He looked earnestly in my face—then laid his hands on my head in a mute blessing, and signed to me to pass into my turret room. I obeyed. He closed the door upon me instantly—I heard the key turn in the lock—and then—just the faint echo of his retreating footsteps down the winding stair. My room was illumined by a very faint light, the source of which I knew not. Everything was as I had left it before I had been summoned to the mysterious Chapel of the Cross and Star,—and I looked about me, tranquillised by the peace and simplicity of my surroundings. I did not feel disposed to sleep, and I resolved to write down from memory all that Aselzion had told me while it was fresh in my mind. The white veil I had been given still clung about me,—I now took it off and carefully folded it ready for further use if needed. Sitting down at the little table, I took out pen, ink and paper,—but somehow I could not fix my attention on what I intended to do. The silence around me was more intense than ever, and though my window was open I could not even hear the murmur of the sea. I listened—hardly drawing breath—there was not a sound. The extraordinary silence deepened—and with it came a sense of cold; I seemed to be removed into a place apart, where no human touch, no human voice could reach me,—and I felt as I had never felt in all my life before, that I was indeed utterly alone.
XVI
SHADOW AND SOUND
The stillness deepened. It seemed to myself that I could hear the quickened beating of every pulse in my body. A curious vague terror began to possess me,—I fought against its insidious influence, and bending my head down over the paper I had set out before me, I prepared to write. After a few minutes I managed to gain some control over my nerves, and started to put down clearly and in sequence the things Aselzion had told me, though I knew there was little danger of my ever forgetting them. And then—a sudden sensation came over me which forced me to realise that something or someone was in the room, looking steadfastly at me.
With an effort, I raised my head, and saw nothing at first—then, by degrees, I became aware that a Shadow, dark and impenetrable, stood between me and the open window. At first it seemed simply a formless mass of black vapour,—but very gradually it assumed the outline of a Shape which did not seem human. I laid down my pen,—and, with my heart thumping hammer-strokes of fear, looked at this strange Darkness gathered as it were in one place and blocking out the silver gleam of the moon. As I looked, all the light in my room was suddenly extinguished. A cry rose involuntarily to my lips—and physical fright began to gain the mastery over me. For with the increasing gloom the mysterious Shadow grew more and more defined—a blackness standing out as it were against another blackness,—the pale glint of the moonbeams only illumining it faintly as a cloud may be edged with a suggestion of light. It was not motionless,—it stirred now and then as though about to lift itself to some supernatural stature and bend above me or swoop down upon me like an embodied storm,—and as I still gazed upon it fearingly, every nerve strained to an almost unsupportable tension, I could have sworn that two eyes, large and luminous, were fixed with a searching, pitiless intensity on mine. It is impossible to describe what I felt,—a sense of sick, swooning horror overcame me,—my head swam giddily, and I could not now utter a sound.
Trembling violently, I rose to my feet in a kind of mechanical impulse, determined to turn away from the dreadful contemplation of this formless Phantom, when suddenly, as if by a lightning flash of conviction, the thought came to me that it was not by coward avoidance that I could expect to overcome either my own fears or the nameless danger which apparently threatened me. I closed my eyes and retreated, as it were, within myself to find that centre-poise of my own spirit which I knew must remain an invincible force despite all attack, being in itself immortal,—and I mentally barricaded my soul with thoughts of armed resistance. Then, opening my eyes again, I saw that the Shadow loomed blacker and vaster—while the luminance around it was more defined, and was not the radiance of the moon, but some other light that was ghostly and terrifying. But I had now regained a little courage,—and slight as it was I held to it as my last hope, and gradually steadied myself upon it like a drowning creature clinging to a plank for rescue. Presently I found myself able to ask questions of my inner consciousness. What, after all, could this Phantom—if Phantom it were—do to work me harm? Could it kill me with sheer terror? Surely in that case the terror would be my own fault, for why should I be afraid? The thing called Death being no more than a Living Change did it matter so much when or how the change was effected?
"Who is responsible,"—I said to myself—"for the sense of fear? Who is it that so mistrusts the Divine order of the Universe as to doubt the ultimate intention of goodness in things which appear evil? Is it not I alone who am the instigator of my own dread?—and can this dark, dumb Spectre do more to me than is ordained for my blessing in the end?"
With these thoughts I grew bold—my nervous trembling ceased. I now chose deliberately to consider, and WILLED to determine, that this mysterious Shadow, darker still as it grew, was something of a friend in disguise. I lifted my head half defiantly, half hopefully in the gloom, and the strange fact that the only light I saw came from the weirdly gleaming edge of radiance round the Phantom itself did not frighten me from the attitude I had resolved upon. The more I settled myself into that attitude the firmer it became—and the stronger grew my courage. I gently moved aside the table on which I had been writing, and stood up. Once on my feet I felt still bolder and surer of myself, and though the Shadow opposite to me looked darker and more threatening than before, I began to move steadily towards it. I made an effort to speak to it, and at last found my voice.
"Whatever you are," I said aloud, "you cannot exist at all without God's will! God ordains nothing that is not for good, therefore you cannot be here with any evil purpose! If I am afraid of you, my fear is my own weakness. I will not look at you as a thing that can or would do me harm, and therefore I am coming to you to find out your meaning! You shall prove to me what you are made of, to the very depth and heart of your darkness!—you shall unveil to me all that you hide behind your terrifying aspect,—because I KNOW that whatever your intention towards me may be, you cannot hurt my Soul!"
As I spoke I drew nearer and nearer—and the luminous edge round the Phantom grew lighter and lighter, till—suddenly a flash of brilliant colour like a rainbow glittered full on my eyes so sharply that I fell back, half blinded by its splendour. Then—as I looked—I dropped to my knees in speechless awe—for the Shadow had changed to a dazzling Shape of winged radiance,—a figure and face so glorious that I could only gaze and gaze, with all my soul entranced in wonder! I heard delicious music around me, but I could not listen—all my soul was in my eyes. The Vision grew in stature and in splendour, and I stretched out my hands to it in prayerful appeal, conscious that I was in the shining Presence of some inhabitant of higher and more heavenly spheres than ours. The beautiful head, crowned with a diadem of flowers like white stars, bent towards me—the luminous eyes smiled into mine, and a voice sweeter than all sweet singing spoke to me in accents of thrilling tenderness.