A great silence pervaded the Palazzo d'Oro,--the strained silence of an
intense activity weighted with suspense. Servants moved about here and
there with noiseless rapidity,--Don Aloysius was seen constantly pacing
up and down the loggia absorbed in anxious thought and prayer, and the
Marchese Rivardi came and went on errands of which he alone knew the
import. Overhead the sky was brilliantly blue and cloudless,--the sun
flashed a round shield of dazzling gold all day long on the breast of
the placid sea,--but within the house, blinds were drawn to shade and
temper the light for eyes that perhaps might never again open to the
blessing and glory of the day. A full week had passed since the "White
Eagle" had returned from its long and adventurous flight over the vast
stretches of ocean, bearing with it the two human creatures cast down
to death in the deep Californian canon,--and only one of them had
returned to the consciousness of life,--the other still stayed on the
verge of the "Great Divide." Morgana had safely landed the heavy burden
of seeming death her ship had carried,--and simply stating to Lady
Kingswood and her household staff that it was a case of rescue from
drowning, had caused the two corpses--(such as they truly appeared)--to
be laid, each in a separate chamber, surrounded with every means that
could be devised or thought of for their resuscitation. In an
atmosphere glowing with mild warmth, on soft beds they were placed,
inert and white as frozen clay, their condition being apparently so
hopeless that it seemed mere imaginative folly to think that the least
breath could ever again part their set lips or the smallest pulsation
of blood stir colour through their veins. But Morgana never wavered in
her belief that they lived, and hour after hour, day after day she
watched with untiring patience, administering the mysterious balm or
portion which she kept preciously in her own possession,--and not till
the fifth day of her vigil, when Manella showed faint signs of
returning consciousness, did she send to Rome for a famous scientist
and physician with whom she had frequently corresponded. She entrusted
the dispatch of this message to Rivardi, saying--
"It is now time for further aid than mine. The girl will recover--but
the man--the man is still in the darkness!"
And her eyes grew heavy with a cloud of sorrow and regret which
softened her delicate beauty and made it more than ever unearthly.
"What are they--what is HE--to you?" demanded Rivardi jealously.
"My friend, there was a time when I should have considered that
question an impertinence from you!" she said, tranquilly--"But yours is
the great share of the rescue--and your magnificent bravery wins you my
pardon,--for many things!" And she smiled as she saw him flush under
her quiet gaze--"What is this man to me, you ask? Why nothing!--not
now! Once he was everything,--though he never knew it. Some quality in
him struck the keynote of the scale of life for me,--he was the great
delusion of a dream! The delusion is ended--the dream is over! But for
that he WAS to me, though only in my own thoughts, I have tried to save
his life--not for myself, but for the woman who loves him."
"The woman we rescued with him?--the woman who is here?"
She bent her head in assent. Rivardi's eyes dwelt on her with greater
tenderness than he had ever felt before,--she looked so frail and
fairy-like, and withal so solitary. He took her little hand and gently
kissed it with courteous reverence.
"Then--after all--you have known love!" he said in a low voice--"You
have felt what it is,--though you have assumed to despise it?"
"My good Giulio, I DO despise most heartily what the world generally
understands as love"--she replied; "There is no baser or more selfish
sentiment!--a sentiment made up half of animal desire and half of a
personal seeking for admiration, appreciation and self-gratification!
Yes, Giulio!--it is so, and I despise it for all these attributes--in
truth it is not what I understand or accept as love at all--"
"What DO you understand and accept?" he asked, softly.
Her eyes shone kindly as she raised them to his face.
"Not what you can ever give, Giulio!" she said--"Love--to my mind--is
the spiritual part of our being--it should be the complete union of two
souls that move as one,--like the two wings of a bird making the body
subservient to the highest flights, even as far as heaven! The physical
mating of man and woman is seldom higher than the physical mating of
any other animals under the sun,--the animals know nothing beyond--but
we--we ought to know something!" She paused, then went on--"There is
sometimes a great loftiness even in the physical way of so-called
'love'--such passion as the woman we have rescued has for the man she
was ready to die with,--a primitive passion of primitive woman at her
best. Such feeling is out of date in these days--we have passed that
boundary line--and a great unexplored world lies open before us--who
can say what we may find there! Perhaps we shall discover what all
women have sought for from the beginning of things--"
"And that is?" he asked.
"Happiness!" she replied--"The perfect happiness of life in love!"
He had held her hand till now, when he released it.
"I wish I could give it to you!" he said.
"You cannot, Giulio! I am not made for any man--as men go!"
"It is a pity you think so"--he said--"For--after all--you are just--a
woman!"
"Am I?" she murmured,--and a strange flitting smile brightened her
features--"Perhaps!--and yet--perhaps not! Who knows!"
She left him puzzled and uneasy. Somehow she always managed to evade
his efforts to become more intimate in his relations with her. Generous
and kind-hearted as she was, she held him at a distance, and maintained
her own aloof position inexorably. A less intelligent man than Rivardi
would have adopted the cynic's attitude and averred that her rejection
of love and marriage arose from her own unlovableness and
unmarriageableness, but he knew better than that. He was wise enough to
perceive the rareness and delicacy of her physical and mental
organisation and temperament,--a temperament so finely strung as to
make all other women seem gross and material beside her. He felt and
knew her to be both his moral and intellectual superior,--and this very
fact rendered it impossible that he could ever master her mind and tame
it down to the subservience of married life. That dauntless spirit of
hers would never bend to an inferior,--not even love (if she could feel
it) would move her thus far. And the man she had adventured across
ocean to rescue--what was he? She confessed that she had loved him,
though that love was past. And now she had set herself to watch night
and day by his dead body (for dead he surely was in Rivardi's opinion)
sparing no pains to recover what seemed beyond recovery; while one of
the greatest mysteries of the whole mysterious affair was just
this--How had she known the man's life was in danger?
All these questions Rivardi discussed with Don Aloysius, who listened
to him patiently without committing himself to any reply. Whatever
Morgana had confided to him--(and she had confided much)--he kept his
own counsel.
Within forty-eight hours of Morgana's summons the famous specialist
from Rome, Professor Marco Ardini, noted all over the world for his
miraculous cures of those whom other physicians had given up as past
curing, arrived. He heard the story of the rescue of a man and woman
from drowning with emotionless gravity, more taken for the moment by
Morgana herself, whom he had never seen before, but with whom he had
corresponded on current questions of scientific importance. From the
extremely learned and incisive tone of her letters he had judged her to
be an elderly woman of profound scholarship who had spent the greater
part of her life in study, and his astonishment at the sight of the
small, dainty creature who received him in the library of the Palazzo
d'Oro was beyond all verbal expression,--in fact, he took some minutes
to recover from the magnetic "shock" of her blue eyes and wistful smile.
"I must be quite frank with you,"--she said, after a preliminary
conversation with the great man in his own Italian tongue--"These two
people have suffered their injuries by drowning--but not altogether.
They are the victims of an earthquake,--and were thrown by the earth's
upheaval into a deep chasm flooded by water--"
The Professor interrupted her.
"Pardon, Signora! There has been no recent earthquake in Europe."
She gave a little gesture of assent.
"Not in Europe--no! But in America--in California there has been a
terrible one!"
"In California!" he echoed amazedly-"Gran' Dio! You do not mean to say
that you brought these people from California, across that vast extent
of ocean?"
She smiled.
"By air-ship--yes! Really nothing so very remarkable! You will not ask
for further details just now, Professor!" and she laid her pretty hand
coaxingly on his arm--"You and I both know how advisable it is to say
as little as possible of our own work or adventures, while any subject
is awaiting treatment and every moment counts! I will answer any
question you may ask when you have seen my patients. The girl is a
beautiful creature--she is beginning to regain consciousness--but the
man I fear is past even YOUR skill. Come!"
She led the way and Professor Ardini followed, marvelling at her
ethereal grace and beauty, and more than interested in the "case" on
which his opinion was sought. Entering a beautiful room glowing with
light and warmth and colour, he saw, lying on a bed and slightly
propped up by pillows, a lovely girl, pale as ivory, with dark hair
loosely braided on either side of her head. Her eyes were closed, and
the long black lashes swept the cheeks in a curved fringe,--the lips
were faintly red, and the breath parted them slowly and reluctantly.
The Professor bent over her and listened,--her heart beat slowly but
regularly,--he felt her pulse.
"She will live!"--he said--"There are no injuries?"
"None"--Morgana replied, as he put his questions--"Some few
bruises--but no bones broken--nothing serious."
"You have examined her?"
"Yes."
"You have no nurses?"
"No. I and my house people are sufficient." Her tone became slightly
peremptory. "There is no need for outside interference. Whatever your
orders are, they shall be carried out."
He looked at her. His face was a somewhat severe one, furrowed with
thought and care,--but when he smiled, a wonderful benevolence gave it
an almost handsome effect. And he smiled now.
"You shall not be interfered with,"--he said--"You have done very well!
Complete rest, nourishment and your care are all that this patient
needs. She will be quite herself in a very short time. She is
extraordinarily beautiful!"
"I wish you could see her eyes!" said Morgana.
Almost as if the uttered wish had touched some recess of her stunned
brain, Manella's eyelids quivered and lifted,--the great dark glory of
the stars of her soul shone forth for an instant, giving sudden
radiance to the pallor of her features--then they closed again as in
utter weariness.
"Magnificent!" said Ardini, under his breath--"And full of the vital
light,--she will live!"
"And she will love!" added Morgana, softly.
The Professor looked at her enquiringly.
"The man she loves is in the next room"--she continued--"We rescued him
with her--if it can be called a rescue. He is the worst case. Only you
may be able to bring him back to consciousness,--I have done my best in
vain. If YOU fail then we must give up hope."
She preceded him into the adjoining chamber; as he entered it after her
he paused--almost intimidated, despite his long medical and surgical
experience, by the stone-like figure of man that lay before him. It was
as if one should have unearthed a statue, grey with time--a statue
nobly formed, with a powerful head and severe features sternly
set,--the growth of beard revealing, rather than concealing, the
somewhat cruel contour of mouth and chin. The Professor walked slowly
up to the bed and looked at this strange effigy of a human being for
many minutes in silence,--Morgana watching him with strained but quiet
suspense. Presently he touched the forehead--it was stone-cold--then
the throat, stone-cold and rigid--he bent down and listened for the
heart's pulsations,--not a flutter--not a beat! Drawing back from this
examination he looked at Morgana,--she met his eyes with the query in
her own which she emphasised by the spoken word--
"Dead?"
"No!"--he answered--"I think not. It is very difficult for a man of
this type to die at all. Granted favourable conditions--and barring
accidents caused by the carelessness of others--he ought to be one of
those destined to live for ever. But"--here he hesitated--"if I am
right in my surmise,--of course it is only a first opinion--death would
be the very best thing for him."
"Oh, why do you say that?" she asked, pitifully.
"Because the brain is damaged--hopelessly! This man--whoever he is--has
been tampering with some chemical force he does not entirely
understand,--his whole body is charged with its influence, and this it
is that gives his form its unnatural appearance which, though
death-like, is not death. If I leave him alone and untouched he will
probably expire unconsciously in a few days,--but if--after what I have
just told you--you wish me to set the life atoms going again,--even as
a clock is wound up,--I can relax the tension which now paralyses the
cells, muscles and nerves, and he will live--yes!--like most people
without brains he will live a long time--probably too long!"
Morgana moved to the bedside and gazed with a solemn earnestness at the
immobile, helpless form stretched out before her as though ready for
burial. Her heart swelled with suppressed emotion,--she thought with
anguish of the brilliant brain, the strong, self-sufficient nature
brought to such ruin through too great an estimate of human capability.
Tears rushed to her eyes--
"Oh, give him life!" she whispered--"Give him life for the sake of the
woman who loves him more than life!"
The Professor gave her a quick, keen glance.
"You?"
She shivered at the question as though struck by a cold wind,--then
conquering the momentary weakness, answered--
"No. The girl you have just seen. He is her world!"
Ardini's brows met in a saturnine frown.
"Her world will be an empty one!" he said, with an expressive
gesture--"A world without fruit or flower,--without light or song! A
dreary world! But such as it is,--such as it is bound to be,--it can
live on,--a life-in-death."
"Are you quite sure of this?" Morgana asked--"Can any of us, however
wise, be quite sure of anything?"
His frown relaxed and his whole features softened. He took her hand and
patted it kindly.
"Signora, you know as well as I do, that the universe and all within it
represents law and order. A man is a little universe in himself--and if
the guiding law of his system is destroyed, there is chaos and
darkness. We scientists can say 'Let there be light,' but the fulfilled
result 'and there was light' comes from God alone!"
"Why should not God help in this case?" she suggested.
"Ah, why!" and Ardini shrugged his shoulders--"How can I tell? My long
experience has taught me that wherever the law has been broken God does
NOT help! Who knows whether this frozen wreck of man has obeyed or
disobeyed the law? I can do all that science allows--"
"And you will do it!" interrupted Morgana eagerly, "You will use your
best skill and knowledge--everything you wish shall be at your
service--name whatever fee your merit claims--"
He raised his hand with a deprecatory gesture.
"Money does not count with me, Signora!" he said--"Nor with you. The
point with both of us in all our work is--success! Is it not so? Yes!
And it is because I do not see a true success in this case that I
hesitate; true success would mean the complete restoration of this man
to life and intelligence,--but life without intelligence is no triumph
for science. I can do all that science will allow--"
"And you WILL do this 'all'"--said Morgana, eagerly--"You will forego
triumph for simple pity!--pity for the girl who would surely die if he
were dead!--and perhaps after all, God may help the recovery!"
"It shall be as you wish, Signora! I must stay here two or three days--"
"As long as you find it necessary"--said Morgana--"All your orders
shall be obeyed."
"Good! Send me a trustworthy man-servant who can help to move and
support the patient, and we can get to work. I left a few necessary
appliances in your hall--I should like them brought into this room--and
then--" here he took her hand and pressed it kindly--"you can leave us
to our task, and take some rest. You must be very tired."
"I am never tired"--she answered, gently--"I thank you in advance for
all you are going to do!"
She left the room then, with one backward glance at the inert stiff
figure on the bed,--and went to arrange matters with her household that
the Professor's instructions should be strictly carried out. Lady
Kingswood, deeply interested, heard her giving certain orders and
asked--
"There is hope then? These two poor creatures will live?"
"I think so"--answered Morgana, with a thrill of sadness in her sweet
voice--"They will live--pray God their lives may be worth living!"
She watched the man-servant whom she had chosen to wait on Ardini
depart on his errand--she saw him open the door of the room where
Seaton lay, and shut it--then there was a silence. Oppressed by a
sudden heaviness of heart she thought of Manella, and entered her
apartment softly to see how she fared. The girl's beautiful dark eyes
were wide open and full of the light of life and consciousness. She
smiled and stretched out her arms.
"It is my angel!" she murmured faintly--"My little white angel who came
to me in the darkness! And this is Heaven!"
Swiftly and silently Morgana went to her side, and taking her
outstretched arms put them round her own neck.
"Manella!" she said, tenderly--"Dear, beautiful Manella! Do you know
me?"
The great loving eyes rested on her with glowing warmth and pleasure.
"Indeed I know you!" and Manella's voice, weak as that of a sick child,
sounded ever so far away--"The little white lady of my dreams! Oh, I
have wanted you!--wanted you so much! Why did you not come back sooner?"
Afraid to trouble her brain by the sudden shock of too rapidly
recurring memories, Morgana made no reply, but merely soothed her with
tender caresses, when all at once she made a violent struggle to rise
from the bed.
"I must go!" she cried--"He is calling me! I must follow him--yes, even
if he kills me for it--he is in danger!"
Morgana held her close and firmly.
"Hush, hush, dear!" she murmured--"Be quite still! He is safe--believe
me! He is near you--in the next room!--out of all danger."
"Oh, no, it is not possible!" and the girl's eyes grew wild with
terror--"He cannot be safe!--he is destroying himself! I have followed
him every step of the way--I have watched him,--oh!--so long!--and he
came out of the hut this morning--I was hidden among the trees--he
could not see me--" she broke off, and a violent trembling shook her
whole body. Morgana tried to calm her into silence, but she went on
rambling incoherently. "There was something he carried as though it was
precious to him--something that glittered like gold,--and he went away
quickly--quickly to the canyon,--I followed him like a dog, crawling
through the brushwood--I followed him across the deep water--to the
cave where it was all dark--black as midnight!" She paused--then
suddenly flung her arms round Morgana crying--"Oh, hold me!--hold
me!--I am in this darkness trying to find him!--there!--there!--he
turns and sees me by the light of a lamp he carries; he knows I have
followed him, and he is angry! Oh, dear God, he is angry--he raises his
arm to strike me!" She uttered a smothered shriek, and clung to Morgana
in a kind of frenzy. "No mercy, no pity! That thing that glitters in
his hand--it frightens me--what is it? I kneel to him on the cold
stones--I pray him to forgive me--to come with me--but his arm is still
raised to strike--he does not care--!"
Here a pale horror blanched her features--she drew herself away from
Morgana's hold and put out her hands with the instinctive gesture of
one who tries to escape falling from some great height. Morgana,
alarmed at her looks, caught her again in her arms and held her
tenderly, whereat a faint smile hovered on her lips and her distraught
movements ceased.
"What is this?"--she asked--then murmured--"My little white lady, how
did you come here? How could you cross the flood?--unless on wings?
Ah!--you are a fairy and you can do all you wish to do--but you cannot
save HIM!--it is too late! He will not save himself--and he does not
care,--he does not care--neither for me nor you!"
She drooped her head against Morgana's shoulder and her eyes closed in
utter exhaustion. Morgana laid her back gently on her pillows, and
pouring a few drops of the cordial she had used before, and of which
she had the sole secret, into a wineglassful of water, held it to her
lips. She drank it obediently, evidently conscious now that she was
being cared for. But she was still restless, and presently she sat up
in a listening attitude, one hand uplifted.
"Listen!" she said in a low, awed tone--"Thunder! Do you hear it? God
speaks!"
She lay down again passively and was silent for a long time. The hours
passed and the day grew into late afternoon, and Morgana, patiently
watchful, thought she slept. All suddenly she sprang up, wide-eyed and
alert.
"What was that?" she cried--"I heard him call!"
Morgana, startled by her swift movement, stood transfixed--listening.
The deep tones of a man's voice rang out loudly and defiantly--
"There shall be no more wars! There can be none! I say so! I am Master
of the World!"