She lifted her face. It was radiant with a strange mysterious joy. “At last,” she said, brokenly—“at last I shall know. Every page of my life will be clear. Heart to heart, soul to soul, so we shall stand, oh, beloved! You and I, with senses purified, with no secret unshared, with spirits unfettered and souls at rest, so shall we greet our bridal morn. For this did I brave the ordeal, for this have I faced almost the bitterness of death—but the trial is almost over—the goal is almost reached. Go, now, my life’s beloved, lest indeed my heart should break beneath its weight of joy! Go; but fear not. I am yours for ever in the life we know, and in the deep Unknown beyond I shall claim you still!”
Chapter Fourteen.
The Dream Interpreted.
For some days no one in the hotel saw the Princess Zairoff. But her influence seemed to have left a distinct impression, judging from the run on Buddhist literature at the different circulating libraries of the town. The “Occult World,” “Isis Unveiled,” and “Esoteric Buddhism” were in great demand; so were various works on Mesmerism, Clairvoyance, and Occult Science.
The poet plunged into “Zanoni,” which he had read in the days of his boyhood as one reads a fairy-tale, and he and Mrs Ray Jefferson, being the greatest enthusiasts, held long and learned and quite unintelligible discussions over these mysterious subjects, with a view to being able to hold their own with the beautiful proselytiser when she should deign to come amongst them all once more.
The weather had changed, and kept the invalids indoors, so there was plenty of time for “serious reading,” as Mrs Jefferson called it.
They took to calling the Princess “the Eastern mystery,” and were quite certain that she must be gifted with abnormal powers. Mrs Jefferson related the story of her appearance in the doorway, her belief in it having long since been substantiated by Colonel Estcourt’s reluctant admission that the Princess was certainly attired in a white silk gown, bordered and trimmed with white fur, when he went up to her rooms that evening.
Mrs Masterman alone held out, and scoffed audibly at the mystic literature, and what she called the “insane jabber” that went on in the drawing-room every evening.