Two or three hours later the "White Eagle" was high in air above the
Palazzo d'Oro. Down below Lady Kingswood stood on the seashore by the
aerodrome, watching the wonderful ship of the sky with dazzled, scared
eyes--amazed at the lightning speed of its ascent and the steadiness of
its level flight. She had seen it spread its great wings as by
self-volition and soar out of the aerodrome with Morgana seated inside
like an elfin queen in a fairy car--she had seen the Marchese Giulio
Rivardi "take the helm" with the assistant Gaspard, now no longer a
prey to fear, beside him. Up, up and away they had flown, waving to her
till she could see their forms no longer--till the "White Eagle" itself
looked no bigger than a dove soaring in the blue. And while she waited,
even this faint dove-image vanished! She looked in every direction, but
the skies were empty. To her there was something very terrifying in
this complete disappearance of human beings in the vast stretches of
the air--they had gone so silently, too, for the "White Eagle's" flight
made no sound, and though the afternoon was warm and balmy she felt
chilled with the cold of nervous apprehension. Yet they had all assured
her there was no cause for alarm,--they were only going on a short
trial trip and would be back to dinner.
"Nothing more than a run in a motor-car!" Morgana said, gaily.
Nothing more,--but to Lady Kingswood it seemed much more. She belonged
to simple Victorian days--days of quiet home-life and home affections,
now voted "deadly dull!" and all the rushing to and fro and gadding
about of modern men and women worried and distressed her, for she had
the plain common sense to perceive that it did no good either to health
or morals, and led nowhere. She looked wistfully out to sea,--the blue
Sicilian sea so exquisite in tone and play of pure reflections,--and
thought how happy a life lived after the old sweet ways might be for a
brilliant little creature like Morgana, if she could win "a good man's
love" as Shakespeare puts it. And yet--was not this rather harking back
to mere sentiment, often proved delusive? Her own "good man's love" had
been very precious to her,--but it had not fulfilled all her heart's
longing, though she considered herself an entirely commonplace woman.
And what sort of a man would it be that could hold Morgana? As well try
to control a sunbeam or a lightning flash as the restless vital and
intellectual spirit that had, for the time being, entered into feminine
form, showing itself nevertheless as something utterly different and
superior to women as they are generally known. Some thoughts such as
these, though vague and disconnected, passed through Lady Kingswood's
mind as she turned away from the sea-shore to re-ascend the
flower-bordered terraces of the Palazzo d'Oro,--and it was with real
pleasure that she perceived on the summit of the last flight of grassy
steps, the figure of Don Aloysius. He was awaiting her approach, and
came down a little way to meet her.
"I saw the air-ship flying over the monastery,"--he explained, greeting
her--"And I was anxious to know whether la Signora had gone away into
the skies or was still on earth! She has gone, I suppose?"
"Yes, she has gone!" sighed Lady Kingswood--"and the Marchese with her,
and one assistant. Her 'nerve' is simply astonishing!"
"You did not think of venturing on a trip with her yourself?"--and the
priest smiled kindly, as he assisted her to ascend the last flight of
steps to the loggia.
"No indeed! I really could not! I feel I ought to be braver--but I
cannot summon up sufficient courage to leave terra firma. It seems
altogether unnatural."
"Then what will you do when you are an angel, dear lady?" queried
Aloysius, playfully--"You will have to leave terra firma then! Have you
ever thought of that?"
She smiled.
"I'm afraid I don't think!" she said--"I take my life on trust. I
always believe that God who brought me HERE will take care of me
THERE!--wherever 'there' is. You understand me, don't you? You speak
English so well that I'm sure you do."
"Yes--I understand you perfectly"--he replied--"That I speak English is
quite natural, for I was educated at Stonyhurst, in England. I was then
for a time at Fort Augustus in Scotland, and studied a great many of
the strange traditions of the Highland Celts, to which mystic people
Miss Royal by birth belongs. Her ancestry has a good deal to do with
her courage and character."
While he spoke Lady Kingswood gazed anxiously into the sky, searching
it north, south, east, west, for the first glimpse of the returning
"White Eagle," but there was no sign of it.
"You must not worry yourself,"--went on the priest, putting a chair for
her in the loggia, and taking one himself--"If we sit here we shall see
the air-ship returning, I fancy, by the western line,--certainly near
the sunset. In any case let me assure you there is no danger!" "No
danger?"
"Absolutely none!"
Lady Kingswood looked at him in bewildered amazement.
"Surely there MUST be danger?" she said--"The terrible accidents that
happen every day to these flying machines--"
"Yes--but you speak of ordinary flying machines," said Aloysius,--"This
'White Eagle' is not an ordinary thing. It is the only one of its kind
in the world--the only one scientifically devised to work with the laws
of Nature. You saw it ascend?"
"I did."
"It made no sound?"
"None."
"Then how did its engines move, if it HAD engines?" pursued
Aloysius--"Had you no curiosity about it?"
"I'm afraid I hadn't--I was really too nervous! Morgana begged me to go
inside, but I could not!"
Don Aloysius was silent for a minute or two, out of gentle tolerance.
He recognised that Lady Kingswood belonged to the ordinary class of
good, kindly women not overburdened with brains, to whom thought,
particularly of a scientific or reflective nature, would be a kind of
physical suffering. And how fortunate it is that there are, and always
will be such women! Many of them are gifted with the supreme talent of
making happiness around themselves,--and in this way they benefit
humanity more than the often too self-absorbed student of things which
are frequently "past finding out."
"I understand your feeling";--he said, at last--"And I hardly wonder at
your very natural fears. I must admit that I think human daring is
going too fast and too far--the science of to-day is not tending to
make men and women happier--and after all, happiness is the great goal."
A slight sigh escaped him, and Lady Kingswood looked at his fine,
composed features with deep interest.
"Do you think God meant us to be happy?" she asked, gently.
"It is a dubious question!" he answered--"When we view the majesty and
loveliness of nature--we cannot but believe we were intended to enjoy
the splendid treasures of beauty freely spread out before us,--then
again, if we look back thousands of years and consider the great
civilisations of the past that have withered into dust and are now
forgotten, we cannot help wondering why there should be such a waste of
life for apparently no purpose. I speak in a secular sense,--of course
my Church has but one reply to doubt, or what we call 'despair of God's
mercy'--that it is sin. We are not permitted to criticise or to
question the Divine."
"And surely that is best!" said Lady Kingswood, "and surely you have
found happiness, or what is nearest to happiness, in your beautiful
Faith?"
His eyes were shadowed by deep gravity.
"Miladi, I have never sought happiness," he replied; "From my earliest
boyhood I felt it was not for me. Among the comrades of my youth many
started the race of life with me--happiness was the winning post they
had in view--and they tried many ways to reach it--some through
ambition, some through wealth, some through love--but I have never
chanced to meet one of them who was either happy or satisfied. MY mind
was set on nothing for myself--except this--to grope through the
darkness for the Great Mind behind the Universe--to drop my own 'ego'
into it, as a drop of rain into the sea--and so--to be content! And in
this way I have learned much,--more than I consider myself worthy to
know. Modern science of the surface kind--(not the true deep
discoveries)--has done its best to detach the rain-drop from the
sea!--but it has failed. I stay where I have plunged my soul!"
He spoke as it were to himself with the air of one inspired; he had
almost forgotten the presence of Lady Kingswood, who was gazing at him
in a rapture of attention.
"Oh, if I could only think as you do!" she said, in a low tone--"Is it
truly the Catholic Church that teaches these things?"
"The Catholic Church is the sign and watchword of all these things!" he
answered--"Not only that, but its sacred symbols, though ancient enough
to have been adopted from Babylonia and Chaldea, are actually the
symbols of our most modern science. Catholicism itself does not as yet
recognise this. Like a blind child stumbling towards the light it has
FELT the discoveries of science long before discovery. In our
sacraments there are the hints of the transmutation of elements,--the
'Sanctus' bell suggests wireless telegraphy or telepathy, that is to
say, communication between ourselves and the divine Unseen,--and if we
are permitted to go deeper, we shall unravel the mystery of that
'rising from the dead' which means renewed life. I am a 'prejudiced'
priest, of course,"--and he smiled, gravely--"but with all its
mistakes, errors, crimes (if you will) that it is answerable for since
its institution, through the sins of unworthy servants, Catholicism is
the only creed with the true seed of spiritual life within it--the only
creed left standing on a firm foundation in this shaking world!"
He uttered these words with passionate eloquence and added--
"There are only three things that can make a nation great,--the love of
God, the truth of man, the purity of woman. Without these three the
greatest civilisation existing must perish,--no matter how wide its
power or how vast its wealth. Ignorant or vulgar persons may sneer at
this as 'the obvious'--but it is the 'obvious' sun alone that rules the
day."
Lady Kingswood's lips trembled; there were tears in her eyes.
"How truly you speak!" she murmured--"And yet we live in a time when
such truths appear to have no influence with people at all. Every one
is bent on pleasure--on self--"
"As every one was in the 'Cities of the Plain,'"--he said, "and we may
well expect another rain of fire!"
Here, lifting his eyes, he saw in the soft blush rose of the
approaching sunset a small object like a white bird flying homeward
across the sea.
"Here it comes!" he exclaimed--"Not the rain of fire, but something
more agreeable! I told you, did I not, miladi, that there was no
danger? See!"
Lady Kingswood looked where he pointed.
"Surely that is not the air-ship?" she said--"It is too small!"
"At this distance it is small"--answered Aloysius--"But wait!
Watch,--and you will soon perceive Its great wings! What a marvellous
thing it is! Marvellous!--and a woman's work!"
They stood together, gazing into the reddening west, thrilled with
expectancy,--while with a steady swiftness and accuracy of movement the
bird-like object which at the first glimpse had seemed so small
gradually loomed larger with nearer vision, its enormous wings
spreading wide and beating the air rhythmically as though the true
pulsation of life impelled their action. Neither Lady Kingswood nor Don
Aloysius exchanged a word, so absorbed were they in watching the "White
Eagle" arrive, and not till it began to descend towards the shore did
they relax their attention and turn to each other with looks of
admiration and amazement.
"How long have they been gone?" asked Aloysius then.
Lady Kingswood glanced at her watch.
"Barely two hours."
At that moment the "White Eagle" swooped suddenly over the gardens,
noiselessly and with an enormous spread of wing that was like a white
cloud in the sky--then gracefully swerved aside towards its "shed" or
aerodrome, folding its huge pinions as of its own will and sliding into
its quarters as easily as a hand may slide into a loose-fitting glove.
The two interested watchers of its descent and swift "run home" had no
time to exchange more than a few words of comment before Morgana ran
lightly up the terrace, calling to them with all the gaiety of a child
returning on a holiday.
"It was glorious!" she exclaimed--"Just glorious! We've been to
Naples,--crowds gathered in the street to stare at us,--we were ever so
high above them and they couldn't make us out, as we moved so silently!
Then we hovered for a bit over Capri,--the island looked like a lovely
jewel shining with sun and sea,--and now here we are!--home in plenty
of time to dress for dinner! You see, dear 'Duchess'--you need not have
been nervous,--the 'White Eagle' is safer than any railway train, and
ever so much pleasanter!"
"Well, I'm glad you've come back all right"--said Lady Kingswood--"It's
a great relief! I certainly was afraid---"
"Oh, you must never be afraid of anything!" laughed Morgana--"It does
no good. We are all too much afraid of everything and everybody,--and
often when there's nothing to be afraid of! Am I not right, most
reverend Father Aloysius?" and she turned with a radiant smile to the
priest whose serious dark eyes rested upon her with an expression of
mingled admiration and wonder--"I'm so glad to find you here with Lady
Kingswood--I'm sure you told her there was no danger for me, didn't
you? Yes? I thought so! Now do stay and dine with us, please!--I want
you to talk to the Marchese Rivardi--he's rather cross! He cannot bear
me to have my own way!--I suppose all men are like that!--they want
women to submit, not to command!" She laughed again. "See!--here he
comes,--with the sulky air of a naughty boy!" this, as Rivardi slowly
mounted the terrace steps and approached--"I'm off to dress for
dinner--come, 'Duchess!' We'll leave the men to themselves!"
She slipped her arm through Lady Kingswood's and hurried her away. Don
Aloysius was puzzled by her words,--and, as Rivardi came up to him
raised his eyebrows interrogatively. The Marchese answered the unspoken
query by an impatient shrug.
"Altro! She is impossible!" he said irritably--"Wild as the
wind!--uncontrollable! She will kill herself!--but she does not care!"
"What has she done?" asked Aloysius, smiling a little--"Has she
invented something new?--a parachute in which to fall gracefully like a
falling star?"
"Nothing of the kind"--retorted Rivardi; vexed beyond all reason at the
priest's tranquil air of good-humored tolerance--"But she insists on
steering the air-ship herself! She took my place to-day."
"Well?"
"Well! You think that nothing? I tell you it is very serious--very
foolhardy. She knows nothing of aerial navigation--"
"Was her steering faulty?"
Rivardi hesitated.
"No,--it was wonderful"--he admitted, reluctantly; "Especially for a
first attempt. And now she declares she will travel with the 'White
Eagle' alone! Alone! Think of it! That little creature alone in the air
with a huge air-ship under her sole control! The very idea is madness!"
"Have patience, Giulio!" said Don Aloysius, gently--"I think she cannot
mean what she says in this particular instance. She is naturally full
of triumph at the success of her invention,--an amazing invention you
must own!--and her triumph makes her bold. But be quite easy in your
mind!--she will not travel alone!"
"She will--she will!" declared Rivardi, passionately--"She will do
anything she has a mind to do! As well try to stop the wind as stop
her! She has some scheme in her brain,--so fantastic vision of that
Brazen City you spoke of the other day--"
Don Aloysius gave a sudden start.
"No!--not possible!" he said--"She will not pursue a phantasm,--a
dream!"
He spoke nervously, and his face paled. Rivardi looked at him curiously.
"There is no such place then?" he asked--"It is only a legend?"
"Only a legend!" replied Aloysius, slowly--"Some travellers say it is a
mirage of the desert,--others tell stories of having heard the bells in
the brazen towers ring,--but no one--NO ONE," and he repeated the words
with emphasis--"has ever been able to reach even the traditional
environs of the place. Our hostess," and he smiled--"is a very
wonderful little person, but even she will hardly be able to discover
the undiscoverable!"
"Can we say that anything is undiscoverable?" suggested Rivardi.
Don Aloysius thought a moment before replying.
"Perhaps not!"--he said, at last--"Our life all through is a voyage of
discovery wherein we have no certainty of the port of arrival. The
puzzling part of it is that we often 'discover' what has been
discovered before in past ages where the discoverers seemed to make no
use of their discoveries!--and so we lose ourselves in wonder--and
often in weariness!" He sighed,--then added--"Had we not better go in
and prepare to meet our hostess at dinner? And Giulio!--unbend your
brows!--you must not get angry with your charming benefactress! If you
do not let her have HER way, she will never let you have YOURS!"
Rivardi gave a resigned gesture.
"Oh, MINE! I must give up all hope--she will never think of me more
than as a workman who has carried out her design. There is something
very strange about her--she seems, at certain moments, to withdraw
herself from all the interests of mere humanity. To-day, for instance,
she looked down from the air-ship on the swarming crowds in the streets
of Naples and said 'Poor little microbes! How sad it is to see them
crawling about and festering down there! What IS the use of them! I
wish I knew!' Then, when I ventured to suggest that possibly they were
more than 'microbes,'--they were human beings that loved and worked and
thought and created, she looked at me with those wonderful eyes of hers
and answered--'Microbes do the same--only we don't take the trouble to
think about them! But if we knew their lives and intentions, I dare say
we should find they are quite as clever in their own line as we are in
ours!' What is one to say to a woman who argues in this way?"
Don Aloysius laughed gently.
"But she argues quite correctly after all! My son, you are like the
majority of men--they grow impatient with clever women,--they prefer
stupid ones. In fact they deliberately choose stupid ones to be the
mothers of their children--hence the ever increasing multitude of
fools!" He moved towards the open doors of the beautiful lounge-hall of
the Palazzo, Rivardi walking at his side. "But you will grant me a
measure of wisdom in the advice I gave you the other day-the little
millionairess is unlike other women--she is not capable of loving,--not
in the way loving is understood in this world,--therefore do not seek
from her what she cannot give!--As for her 'flying alone'--leave that
to the fates!--I do not think she will attempt it."
They entered the Palazzo just as a servant was about to announce to
them that dinner would be served in a quarter of an hour, and their
talk, for the time being, ended. But the thoughts of both men were
busy; and unknown to each other, centered round the enigmatical
personality of one woman who had become more interesting to them than
anything else in the world,--so much so indeed that each in his own
private mind wondered what life would be worth without her!