For some days after her adventurous voyage to the Great Desert and back
Morgana chose to remain in absolute seclusion. Save for Lady Kingswood
and her own household staff, she saw no one, and was not accessible
even to Don Aloysius, who called several times, moved not only by
interest, but genuine curiosity, to enquire how she fared. Many of the
residents in the vicinity of the Palazzo d'Oro had gleaned scraps of
information here and there concerning the wonderful air-ship which they
had seen careering over their heads during its testing trials, and as a
matter of course they had heard more than scraps in regard to its
wealthy owner. But nowadays keen desire to know and to investigate has
given place to a sort of civil apathy which passes for good form--that
absolute indifferentism which is too much bored to care about other
people's affairs, and which would not disturb itself if it heard of a
neighbour deciding to cross the Atlantic in a washtub. "Nothing
matters," is the general verdict on all events and circumstances.
Nevertheless, the size, the swiftness and soundlessness of the "White
Eagle" and the secrecy observed in its making, had somewhat moved the
heavy lump of human dough called "society," and the whispered novelty
of Morgana's invention had reached Rome and Paris, nay, almost London,
without her consent or knowledge. So that she was more or less deluged
with letters; and noted scientists, both in France and Italy, though
all incredulous as to her attainment, made it a point of "business" to
learn all they could about her, which was not much more than can be
usually learned about any wealthy woman or man with a few whims to
gratify. A murderer gains access to the whole press,--his look, his
manner, his remarks, are all carefully noted and commented upon,--but a
scientist, an explorer, a man or woman whose work is that of
beneficence and use to humanity, is barely mentioned except in the way
of a sneer. So it often chances that the public know nothing of its
greatest till they have passed beyond the reach of worldly honour.
Morgana, however, had no desire that her knowledge or attainment should
be admitted or praised. She was entirely destitute of ambition. She had
read too much and studied too deeply to care for so-called "fame,"
which, as she knew, is the mere noise of one moment, to be lost in
silence the next. She was self-centered and yet not selfish. She felt
that to understand her own entity, its mental and physical composition,
and the possibilities of its future development, was sufficient to fill
her life--that life which she quite instinctively recognised as bearing
within itself the seed of immortality. Her strange interview with the
"Voice" from the City in the Desert, and the glimpse she had been
permitted to see of the owner of that voice, had not so much surprised
her as convinced her of a theory she had long held,--namely that there
were other types of the human race existing, unknown to the generality
of ordinary men and women--types that were higher in their organisation
and mental capacity,--types which by reason of their very advancement
kept themselves hidden and aloof from modern civilisation. And she
forthwith plunged anew into the ocean of scientific problems, where she
floated like a strong swimmer at ease with her mind upturned to the
stars.
Yet she did not neglect the graceful comforts and elegancies of the
Palazzo d'Oro, and life went on in that charming abode peacefully.
Morgana always being the kindest of patrons to Lady Kingswood, and
discoursing feminine commonplaces with her as though there were no
other subjects of conversation in the world than embroidery and
specific cures for rheumatism. She said little--indeed almost
nothing,--of her aerial voyage to the East, except that she had enjoyed
it, and that the Pyramids and the Sphinx were dwarfed into mere
insignificant dots on the land as seen from the air,--she had
apparently nothing more to describe, and Lady Kingswood was not
sufficiently interested in air-travel to press enquiry. One bright
sunny morning, after a week of her self-imposed seclusion, she
announced her intention of calling at the monastery to see Don Aloysius.
"I have been rather rude"--she said--"Of course he has wanted to know
how my flight to the East went off!--and I have given no sign and sent
no message."
"He has called several times"--replied Lady Kingswood--"and I think he
has been very much disappointed not to be received."
"Poor reverend Father!" and Morgana smiled--"He should not bother his
mind about a woman! Well! I'm going to see him now."
Lady Kingswood looked at her critically. She was gowned in a simple
white morning frock with touches of blue,--and she wore a broad-brimmed
Tuscan straw hat with a fold of blue carelessly twined about it. She
made a pretty picture--one of extraordinary youthfulness for any woman
out of her 'teens--so much so that Lady Kingswood wondered if voyages
in the air would be found to have a rejuvenating effect.
"They do not admit women into the actual monastery"--she went
on--"Feminine frivolities are forbidden! But the ruined cloister is
open to visitors and I shall ask to see Don Aloysius there."
She lightly waved adieu and went, leaving her amiable and contented
chaperone to the soothing companionship of a strip of embroidery at
which she worked with the leisurely tranquillity which such an
occupation engenders.
The ruined cloister looked very beautiful that morning, with its
crumbling arches crowned and festooned with roses climbing every way at
their own sweet will, and Morgana's light figure gave just the touch of
human interest to the solemn peacefulness of the scene. She waited but
two or three minutes before Don Aloysius appeared--he had seen her
arrive from the window of his own private library. He approached her
slowly--there was a gravity in the expression of his face that almost
amounted to coldness, and no smile lightened it as she met his keen,
fixed glance.
"So you have come to me at last!" he said--"I have not merited your
confidence till now! Why?"
His rich voice had a ring of deep reproach in its tone--and she was for
a moment taken aback. Then her native self-possession and perfect
assurance returned.
"Dear Father Aloysius, you do not want my confidence! You know all I
can tell you!" she said--and drawing close to him she laid her hand on
his arm--"Am I not right?"
A tremor shook him--gently he put her hand aside.
"You think I know!" he replied--"You imagine--"
"Oh, no, I imagine nothing!" and she smiled--"I am sure--yes,
SURE!--that you have the secret of things that seem fabulous and yet
are true! It was you who first told me of the Brazen City in the Great
Desert,--you said it was a mere tradition--but you filled my mind with
a desire to find it--"
"And you found it?" he interrupted, quickly--"You found it?"
"You know I did!" she replied--"Why ask the question? Messages on a
Sound-Ray can reach YOU, as well as me!"
He moved to the stone bench which occupied a corner of the cloister and
sat down. He was very pale and his eyes were feverishly bright.
Presently he seemed to recover himself, and spoke more in his usual
manner.
"Rivardi has been here every day"--he said--"He has talked of nothing
but you. He told me that he and Gaspard fell suddenly asleep--for which
they were grievously ashamed of themselves--and that you took control
of the air-ship and turned it homeward before you had given them any
chance to explore the desert--"
"Quite true!" she answered, tranquilly--"And--YOU knew all that before
he told you! You knew that I was compelled to turn the ship homeward
because it was not allowed to proceed! Dear Father Aloysius, you cannot
hide yourself from me! You are one of the few who have studied the
secrets of the approaching future,--the 'change' which is imminent--the
'world to come' which is coming! Yes!--and you are brave to live as you
do in the fetters of a conventional faith when you have such a far
wider outlook--"
He stopped her by a gesture, rising from where he sat and extending a
hand of warning and authority.
"Child, beware what you say!" and his voice had a ring of sternness in
its mellow tone--"If I know what you think I know, on what ground do
you suppose I have built my knowledge? Only on that faith which you
call 'conventional'--that faith which has never been understood by the
world's majority! That faith which teaches of the God-in-Man, done to
death by the Man WITHOUT God in him!--and who, nevertheless, by the
spiritual strength of a resurrection from the grave, proves that there
is no death but only continuous renewal of life! This is no mere
'convention' of faith,--no imaginary or traditional tale--it is pure
scientific fact. The virginal conception of divinity in woman, and the
transfiguration of manhood, these things are true--and the advance of
scientific discovery will prove them so beyond all denial. We have held
the faith, AS IT SHOULD BE HELD, for centuries,--and it has led us, and
continues to lead us, to all we know."
"We?" queried Morgana, softly--"WE--of the Church?--or of the Brazen
City?"
He looked at her for some moments without speaking. His tall fine
figure seemed more than ever stately and imposing--and his features
expressed a calm assurance and dignity of thought which gave them
additional charm.
"Your question is bold!" he said--"Your enterprising spirit stops at
nothing! You have learned much--you are resolved to learn more!
Well,--I cannot prevent you,--nor do I see any reason why I should try!
You are a resolved student,--you are also a woman:--a woman different
to ordinary women and set apart from ordinary womanhood. So I say to
you 'We of the Brazen City'--if you will! For more than three thousand
years 'we' have existed--'we' have studied, 'we' have discovered--'we'
have known. 'We,' the selected offspring of all the race that ever were
born,--'we,' the pure blood of the earth,--'we,' the progenitors of the
world TO BE,--'we' have lived, watching temporary civilisations rise
and fall,--seeing generations born and die, because, like weeds, they
have grown without any root of purpose save to smother their neighbours
and destroy. 'We' remain as commanded, waiting for the full declaration
and culmination of those forces which are already advancing to the
end,--when the 'Kingdom' comes!"
Morgana moved close to him, and looked up at his grave, dark face
beseechingly.
"Then why are you here?" she asked--"If you know,--if you were ever in
the 'Brazen City' how did it happen that you left it? How could it
happen?"
He smiled down into the jewel-blue of her clear eyes.
"Little child!" he said--"Brilliant soul, that rejoiced in the
perception that gave you what you called 'the inside of a
sun-ray,'--you, for whom the things which interest men and women of the
moment are mere toys of poor invention--you, of all others, ought to
know that when the laws of the universe are understood and followed,
there can be no fetters on the true liberty of the subject? IF I were
ever in the 'Brazen City'--mind! I say 'if'--there could be nothing to
prevent my leaving it if I chose--"
She interrupted him by the uplifting of a hand.
"I was told"--she said slowly--"by a Voice that spoke to me--that if I
went there I should have to stay there!"
"No doubt!" he answered--"For love would keep you!"
"Love!" she echoed.
"Even so! Such love as you have never dreamed of, dear soul weighted
with millions of gold! Love!--the only force that pulls heaven to earth
and binds them together!"
"But YOU--you--if you were in the Brazen City--"
"If!" he repeated, emphatically.
"If--yes! if"--she said--"If you were there, love did not hold YOU?"
"No!"
There was a silence. The sunshine burned down on the ancient grey
flagstones of the cloister, and two gorgeous butterflies danced over
the climbing roses that hung from the arches in festal wreaths of pink
and white. A luminance deeper than that of the sun seemed to encircle
the figures standing together--the one so elfin, light and
delicate,--the other invested with a kind of inward royalty expressing
itself outwardly in stateliness of look and bearing. Something
mysteriously suggestive of super-humanity environed them; a spirit and
personality higher than mortal. After some minutes Aloysius spoke
again--
"The city is not a 'Brazen' City"--he said--"It has been called so by
travellers who have seen its golden towers glistening afar off in a
sudden refraction of light lasting but a few seconds. Gold often looks
like brass and brass like gold, in human entities as in architectural
results." He paused--then went on slowly and impressively--"Surely you
remember,-you MUST remember, that it is written 'The city lieth
four-square, and the length is as large as the breadth. The wall
thereof is according to the measure of a man--that is, of the Angel.
And the city is of pure gold.' Does that give you no hint of the
measure of a man, that is, of the Angel?--of the 'new heavens and the
new earth,' the old things being passed away? Dear child, you have
studied deeply--you have adventured far and greatly!--continue your
quest, but do not forget to take your guiding Light, the Faith which
half the world and more ignores!"
She sprang to him impulsively and caught his hands.
"Oh, you must help me!" she cried--"You must teach me--I want to know
what YOU know!--"
He held her gently and with reverent tenderness.
"I know no more than you,"--he answered--"you work by Science--I, by
Faith, the bed-rock from Which all science proceeds--and we arrive at
the same discoveries by different methods. I am a poor priest in the
temple of the Divine, serving my turn--but I am not alone in service,
for in every corner of the habitable globe there is one member of our
'City' who communicates with the rest. One!--but enough! To-day's
commercial world uses old systems of wireless telegraphy and telephony
which were known and done with thousands of years ago--but 'we' have
the sound-ray--the light which carries music on its wings and creates
form as it goes."
Here he released her hands.
"Knowing what you do know you have no need of my help"--he
continued--"You have not found happiness yet, because that only comes
through one source--Love. But I doubt not that God will give you that
in His own good time." He paused--then went on--"As you go out, enter
the chapel for a moment and send a prayer on the Sound-Ray to the
Centre of all Knowledge,--the source of all discovery--have no fear but
that it will arrive! The rest is for you to decide."
She hesitated.
"And--the Brazen City?" she queried.
"The Golden City!" he answered--"Well, you have had your experience!
Your name is known there--and no doubt you can hear from it when you
will."
"Do YOU hear from it?" she asked, pointedly.
He smiled gravely.
"I may not speak of what I hear"--he answered. "Nor may you!"
She was silent for a space--then looked up at him appealingly.
"The world is changed for me"--she said--"It will never be the same
again! I do not seem to belong to it--other influences surround
me,--how I live in it?--how shall I work--what shall I do?"
"You will do as you have always done--go your own way"--he
replied--"The way which has led you to so much discovery and
attainment. You must surely know in your own soul that you have been
guided in that way--and your success is the result of allowing yourself
to BE guided. In all things you will be guided now--have no fear for
yourself! All will be well for you!"
"And for you?" she asked impulsively.
He smiled.
"Why think of me?" he said, gently--"I am nothing in your life--"
"You are!" she replied--"You are more than you imagine. I begin to
realise--"
He held up his hand with a warning gesture.
"Hush!" he said--"There are things of which we must not speak!"
At that moment the monastery bell tolled the midday "Angelus." Don
Aloysius bent his head--Morgana instinctively did the same. Within the
building the deep voices of the brethren sounded, chanting,--
"Angelus Domini nuntiavit Maria Et concepit de Spiritu
sancto."
As the salutation to heaven finished, the mellow music of the organ in
the chapel sent a wave of solemn and prayerful tenderness on the air,
and, moved by the emotion of the hour, Morgana's heart beat more
quickly and tears filled her eyes.
"There must be beautiful music in the Golden City!" she said.
Don Aloysius smiled.
"There is! And when the other things of life give you pause to listen,
you will often hear it!"
She smiled happily in response, and then, with a silent gesture of
farewell, left the cloister and made her way to the chapel, part of
which was kept open for public worship. It was empty, but the hidden
organist was still playing. She went towards the High Altar and knelt
in front of it. She was not of the Catholic faith,--she was truly of no
faith at all save that which is taught by Science, which like a door
opened in heaven shows all the wonders within,--but her keen sense of
the beautiful was stirred by the solemn peace of the shut Tabernacle
with the Cross above it, and the great lilies bending under their own
weight of loveliness and fragrance on either side.
"It is the Symbol of a great Truth which is true for all time"--she
thought, as she clasped her hands in an attitude of prayer--"And how
sad and strange it is to feel that there are thousands among its
best-intentioned worshippers and priests who have not discovered its
mystic meaning. The God in Man, born of purity in woman! Is it only in
the Golden City that they know?"
She raised her eyes in half unconscious appeal--and, as she did so, a
brilliant Ray of light flashed downward from the summit of the Cross
which surmounted the Altar, and remained extended slantwise towards
her. She saw it,--and waited expectantly. Close to her ears a Voice
spoke with extreme softness, yet very distinctly.
"Can you hear me?"
"Yes," she replied at once, with equal softness.
"Then, listen! I have a message for you!"
And Morgana listened,--listened intently,--the sapphire hue of the Ray
lighting her gold hair, as she knelt, absorbed. What she heard filled
her with a certain dread; and a tremor of premonition, like the
darkness preceding storm, shook her nerves. But the inward spirit of
her was as a warrior clothed in steel,--she was afraid of
nothing--least of all of any event or incident passing for
"supernatural," knowing beyond all doubt that the most seeming
miraculous circumstances are all the result of natural movement and
transmutation. There never had been anything surprising to her in the
fact that light is a conveyor of sound; and that she was receiving a
message by such means seemed no more extraordinary to her mind than
receiving it by the accepted telephonic service. Every word spoken she
heard with the closest attention--until--as though a cloud had suddenly
covered it,--the "Sound-Ray" vanished, and the Voice ceased.
She rose at once from her knees, alert and ready for action--her face
was pale, her lips set, her eyes luminous.
"I must not hesitate"--she said--"If I can save him I will!"
She left the chapel and hurried home, where as soon as she reached her
own private room she wrote to the Marchese Rivardi the following note,
which was more than unpleasantly startling to him when he received it.
"I shall need you and Gaspard for a long journey in the 'White Eagle.'
Prepare everything in the way of provisioning and other necessary
details. No time must be lost, and no expense need be spared. We must
start as quickly as possible."
This message written, sealed and dispatched by one of her servants to
the Marchese's villa, she sat for some moments lost in thought,
wistfully looking out on her flower-filled gardens and the shimmering
blue of the Mediterranean beyond.
"I may be too late!" she said, speaking aloud to herself--"But I will
take the risk! He will not care--no!--a man like that cares for nothing
but himself. He would have broken my life--(had I given him the
chance!)--for the sake of an experiment. Now--if I can--I will rescue
his for the sake of an ideal!"