In a month the marriage was to be celebrated with great pomp and
rejoicing. Preparations began as soon as the interview between the
Queen and the prospective King was over.
After his return from this betrothal, the power of second sight
which seemed to have left Reuel for a time, returned in full force.
Restlessness was upon him; Dianthe’s voice seemed ever calling to him
through space. Finally, when his feelings became insupportable, he
broached the subject to Ai.
The latter regarded his questioner gravely. “Of a truth thou art
a legitimate son of Ethiopia. Thou growest the fruits of wisdom.
Descendant of the wise Chaldeans, still powerful to a degree undreamed
of by the pigmies of this puny age, you look incredulous, but what I
tell you is the solemn truth.”
“The Chaldeans disappeared from this world centuries ago,” declared
Reuel.
“Not all--in me you behold their present head; within this city and the
outer world, we still number thousands.”
Reuel uttered an exclamation of incredulous amazement. “Not possible!”
Silently Ai went to his cabinet and took down a small, square volume
which he placed in Reuel’s hand. “It is a record of the wisdom and
science of your ancestors.”
Reuel turned it over carefully,--the ivory pages were covered with
characters sharply defined and finely engraved.
“What language is this? It is not Hebrew, Greek nor Sanskrit, nor any
form of hieroglyphic writing.”
“It is the language once commonly spoken by your ancestors long before
Babylon was builded. It is known to us now as the language of prophecy.”
Reuel glanced at the speaker’s regal form with admiration and reverence.
“Teach me what thou knowest, Ai,” he said humbly, “for, indeed, thou
art a wonderful man.”
“Gladly,” replied Ai, placing his hand in loving tenderness upon the
bowed head of the younger man. “Our destiny was foreordained from the
beginning to work together for the upbuilding of humanity and the
restoration of the race of our fathers. This little book shall teach
your soul all that you long to know, and now grasp but vaguely. You
believe in the Soul?”
“Most assuredly!”
“As a Personality that continues to live after the body perishes?”
“Certainly.”
“And that Personality begins to exert its power over our lives as
soon as we begin its cultivation. Death is not necessary to its
manifestation upon our lives. There are always angels near! To us who
are so blessed and singled out by the Trinity there is a sense of the
supernatural always near us--others whom we cannot see, but whose
influence is strong upon us in all the affairs of life. Man only proves
his ignorance if he denies this fact. Some in the country from which
you come contend that the foundations of Christianity are absurd and
preposterous, but all the prophecies of the Trinity shall in time be
fulfilled. They are working out today by the forces of air, light,
wind,--the common things of daily life that pass unnoticed. Ethiopia,
too, is stretching forth her hand unto God, and He will fulfill her
destiny. The tide of immigration shall set in the early days of the
twentieth century, toward Africa’s shores, so long bound in the chains
of barbarism and idolatry.”
Reuel listened entranced, scarce breathing.
“I was warned of your coming long before the knowledge was yours. The
day you left your home for New York, I sat within my secret chamber,
and all was revealed to me.”
“Ay, Ai,” Reuel answered, feebly. “But how?”
“You believe that we can hold communion with the living though seas
divide and distance is infinite, and our friends who have passed to the
future life of light are allowed to comfort us here?”
“I believe.”
“’Tis so,” continued Ai. “Half by chance and half by learning, I long
ago solved one of the great secrets of Nature. Life is wonderful,
but eternity is more wonderful.” He paused, regarding affectionately
Reuel’s troubled face.
“I will answer thy question presently. But can I do aught for thee?
Dost memories of that world from which thou hast recently come disturb
thee, Ergamenes? I have some feeble powers; if thou wilt, command
them.” Ai fell into the use of “thee” and “thou” always when greatly
moved, and Reuel had become very dear to him.
“I would know some happenings in the world I have left; could my desire
be granted, I might, perchance, lose this restlessness which now
oppresses me.”
Ai regarded him intently. “How far hast thou progressed in knowledge of
Infinity?” he asked at length.
“You shall be the judge,” replied Reuel. And then ensued a technical
conversation on the abstract science of occultism and the future state.
“I see thou are well versed,” said Ai finally, evidently well pleased
with the young man’s versatility. “Come with me. Truly we have not
mistaken thee, Ergamenes. Wonderfully hast thou been preserved and
fitted for the work before thee.”
Reuel had the freedom of the palace, but he knew that there were
rooms from which he was excluded. One room especially seemed to be
the sanctum sanctorium of the Sages. It was to this room that Ai now
conducted him.
Reuel was nearly overpowered with the anticipation of being initiated
into the mysteries of this apartment. He found nothing terrifying,
however, in the plain, underground room into which he was ushered.
A rough table and wooden stools constituted the furniture. The only
objects of mystery were a carved table at one end of the apartment,
with a silken cloth thrown over its top, and a vessel like a baptismal
font, cut in stone, full of water. Air and light came from an outside
source, for there were no windows in the room. After closing the door
securely, Ai advanced and removed the cloth from the table. “Sit,” he
commanded. “You ask me how I knew of your coming to my land. Lo, I have
followed your career from babyhood. Behold, Ergamenes! What would you
see upon the mirror’s face? Friend or foe?”
Reuel advanced and looked upon the surface of a disk of which the top
of the table was composed. The material of which the polished surface
was composed was unknown to Reuel; it was not glass, though quite
transparent; it was not metal, though bright as polished steel.
Reuel made no wish, but thought of the spot where the accident had
occurred upon the River Charles weeks before. He was startled to
observe a familiar scene where he had often rowed for pleasure on
pleasant summer evenings. Every minute particular of the scenery was
distinctly visible. Presently the water seemed to darken, and he saw
distinctly the canoe containing Aubrey, Molly and Dianthe gliding over
the water. He started back aghast, crying out, “It is magical!”
“No, no, Ergamenes, this is a secret of Nature. In this disk I can
show thee what thou wilt of the past. In the water of the font we see
the future. Think of a face, a scene--I will reflect it for thee on
this disk. This is an old secret, known to Ethiopia, Egypt and Arabia
centuries ago. I can reflect the past and the faces of those passed
away, but the living and the future are cast by the water.”
Reuel was awed into silence. He could say nothing, and listened to
Ai’s learned remarks with a reverence that approached almost to
worship before this proof of his supernatural powers. What would the
professors of Harvard have said to this, he asked himself. In the heart
of Africa was a knowledge of science that all the wealth and learning
of modern times could not emulate. For some time the images came and
went upon the mirror, in obedience to his desires. He saw the scenes
of his boyhood, the friends of his youth, and experienced anew the
delights of life’s morning. Then he idly desired to see the face of his
loved Dianthe, as she last appeared on earth. The surface of the disk
reflected nothing!
“You have not reached perfection then, in this reflector?”
“Why think you so?” asked Ai gravely.
“I have asked to see the face of a friend who is dead. The mirror did
not reflect it.”
“The disk cannot err,” said Ai. “Let us try the water in the font.”
“But that reflects the living, you say; she is dead.”
“The disk cannot err,” persisted Ai. He turned to the font, gazed in
its surface, and then beckoned Reuel to approach. From the glassy
surface Dianthe’s face gazed back at him, worn and lined with grief.
“’Tis she!” he cried, “her very self.”
“Then your friend still lives,” said Ai, calmly.
“Impossible!”
“Why do you doubt my word, Ergamenes?”
Then with great suppressed excitement and much agitation, Reuel
repeated the story of Dianthe’s death as brought to him by the last
mail he had received from America.
“You say that ‘Molly,’ as you call her, was also drowned?”
“Yes.”
“Let us try the disk.”
They returned to the mirror and instantly the face of Molly Vance gazed
at them from the river’s bed, surrounded by seaweed and grasses.
“Can a man believe in his own sanity!” exclaimed Reuel in an agony of
perplexity.
Ai made no reply, but returned to the font. “I think it best to call up
the face of your enemy. I am sure you have one.” Immediately the water
reflected the debonair face of Aubrey Livingston, which was almost
instantly blotted out by the face of Jim Titus.
“Two!” murmured Ai. “I thought so.”
“If she then lives, as your science seems to insist, show me her
present situation,” cried Reuel, beside himself with fears.
“I must have a special preparation for the present,” said Ai, calmly.
He set about preparing a liquid mixture. When this was accomplished he
washed the face of the disk with a small sponge dipped in the mixture.
A film of sediment instantly formed upon it.
“When this has dried, I will scrape it off and polish the mirror,
then we shall be ready for the demonstration. One picture only will
come--this will remain for a number of days, after that the disk will
return to its normal condition. But, see! the sediment is caked. Now
to remove it and finish our test.” At last it was done, and the disk
repolished. Then standing before it, Ai cried, in an earnest voice:
“Let the present appear upon the disk, if it be for the benefit of Thy
human subjects!”
Ai appeared perfectly calm, but his hands shook. Reuel remained a short
remove from him, awaiting his summons.
“Come, Ergamenes.”
For a few moments Reuel gazed upon the plate, his eyes brilliant with
expectation, his cheeks aglow with excitement. Then he involuntarily
shuddered, a half suppressed groan escaped him, and he grew ashy
pale. In a trice he became entirely unnerved, and staggered back and
forth like a drunken man. Greatly alarmed, and seeing he was about to
fall, Ai sprang to his side and caught him. Too late. He fell to the
floor in a swoon. The picture reflected by the disk was that of the
ancestral home of the Livingstons. It showed the parlor of a fine old
mansion; two figures stood at an open window, their faces turned to the
interior. About the woman’s waist the man’s arm was twined in a loving
embrace. The faces were those of Aubrey and Dianthe.
Late that night Reuel tossed upon his silken couch in distress of
mind. If the disk were true, then Dianthe and Aubrey both lived and
were together. He was torn by doubts, haunted by dreadful fears of he
knew not what. If the story of the disk were true, never was man so
deceived and duped as he had been. Then in the midst of his anger and
despair came an irresistible impulse to rise from his bed. He did so,
and distinctly felt the pressure of a soft hand upon his brow, and a
yielding body at his side. The next instant he could have sworn that he
heard the well-known tones of Dianthe in his ears, saying:
“Reuel, it is I.”
Unable to answer, but entirely conscious of a presence near him, he had
presence of mind enough to reiterate a mental question. His voiceless
question was fully understood, for again the familiar voice spoke:
“I am not dead, my husband; but I am lost to you. Not of my own seeking
has this treachery been to thee, O beloved. The friend into whose care
you gave me has acquired the power over me that you alone possessed,
that power sacred to our first meeting and our happy love. Why did you
leave me in the power of a fiend in human shape, to search for gold?
There are worse things in life than poverty.”
Calming the frenzy of his thoughts by a strong effort, Reuel continued
his mental questions until the whole pitiful story was his. He knew not
how long he continued in this communion. Over and over he turned the
story he had learned in the past few hours. Ungovernable rage against
his false friend possessed him. “Blind, fool, dupe, dotard!” he called
himself, not to have seen the treachery beneath the mask of friendship.
And then to leave her helpless in the hands of this monster, who had
not even spared his own betrothed to compass his love for another.
But at least revenge was left him. He would return to America and
confront Aubrey Livingston with his guilt. But how to get away from the
hidden city. He knew that virtually he was a prisoner.
Still turning over ways and means, he fell into an uneasy slumber, from
which he was aroused by a dreadful shriek.