"Here I am with the mightiest work of the ages on my hands, and the door of opportunity before me, and yet, terrible, terrible thought, I see failure written upon my skies. For my spirit lags; there is no quickening battery at my life's center. Ah! it is awful to be dead alive. That which would quicken my spirit and give me the needed zest to face the work of an Atlas, the bearing of a world upon my shoulders—that influence is far removed from me, farther than those stretches of thousands of miles tell of."
During Ensal's absence of many months his mail had accumulated until now he found himself face to face with a huge pile of unopened letters and newspapers. Lifting his head from his desk, he wearily turned to his mail.
In the pile of letters he came across one from Earl Bluefield which ran as follows:
My Dear Ensal:
There is great need of you in America at this hour, and a golden opportunity for winning an enduring place in the history of the world awaits you.
The repressionists of the South made their policy an issue in the presidential campaign which has just come to a close, and they have been most badly beaten.
As you know, statesmanship is a great passion with the South and she is not going to remain contented in the position of impotent isolation to which her repressionist element has consigned her. A new order of leaders will now be put forward as the spokesmen of the South and the fairness of their words is going to be seized upon by the nation as offering hope for a new order of things.
Since the liberal element among the whites of the South are to be given a day in court, there is great need of that type of Negroes that has standing with them. I, as you know, am persona non grata. I have added to my unpopularity by the manner in which I lambasted the repressionist element in the campaign just closed.
Come to America and help the nation to reap the fruits of its victory over repression.
Apart from my interest in the Negro race, which you of course have never doubted, I have grave personal interests at stake, and know not what I shall do if you fail the nation in this hour of its need. A sorrow as great as the world has ever known hangs over me and over the Negro race. Come and lift it.
Earl Bluefield.
"No, I cannot go. I cannot be that near to Tiara. Heaven knows that I would be driven mad to see, to be near that girl, and be conscious that her love lies buried with another. No, I cannot go. America may need me, but so does Africa, so does Africa." Such were Ensal's thoughts upon the reading of Earl's letter.
Now all of you who believe in altruism; who believe in the giving of one's self for others; who believe in fixedness of purpose; who have in any wise pinned your faith to that man Ensal—let all such prepare yourselves for evidence of the utter frailty of man. Bear in mind that Ensal claims to seek the highest good of his race, that he has chosen Africa as the field for the greatest service, and that he has just rejected a proposition to return to America from an ultra-radical, who of all men has come to regard him as the man of the hour.
Picking up a package of newspapers, he tore the wrappers off and noticed that they were Almaville papers.
"I have seen that face before," said he, looking at the likeness of Eunice Seabright Volrees-Bluefield reproduced in one of the papers.
He now turned to the reading matter, taking note of a column that had blue marks calling attention thereto. This was an account of Eunice's trial and contained in full the words of Tiara in court on that occasion.
"O my God!" exclaimed Ensal when he came to that part of Tiara's testimony which disclosed the fact that the Rev. Percy G. Marshall was her brother. Now observe him, you who have faith in man.