexed him—two quite distinguishable Jims, though the same; but one was the grotesque little urchin he knew, the other—he had known nothing of this wonderful brightness, as if the boy were full of light; and surely there were two complete and well-formed legs! That crutch, too; was it a crutch—or was it—what was it? Jim was speaking; it was the familiar street-gamin lingo; but within it, or above it, was another language, which Jack understood with his spiritual hearing, which conveyed beautiful things—affection, loyalty, courage, resource—qualities which the terrestrial Jim would stare even to hear mentioned. Yet they belonged to him as much as did his own patter—far more so, indeed.
The young woman who made the third of the group was manifested but dimly, for Jack had never made Jenny’s acquaintance, and perceived no more than an agreeable something of feminine purport. In truth, it had been with the side-glance only of his mind that he had observed these persons; it was Miriam who filled and overflowed the central scope of his vision. How beautiful and adorable she was! He had loved and adored her previously to the poor extent of his mortal compass; but now he saw loveliness and splendor—an harmonious interfusing of soul and flesh—an illumination of the transient with the deathless—such as made him blush with a kind of divine embarrassment, as if he had no right to such a revelation. Was it possible that a creature so transcendent loved him?
“Miriam, Miriam!” he muttered.
Ah! She had heard him! What a start she gave; and as she turned, the marvelous glory of her aura flashed out and mingled with him. He felt the beating of her heart as if it were his own, and her nerves thrilling in rime with his. She was about to utter his name, but something prompted him to make a gesture of silence. This was not the moment to make known their secret. Gazing at her, he saw the misgiving of his death shudder through her, and spontaneously there surged from him a response so tumultuous with inexhaustible life that she was at once reassured. She did not yet understand, but she knew!