To those who are ignorant of, or indifferent to, the psychic forces
working behind all humanity and creating the causes which evolve into
effect, it cannot but seem strange,--even eccentric and abnormal,--that
any one person, or any two persons for that matter, should take the
trouble to try and ascertain the immediate intention and ultimate
object of their lives. The daily routine of ordinary working, feeding
and sleeping existence, varied by little social conventions and
obligations which form a kind of break to the persistent monotony of
the regular treadmill round, should be, they think, sufficient for any
sane, well-balanced, self-respecting creature,--and if a man or woman
elects to stand out of the common ruck and say: "I refuse to live in a
chaos of uncertainties--I will endeavour to know why my particular atom
of self is considered a necessary, if infinitesimal, part of the
Universe,"--such an one is looked upon with either distrust or
derision. In matters of love especially, where the most ill-assorted
halves persist in fitting themselves together as if they could ever
make a perfect whole, a woman is considered foolish if she gives her
affections where it is 'not expedient'--and a man is looked upon as
having 'ruined his career' if he allows a great passion to dominate
him, instead of a calm, well-weighed, respectable sort of sentiment
which has its fitting end in an equally calm, well-weighed, respectable
marriage. These are the laws and observances of social order, excellent
in many respects, but frequently responsible for a great bulk of the
misery attendant upon many forms of human relationship. It is not,
however, possible to the ordinary mind to realise that somewhere and
somehow, every two component parts of a whole MUST come together,
sooner or later, and that herein may be found the key to most of the
great love tragedies of the world. The wrong halves mated,--the right
halves finding each other out and rushing together recklessly and
inopportunely because of the resistless Law which draws them
together,--this is the explanation of many a life's disaster and
despair, as well as of many a life's splendid attainment and victory.
And the trouble or the triumph, whichever it be, will never be lessened
till human beings learn that in love, which is the greatest and most
divine Force on earth or in heaven, the Soul, not the body, must first
be considered, and that no one can fulfil the higher possibilities of
his or her nature, till each individual unit is conjoined with that
only other portion of itself which is as one with it in thought and in
the intuitive comprehension of its higher needs.
I knew all this well enough, and had known it for years, and it was
hardly necessary for me to dwell upon it, as I sat alone in my cabin
that night, too restless to sleep, and, almost too uneasy even to
think. What had happened to me was simply that I had by a curious
chance or series of chances been brought into connection again with the
individual Soul of a man whom I had known and loved ages ago. To the
psychist, such a circumstance does not seem as strange as it is to the
great majority of people who realise no greater force than Matter, and
who have no comprehension of Spirit, and no wish to comprehend it,
though even the dullest of these often find themselves brought into
contact with persons whom they feel they have met and known before, and
are unable to understand why they receive such an impression. In my
case I had not only to consider the one particular identity which
seemed so closely connected with my own--but also the other individuals
with whom I had become more or less reluctantly associated,--Catherine
Harland and Dr. Brayle especially. Mr. Harland had, unconsciously to
himself, been merely the link to bring the broken bits of a chain
together--his secretary, Mr. Swinton, occupied the place of the always
necessary nonentity in a group of intellectually or psychically
connected beings,--and I was perfectly sure, without having any actual
reason for my conviction, that if I remained much longer in Catherine
Harland's company, her chance liking for me would turn into the old
hatred with which she had hated me in a bygone time,--a hatred fostered
by Dr. Brayle, who, plainly scheming to marry her and secure her
fortune, considered me in the way (as I was) of the influence he
desired to exercise over her and her father. Therefore it seemed
necessary I should remove myself,--moreover, I was resolved that all
the years I had spent in trying to find the way to some of Nature's
secrets should not be wasted--I would learn, I too, what Rafel Santoris
had learned in the House of Aselzion--and then we might perhaps stand
on equal ground, sure of ourselves and of each other! So ran my
thoughts in the solitude and stillness of the night--a solitude and
stillness so profound that the gentle push of the water against the
sides of the yacht, almost noiseless as it was, sounded rough and
intrusive. My port-hole was open, and I could see the sinking moon
showing through it like a white face in sorrow. Just then I heard a low
splash as of oars. I started up and went to the sofa, where, by
kneeling on the cushions. I could look through the porthole. There,
gliding just beneath me, was a small boat, and my heart gave a sudden
leap of joy as I recognised the man who rowed it as Santoris. He smiled
as I looked down,--then, standing up in the boat, guided himself
alongside, till his head was nearly on a level with the port-hole. He
put one hand on its edge.
"Not asleep yet!" he said, softly--"What have you been thinking of? The
moon and the sea?--or any other mystery as deep and incomprehensible?"
I stretched out my hand and laid it on his with an involuntary
caressing touch.
"I could not leave you without another last word,"--he said--"And I
have brought you a letter"--he gave me a sealed envelope as he
spoke--"which will tell you how to find Aselzion. I myself will write
to him also and prepare him for your arrival. When you do see him you
will understand how difficult is the task you wish to undertake,--and,
if you should fail, the failure will be a greater sadness to yourself
than to me--for I could make things easier for you--"
"I do not want things made easy for me,"--I answered quickly--"I want
to do all that you have done--I want to prove myself worthy at least--"