Having left this dangling from the same thread, he went out for a
walk; and thinking it possible that he might meet Ah Ben in the
forest, went in that direction.
The leaves were now falling rapidly, and the clear sky was visible
through the bare limbs above; and the open spaces were beginning to
give the woods quite a wintry aspect. Guir House was visible from a
greater distance than he had ever seen it, and Paul sat down upon a
fallen log to take in the picture of the quaint old mansion, buried
in the depths of a trackless, almost impenetrable forest. He sang a
verse of a familiar song in a loud voice, with the hope of attracting
attention, but the distant echo of the last words was the only
response that he got. Then he threw himself upon the ground and
whistled and smoked alternately, his anxiety constantly growing; but
the gentle sighing of the wind in the tree tops, and the uncertain
rustling of the leaves, were but poor comfort. Was this to be the end
of his strange visit? Was he to start back upon his homeward journey
without an opportunity to bid his phenomenal hosts good-bye? He could
not bear the thought. Dorothy at all events must be found. He would
search the grounds and ransack the house. Surely she must be
somewhere within reach of his voice. But then she was so strange, so
different from any woman he had ever known. How could he tell,
perhaps she had left the old place forever! Henley had not realized
until now what a deep and overpowering dependence had suddenly
developed in him toward these people. They seemed to hold the key to
another world in a more practical and tangible way than he had ever
deemed it possible for any mortal-appearing man to do. Even to be
shut out from the wonderful city of Levachan would be an overwhelming
loss, and how could he ever hope to see it again without their aid?
To be deprived forever of the spiritual influence of these eccentric,
half-earthly acquaintances was a thought he could not tolerate. Even
the horrors through which they had passed appeared trivial as
compared with the glimpses they had afforded him of happiness. But to
see these things--to feel the mystery of their power and beauty just
beginning to descend and take possession of him--and then to be
snatched back to earth, with the inability to return, was too
horrible, and like the ecstatic visions of a drowning man cut short
by rescue. While he had Ah Ben and Dorothy within his reach, he felt
the possibility of return; but suddenly they had gone, and for the
first time he realized what they had been to him. Then it began to
dawn upon him what these people must have suffered in a century and a
half, and what they must continue to endure for untold time to come,
in their inability to return in full to that world they had left, or
even to take part in the affairs of this. Surely their case was far
worse than his, for after a few years he would be freed from the
bondage of matter, and would grapple with the mysteries which had
become so fascinating; but with them it was different. Unfitted for
either world, without a friend and alone, they must drag out their
weary existence until the law of Karma was satisfied. But he would
not give them up; he could not; for were they not the new life, the
new atmosphere, the very essence of his newly discovered self? He had
felt, and seen, how possible it was for a man to tread on air--to
walk the upper regions of the sky, and he could never again be
contented to crawl upon the surface of the ground like a worm. But
without Ah Ben he must crawl. With him, Paul felt that all things
were possible, which powers he felt that Dorothy also possessed;
though, alas, through the crime, and earth-bound cravings of his
host, these powers had been sadly curtailed.
Nerveless and dispirited he returned to the garden gate. Some one had
been there since he had passed, for there were fresh foot-prints
along the walk, of a small, feminine type, and directed toward the
forest. The steps had passed outward, and their track was lost in the
leaves beyond. Surely Dorothy had left the house and gone for a
ramble in the woods without having seen him. How could he have missed
her, and could it have been intentional, were thoughts which came
unpleasantly to Paul at that moment. He stood gazing long and
earnestly in the direction taken by the departing footsteps, and
doing so, his attention was attracted by the flight of a bird which
came swooping towards him from the depths of the woodland glade.
Nearer and nearer it came, uttering a strange, shrill cry, as if to
attract his attention; and then, after circling in the air above his
head, came fluttering down, and lighted upon the gate-post at his
elbow. It was Dorothy's parrot. But what did it mean by this unusual
freak of familiarity? Paul spoke to the bird, which pleased it; and
when he put out his hand to smooth its feathers, the parrot lifted
its wings, and with a loud cackle exhibited a note which had been
carefully tied beneath one of them. Henley relieved the animal of its
burden, and discovered that the note was addressed to himself. When
he looked around again, the parrot had flown away. This is what the
note contained: