I shuddered involuntarily;—dimly I began to realize the awful nature of this unearthly interview.

“You, Geoffrey Tempest, are a man in whom a Thought of God was once implanted,—that subtle fire or note of music out of heaven called Genius. So great a gift is rarely bestowed on any mortal,—and woe betide him, who having received it, holds it as of mere personal value, to be used for [p 463] Self and not for God! Divine laws moved you gently in the right path of study,—the path of suffering, of disappointment, of self-denial and poverty,—for only by these things is humanity made noble and trained in the ways of perfection. Through pain and enduring labour the soul is armed for battle, and strengthened for conquest. For it is more difficult to bear a victory well, than to endure many buffetings of war! But you,—you resented Heaven’s good-will towards you,—the Valley of Humiliation suited you not at all. Poverty maddened you,—starvation sickened you. Yet poverty is better than arrogant wealth,—and starvation is healthier than self-indulgence! You could not wait,—your own troubles seemed to you enormous,—your own efforts laudable and marvellous,—the troubles and efforts of others were nothing to you;—you were ready to curse God and die. Compassionating yourself, admiring yourself and none other, with a heart full of bitterness, and a mouth full of cursing, you were eager to make quick havoc of both your genius and your soul. For this cause, your millions of money came——and,—so did I!”

Standing now full height he confronted me,—his eyes were less brilliant, but, they reflected in their dark splendour a passionate scorn and sorrow.

“O fool!—in my very coming I warned you!—on the very day we met I told you I was not what I seemed! God’s elements crashed a menace when we made our compact of friendship! And I,—when I saw the faint last struggle of the not quite torpid soul in you to resist and distrust me, did I not urge you to let that better instinct have its way? You,—jester with the Supernatural!—you,—base scoffer at Christ! A thousand hints have been given you,—a thousand chances of doing such good as must have forced me to leave you,—as would have brought me a welcome respite from sorrow,—a moment’s cessation of torture!”

His brows contracted in a sombre frown,—he was silent a moment,—then he resumed—

“Now learn from me the weaving of the web you so willingly became entangled in! Your millions of money were [p 464] Mine!—the man that left you heir to them, was a wretched miser, evil to the soul’s core! By virtue of his own deeds he and his dross were Mine! and maddened by the sheer accumulation of world’s wealth, he slew himself in a fit of frenzy. He lives again in a new and much more realistic phase of existence, and knows the actual value of mankind’s cash-payments! This you have yet to learn!”

He advanced a step or two, fixing his eyes more steadily upon me.

“Wealth is like Genius,—bestowed not for personal gratification, but for the benefit of those who lack it. What have you done for your fellow-men? The very book you wrote and launched upon the tide of bribery and corruption was published with the intention to secure applause for Yourself, not to give help or comfort to others. Your marriage was prompted by Lust and Ambition, and in the fair Sensuality you wedded, you got your deserts! No love was in the union,—it was sanctified by the blessing of Fashion, but not the blessing of God. You have done without God; so you think! Every act of your existence has been for the pleasure and advancement of Yourself,—and this is why I have chosen you out to hear and see what few mortals ever hear or see till they have passed the dividing-line between this life and the next. I have chosen you because you are a type of the apparently respected and unblamable man;—you are not what the world calls a criminal,—you have murdered no-one,—you have stolen no neighbour’s goods—, your unchastities and adulteries are those of every ‘fashionable’ vice-monger,—and your blasphemies against the Divine are no worse than those of the most approved modern magazine-contributors. You are guilty nevertheless of the chief crime of the age—Sensual Egotism—the blackest sin known to either angels or devils, because hopeless. The murderer may repent, and save a hundred lives to make up for the one he snatched,—the thief may atone with honest labour,—the adulterer may scourge his flesh and do grim penance for late pardon,—the blasphemer may retrieve his [p 465] blasphemies,—but for the Egoist there is no chance of wholesome penitence, since to himself he is perfect, and counts his Creator as somewhat inferior. This present time of the world breathes Egotism,—the taint of Self, the hideous worship of money, corrodes all life, all thought, all feeling. For vulgar cash, the fairest and noblest scenes of Nature are wantonly destroyed without public protest,[5]—the earth, created in beauty, is made hideous,—parents and children, wives and husbands are ready to slay each other for a little gold,—Heaven is barred out,—God is denied,—and Destruction darkens over this planet, known to all angels as the Sorrowful Star! Be no longer blind, millionaire whose millions have ministered to Self without relieving sorrow!——for when the world is totally corrupt,—when Self is dominant,—when cunning supersedes honesty,—when gold is man’s chief ambition,—when purity is condemned,—when poets teach lewdness, and scientists blasphemy,—when love is mocked, and God forgotten,—the End is near! I take My part in that end!—for the souls of mankind are not done with when they leave their fleshly tenements! When this planet is destroyed as a bubble broken in the air, the souls of men and women live on,—as the soul of the woman you loved lives on,—as the soul of the mother who bore her, lives on,—aye!—as all My worshippers live on through a myriad worlds, a myriad phases, till they learn to shape their destinies for Heaven! And I, with them live on, in many shapes, in many ways!—when they return to God cleansed and perfect, so shall I return!—but not till then!”

He paused again,—and I heard a faint sighing sound everywhere as of wailing voices, and the name “Ahrimanes!” was breathed suddenly upon the silence. I started up listening, every nerve strained——Ahrimanes?—or Rimânez? I gazed fearfully at him, ... always beautiful, his countenance was now sublime, ... and his eyes shone with a lustrous flame.

[p 466]
“You thought me friend!” he said—“You should have known me Foe! For everyone who flatters a man for his virtues, or humours him in his vices is that man’s worst enemy, whether demon or angel! But you judged me a fitting comrade,—hence I was bound to serve you,—I and my followers with me. You had no perception to realize this,—you, supreme scorner of the Supernatural! Little did you think of the terrifying agencies that worked the wonders of your betrothal feast at Willowsmere! Little did you dream that fiends prepared the costly banquet and poured out the luscious wine!”