He uttered a low exclamation of thankfulness, the while he wondered amazedly how it was that they, that far-removed Brotherhood, “knew all”! It was very strange! He thought of the wondrous man whom he called the “Master,” and who was understood to be “wise with the wisdom of the angels,” and remembered that he was accredited with being able to acquire information when he chose, by swift and supernatural means. That he had done so in the present case seemed evident, and Féraz stood still with the telegram in his hand, stricken by a vague sense of awe as well as gratitude, thinking also of the glittering vision he had had of that “glory of the angels in the south”;—angels who were waiting for Lilith the night she disappeared.
El-Râmi suddenly opened his weary eyes and looked at him.
“What is it?” he asked faintly—“Why has the music ceased?”
Féraz went up to his chair and knelt down beside it.
“You shall hear it again”—he said gently, “But you must sleep now, and get strong,—because we are soon going away on a journey—a far, beautiful journey——”
“To Heaven?” inquired El-Râmi—“Yes, I know—it is very far.”
Féraz sighed.
“No—not to Heaven,”—he answered—“Not yet. We shall find out the way there, afterwards. But in the meantime, we are going to a place where there are fruits and flowers,—and where the sun is very bright and warm. You will come with me, will you not, El-Râmi?—there are friends there who will be glad to see you.”
“I have no friends,”—said El-Râmi plaintively, “unless you are one. I do not know if you are,—I hope so, but I am not sure. You have an angel’s face,—and the angels have not always been kind to me. But I will go with you wherever you wish,—is it a place in this world, or in some other star?”
“In this world,”—replied Féraz—“A quiet little corner of this world.”