Alwyn's expression as he heard this was one of stupefied amazement. Part of his so-called "dream" had already proved itself true—a "field of Ardath" actually existed!
"You are certain of what you say?" he demanded.
"Positively certain!" returned Heliobas.
There was a silence, during which a little tinkling bell resounded in the outer corridor, followed by the tread of sandaled feet on the stone pavement. Heliobas closed the Bible and returned it to its shelf.
"That was the dinner-bell," he announced cheerfully. "Will you accompany me to the refectory, Mr. Alwyn? … we can talk further of this matter afterwards." Alwyn roused himself from the fit of abstraction into which he had fallen, and gathering together the loose sheets of his so strangely written manuscript, he arranged them all in an orderly heap without speaking. Then he looked up and met the earnest eyes of Heliobas with an expression of settled resolve in his own.
"I shall set out for Babylon to-morrow," he said quietly. "As well go there as anywhere! … and on the result of my journey I shall stake my future! In the mean time—" He hesitated, then suddenly extending his hand with a frank grace that became him well, "In spite of my brusquerie last night, I trust we are friends?"
"Why, most assuredly we are!" returned Heliobas, heartily pressing the proffered palm. "You had your doubts of me and you have them still; but what of that! I take no offence at unbelief. I pity those who suffer from its destroying influence too profoundly to find room in my heart for anger. Moreover, I never try to convert anybody…. it is so much more satisfactory when sceptics convert themselves, as you are unconsciously doing! Come, … shall we join the brethren?"
Over Alwyn's face flitted a transient shade of uneasiness and hauteur.
"I would rather they knew nothing about all this," he began.
"Make your mind quite easy on that score," rejoined Heliobas. "None of my companions here are aware of your recent departure, except my very old personal friend Hilarion, who, with myself, saw your body while in its state of temporary death. But he is one of those remarkably rare wise men who know when it is best to be silent; then again, he is ignorant as to the results of your soul-transmigration, and will, as far as I am concerned, remain in ignorance. Your confidence I assure you is perfectly safe with me—as safe as though it had been received under the sacred seal of confession."