“What have you done?” he said. “Everything. You have come from that planet home of yours and have stolen into our land in the night; but we have received you as guests and have treated you as we would those who come from afar and sought our hospitality.
“Myself and my people have done all in our power to make your sojourn in our world a happy one. From that world of yours, far above, in one of those shining stars which twinkles and throws its soft light on us on the clear beautiful nights, we believe that your people have for ages looked down on us, and have learned our life, our customs and our secrets. This we have learned to believe since you have come among us, for before that time we knew nothing of another people. And you come to us with the chain of the high priest about your neck, and this is proof that you know the great secrets of the high priests and those of the Day of Resis. For this reason we have looked for you to respect our laws and customs. To all but me you seem to have done this. I have just begun to believe that you, and may be your people, have no respect for the sacred laws that govern me, the King of On. To-night has been a revelation to me. Never before, during my life, has there come such a storm at this season. I looked at the dark heavens and saw the black clouds hurried on by the mad winds, almost sweeping the earth, and I could see in it only a warning. Then it flashed over my bewildered brain that the warning was meant for me. I had sinned. But why had I sinned? Because tempted by you who knew our laws, and knew the fearful punishment which would be the King’s who would dare disobey these laws. You who cared naught for all these, but still threw out your alluring temptations, your subtle fascinations, in order to entrap me. But God has spoken in this storm and I am saved. Listen to His voice,” and as he ceased speaking a fearful peal of thunder broke through the air as if in answer to him.
Enola stood aghast during this accusation, unable to account for this fearful change in Onrai’s conduct toward her, until he had mentioned the storm, and then she realized that it was this unusual phenomenon which had wakened in his mind the sin he was committing in loving her; she must let him know that these fascinations were only those which God had given her, and that the seeming allurements were but the graceful acknowledgments of his many courtesies. But how to tell him, how to convince him! He still stood like a statue, like an accusing Apollo who had but little mercy for one who had caused him even a moment’s pain. To suffer for even an instant was such a new sensation to the man, and it was so acute withal, that for the time he could find no forgiveness for the one who had caused it, and he stood contemplating Enola, for the moment a savage, glaring at the one who had caused him a moment’s pain, and whom he had in his power to torture as he saw fit.
He forgot his love for her for the moment; he only remembered that she had hurt him, and when the first great fear of the discovery was over, he grew hard and cold and wanted revenge. Enola saw that she had blind superstition to deal with, superstition whose birth was in sin, and she knew that it would be hard to convince Onrai of her innocence. But this she must do; so taking a step timidly toward him, she raised her hand as if she would touch his arm, but when he saw this movement he involuntarily drew his arm away as if afraid that her touch would contaminate him. The movement hurt her more than all his harsh words had done, and she partially turned as if to walk away, but remembering the fearful consequences that might ensue unless Onrai’s mind should be disabused of this fearful mistake which he had made, she turned again, and placing her hands behind her, walked up to him and looking him straight in the eye, said:
“Onrai, look at me. Do you see any guilt or flinching in my eye? Do you think that I, who have the same faith in the same God that you have, could look at you now if I were guilty, and too, when this fearful storm is raging, which you call the voice and anger of God? No, Onrai; you and your people have a mistaken idea when you think we knew your life, customs and laws before we came to your world. We did not even know that your people existed; but we knew that there was a world here and we determined to visit it, and learn whether it was inhabited or not. So we came and found this glorious land and this beautiful, justice-loving people. And never until to-night have I learned to think that they had any but the grandest minds, with the most charitable thoughts for those who had been thrown in with them for awhile. I understand your laws but imperfectly, and I do not understand why you should treat me thus, or accuse me of wishing to make you sin or suffer because of an unusual phenomenon. Search your mind, Onrai, and see if it was not yourself who sinned willingly and not because I have tempted you; ask yourself if in any way I have been less modest than your native women; whether I have sought you, or you me; whether I have not avoided you rather than sought you. Ask yourself these questions, and then accuse me if you can.” And as Enola finished speaking, she drew herself up nobly and started to walk toward the entrance. She had nearly reached this when Onrai stepped forward and almost in a whisper, said:
“Enola, wait; wait; let me think; let me think; my brain is whirling; I cannot see all clearly yet; but it is growing brighter. Oh, Enola, forgive, forgive me. I cannot now tell you the great sin which I thought was your making, but which I can now see was all my own. The laws of the Land of On are stringent on this point, and if I should give up to the temptation I would be killed. To be killed for sinning means not only the death of the body, but the everlasting torture of the soul. It is a fearful thing for any of us to sin, but how much more so is it for the King, the chosen one, who is the people’s choice not because he is the greatest physically, but the purest of mind, if there can be one purer than the others. But I have sinned unwittingly, and it is because of this that I was so ready to accuse you. But I look at you now and see in that clear, unflinching eye, that smooth brow and erect body, no guilt. You are innocent, Enola; innocent and I ask forgiveness. It seems strange that I should use the word to one on earth, for it belongs to God, and is never used among us. But I have wronged you fearfully and I know not how else to make amends. Forgive me, Enola,” and as he finished, he took her hand and raised it to his lips.
Enola was crying, for the pleading words of this strong man, this King, touched her strangely.
“But tell me, Onrai, of this strange sin, that I may know,” she said.
“No,” Onrai answered, “it would be a greater sin to tell it to you. But listen; what is that fearful rumbling sound?”