The voices ceased—the strange flitting figures that wailed round me faded away into mist, and disappeared—and a light, deep and golden and wonderful, began to shine through the gloom. My companion spoke.
"We have been looking at dreams,"—she said—"You ask for the only
Real!"
I smiled. A sudden inrush of strength and authority possessed me.
"You bade me look my last upon my dream of Love!" I said—"But you knew that was impossible, for Love is no dream!"
The golden radiance widened into a perfect splendour, and our boat now glided over a shining sea. As in a vision I saw the figure that steered and guided it, change from darkness to brightness—the black fold fell from its face—Angel eyes looked at me—Angel lips smiled!—and then—I found myself suddenly alone on the shore of a little bay, blue as a sapphire in the reflection of the blue sky above it. The black stretch of water which had seemed so dreary and impassable had disappeared, and to my astonishment I recognised the very shore near the rock garden which was immediately under my turret room. I looked everywhere for the woman who had been in the boat with me—for the boat itself and its guide—but there was no trace of them. Where and how far I had wandered I could not imagine—but presently, regaining nerve and courage, I began to fancy that perhaps my strange experience had been preordained and planned as some test of my faith and fortitude. Had I failed? Surely not! For I had not doubted the truth of God or the power of Love! There was only one thing which puzzled me,—the memory of those voices behind a wall—the voices which had spoken of Rafel's death and treachery. I could not quite rid myself of the anxiety they had awakened in my mind though I tried hard not to yield to the temptation of fear and suspicion. I knew and felt that after all it is the voices of the world which work most harm to love—and that neither poverty nor sorrow can cut the threads of affection between lovers so swiftly as falsehood and calumny. And yet I allowed myself to be moved by vague uneasiness on this account, and could not entirely regain perfect composure.
The door of the winding stair leading to my room in the turret stood open—and I availed myself of this tacit permission to return thither. I found everything as I had left it, except that when I sought for the mysterious little room hung with purple silk, where I had begun to read the book called 'The Secret of Life,' a book which through all my strange adventure I still had managed to keep with me, I could not find it. The walls around me were solid; there was no sign of an opening anywhere.
I sat down by the window to think. There before my eyes was the sea, calm, and in the full radiance of a brilliant sun. No mysterious or magic art suggested itself in the visible scene of a smiling summer day. Had I been long absent from this room, I wondered? I could not tell. Time seemed to be annihilated. And so far as I myself was concerned I desired nothing in this world or the next save just to know if Rafel Santoris still lived—and—yes!—one other assurance—to feel that I still possessed the treasure of his love. All the past, present and future hung on this possibility,—there was nothing more to hope for or to attain. For if I had lost Love, then God Himself could give me no comfort, since the essential link with Divine things was broken.
Gradually a great and soothing quietude stole over me and the cloud of depression that had hung over my mind began to clear. I thought of my recent experience with the man and woman who had sought to 'rescue' me, as they said, and how when in sheer desperation I had called "Rafel! Rafel!" they had suddenly disappeared and left me free. Surely this was a sufficient proof that I was not forgotten by him who had professed to love me?—and that his aid might still be depended upon? Why should I doubt him?
I had placed my book, 'The Secret of Life,' on the table when I re-entered my room—but now I took it up again, and the pages fell open at the following passage:—
"When once you possess the inestimable treasure of love, remember that every effort will be made to snatch it from you. There is nothing the world envies so much as a happy soul! Those who have been your dearest friends will turn against you because you have a joy in which they do not share,—they will unite with your foes to drag you down from your height of Paradise. The powers of the coarse and commonplace will be arrayed against you—shafts of disdain and ridicule will be hurled at your tenderest feelings,—venomous lies and cruel calumnies will be circulated around you,—all to try and draw you from the circle of light into darkness and chaos. If you would stand firm, you must stand within the whirlwind; if you would maintain the centre-poise of your Soul, you must preserve the balance of movement,—the radiant and deathless atoms whereof your Body and Spirit are composed must be under steady control and complete organisation like a well disciplined army, otherwise the disintegrating forces set up by the malign influences of others around you will not only attack your happiness, but your health, break down your strength and murder your peace. Love is the only glory of Life,—the Heart and Pulse of all things,—a possession denied to earth's greatest conquerors—a talisman which opens all the secrets of Nature—a Divinity whose power is limitless, and whose benediction bestows all beauty, all sweetness, all joy! Bear this in mind, and never forget how such a gift is grudged to those who have it by those who have it not!"