"I have a message to give to the Master of the Brotherhood," I
said--"If I am not allowed to deliver it and the gate is shut in my
face, I can only come back again. But I must do my best to gain an
entrance if possible."
And with these words I turned away and commenced my solitary walk. I
had arrived in the early afternoon and the sun was still high in the
heavens,--the heat was intense and the air was absolutely still. As I
climbed higher and higher, the murmuring noises of human life in the
little village I had left behind me grew less and less and presently
sank altogether out of hearing, and I became gradually aware of the
great and solemn solitude that everywhere encompassed me. No stray
sheep browsed on the burnt brown grass of the rocky height I was slowly
ascending--no bird soared through the dazzling deep blue of the vacant
sky. The only sound I could hear was the soft, rhythmic plash of small
waves on the beach below, and an indefinite deeper murmur of the sea
breaking through a cave in the far distance. There was something very
grand in the silence and loneliness of the scene,--and something very
pitiful too, so I thought, about my own self, toiling up the rocky path
in mingled hope and fear towards that grim pile of dark stone towers
and high forbidding walls, where it was just possible I might meet with
but a discouraging reception. Yet with the letter from him who signed
himself 'Your lover' lying against my heart, I felt I had a talisman to
open doors even more closely barred. Nevertheless, my courage gave way
a little when I at last stood before the heavy iron gates set in a
lofty archway of stone through which I could see nothing but cavernous
blackness. The road I had followed ended in a broad circular sweep
opposite this archway, and a few tall pines twisted and gnarled in
bough and stem, as though the full force of many storm winds had
battered and bent them out of their natural shapes, were the only
relief to the barrenness of the ground. An iron chain with a massive
ring at the end suggested itself as the possible means of pulling a
bell or otherwise attracting attention; but for some minutes I had not
the boldness to handle it.
I stood gazing at the frowning portal with a sense of utter loneliness
and desolation,--the quick, resistless impulse that had fired me to
make the journey and which, as it were, had driven me along by its own
impetus, suddenly died away into a dreary consciousness of
inadequateness and folly on my own part,--and I began to reproach
myself for yielding so utterly to the casual influence of one who,
after all, must in a reasonable way be considered a stranger. For what
was Rafel Santoris to me? Merely an old college friend of the man who
for a fortnight had been my host, and with whom he chanced to renew
acquaintanceship during a yachting tour. Anything more simple and
utterly commonplace never occurred,--yet, here was I full of strange
impressions and visions, which were possibly only the result of clever
hypnotism, practised on me because the hypnotist had possibly
discovered in my temperament some suitable 'subject' matter for an
essay of his skill. And I had so readily succumbed to his influence as
to make a journey of hundreds of miles to a place I had never heard of
before on the chance of seeing a man of whom I knew
nothing!--except--that, according to what Rafel Santoris had said of
him, he was the follower of a great psychic Teacher whom once I had
known.
Such doubtful and darkening thoughts as these, chasing one another
rapidly through my brain, made me severely accuse myself of rash and
unpardonable folly in all I had done or was doing,--and I was almost on
the point of turning away and retracing my steps, when a sudden ray of
light, not of the sun, struck itself sharply as it were before my eyes
and hurt them with its blinding glitter. It was like a whip of fire
lashing my hesitating mind, and it startled me into instant action.
Without pausing further to think what I was about, I went straight up
to the entrance of the Chateau and pulled at the iron chain. The gates
swung open at once and swiftly, without sound--and I stepped into the
dark passage within--whereupon they as noiselessly closed again behind
me. There was no going back now,--and nerving myself to resolution, I
walked quickly on through what was evidently a long corridor with a
lofty arched roof of massive stone; it was dark and cool and refreshing
after the great heat outside, and I saw a faint light at the end
towards which I made my way. The light widened as I drew near, and an
exclamation of relief and pleasure escaped me as I suddenly found
myself in a picturesque quadrangle, divided into fair green lawns and
parterres of flowers. Straight opposite me as I approached, a richly
carved double oaken door stood wide open, enabling me to look into a
vast circular domed hall, in the centre of which a fountain sent up
tall silver columns of spray which fell again with a tinkling musical
splash into a sunken pool bordered with white marble, where delicate
pale blue water-lilies floated on the surface of the water. Enchanted
by this glimpse of loveliness, I went straight on and entered without
seeking the right of admission,--and then stood looking about me in
wonder and admiration. If this was the House of Aselzion, where such
difficult lessons had to be learned and such trying ordeals had to be
faced, it certainly did not seem like a house of penance and
mortification but rather of luxury. Exquisite white marble statues were
set around the hall in various niches between banked-up masses of roses
and other blossoms--many of them perfect copies of the classic models,
and all expressing either strength and resolution, or beauty and
repose. And most wonderful of all was the light, that poured in from
the high dome--I could have said with truth that it was like that
'light which never was on sea or land.' It was not the light of the
sun, but something more softened and more intense, and was totally
indescribable.
Fascinated by the restful charm of my surroundings, I seated myself on
a marble bench near the fountain and watched the sparkle of the water
as it rose in rainbow radiance and fell again into the darker shadows
of the pool,--and I had for a moment lost myself in a kind of waking
dream,--so that I started with a shock of something like terror when I
suddenly perceived a figure approaching me,--that of a man, clothed in
white garments fashioned somewhat after the monastic type, yet hardly
to be called a monk's dress, though he wore a sort of hood or cowl
pulled partially over his face. My heart almost stopped beating and I
could scarcely breathe for nervous fear as he came towards me with an
absolutely noiseless tread,--he appeared to be young, and his eyes,
dark and luminous, looked at me kindly and, as I fancied, with a touch
of pity.
"You are seeking the Master?" he enquired, in a gentle voice--"He has
instructed me to receive you, and when you have rested for an hour, to
take you to his presence."
I had risen as he spoke, and his quiet manner helped me to recover
myself a little.
"I am not tired,"--I answered--"I could go to him at once--"
He smiled.
"That is not possible!" he said--"He is not ready. If you will come to
the apartment allotted to you I am sure you will be glad of some
repose. May I ask you to follow me?"
He was perfectly courteous in demeanour, and yet there was a certain
impressive authority about him which silently impelled obedience. I had
nothing further to demand or to suggest, and I followed him at once. He
preceded me out of the domed hall into a long stone passage, where
every sign of luxury, beauty or comfort disappeared in cold vastness,
and where at every few steps large white boards with the word
'Silence!' printed upon them in prominent black letters confronted the
eyes. The way we had to go seemed long and dreary and dungeon-like, but
presently we turned towards an opening where the sun shone through, and
my guide ascended a steep flight of stone stairs, at the top of which
was a massive door of oak, heavily clamped with iron. Taking a key from
his girdle, he unlocked this door, and throwing it open, signed to me
to pass in. I did so, and found myself in a plain stone-walled room
with a vaulted roof, and one very large, lofty, uncurtained window
which looked out upon the sea and sheer down the perpendicular face of
the rock on which the Chateau d'Aselzion was built. The furniture
consisted of one small camp bedstead, a table, and two easy chairs, a
piece of rough matting on the floor near the bed, and a hanging
cupboard for clothes. A well-fitted bathroom adjoined this apartment,
but beyond this there was nothing of modern comfort and certainly no
touch of luxury. I moved instinctively to the window to look out at the
sea,--and then turned to thank my guide for his escort, but he had
gone. Thrilled with a sudden alarm, I ran to the door--it was locked! I
was a prisoner! I stood breathless and amazed;--then a wave of mingled
indignation and terror swept over me. How dared these people restrain
my liberty? I looked everywhere round the room for a bell or some means
of communication by which I could let them know my mind--but there was
nothing to help me. I went to the window again, and finding it was like
a French casement, merely latched in the centre, I quickly unfastened
and threw it open. The scent of the sea rushed at me with a delicious
freshness, reminding me of Loch Scavaig and the 'Dream'--and I leaned
out, looking longingly over the wide expanse of glittering water just
now broken into little crests of foam by a rising breeze. Then I saw
that my room was a kind of turret chamber, projecting itself sheer over
a great wall of rock which evidently had its base in the bed of the
ocean. There was no escape for me that way, even if I had sought it. I
drew back from the window and paced round and round my room like a
trapped animal--angry with myself for having ventured into such a
place, and forgetting entirely my previous determination to go through
all that might happen to me with patience and unflinching nerve.
Presently I sat down on my narrow camp bed and tried to calm myself.
After all, what was the use of my anger or excitement? I had come to
the House of Aselzion of my own wish and will,--and so far I had
endured nothing difficult. Apparently Aselzion was willing to receive
me in his own good time--and I had only to wait the course of events.
Gradually my blood cooled, and in a few minutes I found myself smiling
at my own absurdly useless indignation. True, I was locked up in my own
room like a naughty child, but did it matter so very much? I assured
myself it did not matter at all,--and as I accustomed my mind to this
conviction I became perfectly composed and quite at home in my strange
surroundings. I took off my hat and cloak and put them by--then I went
into the bathroom and refreshed my face with delicious splashes of cold
water. The bathroom possessed a full-length mirror fitted into the
wall, a fact which rather amused me, as I felt it must have been there
always and could not have been put up specially for me, so that it
would seem these mystic 'Brothers' were not without some personal
vanity. I surveyed myself in it with surprise as I took down my hair
and twisted it up again more tidily, for I had expected to look fagged
and tired, whereas my face presented a smiling freshness which was
unexpected and astonishing to myself. The plain black dress I wore was
dusty with travel--and I shook it as free as I could from railway
grimness, feeling that it was scarcely the attire I should have chosen
for an audience of Aselzion.
"However,"--I said to myself--"if he has me locked up like this, and
gives me no chance of sending for my luggage at the inn, I can only
submit and make the best of it."
And returning from the bathroom to the bedroom, I again looked out of
my lofty window across the sea. As I did so, leaning a little over the
ledge, something soft and velvety touched my hand;--it was a red rose
clambering up the turret just within my reach. Its opening petals
lifted themselves towards me like sweet lips turned up for kisses, and
I was for a moment startled, for I could have sworn that no rose of any
kind was there when I first looked out. 'One rose from all the roses in
Heaven!' Where had I heard those words? And what did they signify?
Then--I remembered! Carefully and with extreme tenderness, I bent over
that beautiful, appealing flower:
"I will not gather you!"--I whispered, following the drift of my own
dreaming fancy--"If you are a message--and I think you are I--stay
there as long as you can and talk to me! I shall understand!"
And so for a while we made silent friends with each other till I might
have said with the poet--'The soul of the rose went into my blood.' At
any rate something keen, fine and subtle stole over my senses, moving
me to an intense delight in merely being alive. I forgot that I was in
a strange place among strange men,--I forgot that I was to all intents
and purposes a prisoner--I forgot everything except that I lived, and
that life was ecstasy!
I had no very exact idea of the time,--my watch had stopped. But the
afternoon light was deepening, and long lines of soft amber and crimson
in the sky were beginning to spread a radiant path for the descent of
the sun. While I still remained at the window I suddenly heard the rise
and swell of deep organ music, solemn and sonorous; it was as though
the waves of the sea had set themselves to song. Some instinct then
told me there was someone in the room,--and I turned round quickly to
find my former guide in the white garments standing silently behind me,
waiting. I had intended to complain at once of the way in which I had
been imprisoned as though I were a criminal--but at sight of his grave,
composed figure I lost all my hardihood and could say nothing. I merely
stood still, attendant on his pleasure. His dark eyes, gleaming from
under his white cowl, looked at me with a searching enquiry as though
he expected me to speak, but as I continued to keep silence, he smiled.
"You are very patient!" he said, quietly--"And that is well! The Master
awaits you."
A tremor ran through me, and my heart began to beat violently. I was to
have my wilful desires granted, then! I was actually to see and speak
with the man to whom Rafel Santoris owed his prolonged youth and power,
and under whose training he had passed through an ordeal which had
taught him some of the deepest mysteries of life! The result of my own
wishes seemed now so terrifying to me that I could not have uttered a
word had I tried, I followed my escort in absolute silence;--once in my
nervous agitation I slipped on the stone staircase and nearly fell,--he
at once caught me by the hand and supported me, and the kindness and
gentle strength of his touch renewed my courage. His wonderful eyes
looked steadily into mine.
"Do not be afraid!" he said, in a low tone--"There is really nothing to
fear!"
We passed the domed hall and its sparkling fountain, and in two or
three minutes came to a deep archway veiled by a portiere of some rich
stuff woven in russet brown and gold,--this curtain my guide threw back
noiselessly, showing a closed door. Here he came to a standstill and
waited--I waited with him, trying to be calm, though my mind was in a
perfect tumult of expectation mingled with doubt and dread,--that
closed door seemed to me to conceal some marvellous secret with which
my whole future life and destiny were likely to be involved. Suddenly
it opened,--I saw a beautiful octagonal room, richly furnished, with
the walls lined, so it appeared, from floor to ceiling with books,--one
or two great stands and vases of flowers made flashes of colour among
the shadows, and a quick upward glance showed me that the ceiling was
painted in fresco, then my guide signed to me to enter.
"The Master will be with you in a moment,"--he said--"Please sit
down"--here he gave me an encouraging smile--"You are a little
nervous--try and compose yourself! You need not be at all anxious or
frightened!"
I tried to smile in response, but I felt far more ready to weep. I was
possessed by a sudden hopeless and helpless depression which I could
not overcome. My guide went away at once, and the door closed after him
in the same mysteriously silent fashion in which it had opened. I was
left to myself,--and I sat down on one of the numerous deep easy chairs
which were placed about the room, trying hard to force myself into at
least the semblance of quietude. But, after all, what was the use of
even assuming composure when the man I had come to meet probably had
the power to gauge the whole gamut of a human being's emotion at a
moment's notice? Instinctively I pressed my hand against my heart and
felt the letter my 'lover' had given me--surely that was no dream?
I drew a long breath like a sigh, and turned my eyes towards the
window, which was set in a sort of double arch of stone, and which
showed me a garden stretching far away from the edges of soft lawns and
flower borders into a picturesque vista of woodland and hill. A warmth
of rosy light illumined the fair scene, indicating that the glory of
the sunset had begun. Impulsively I rose to go and look out--then
stopped--checked and held back by a swift compelling awe--I was no
longer alone. I was confronted by the tall commanding figure of a man
wearing the same white garments as those of my guide,--a man whose
singular beauty and dignity of aspect would have enforced admiration
from even the most callous and unobservant--and I knew that I was truly
at last in the presence of Aselzion. Overpowered by this certainty, I
could not speak--I could only look and wonder as he drew near me. His
cowl was thrown back, fully displaying his fine intellectual head--his
eyes, deep blue and full of light, studied my face with a keen scrutiny
which I could FEEL as though it were a searching ray burning into every
nook and cranny of my heart and soul. The blood rushed to my cheeks in
a warm wave--then suddenly rallying my forces I returned him glance for
glance. Thus we moved, each on our own lines of spiritual attraction,
closer together; till presently a slight smile brightened the gravity
of his handsome features, and he extended both hands to me.
"You are welcome!" he said, in a voice that expressed the most perfect
music of human speech--"Rash and undisciplined as you are, you are
welcome!"
Timidly I laid my hands in his, grateful for the warm, strong clasp he
gave them,--then, all at once, hardly knowing how it happened, I sank
on my knees as before some saint or king, silently seeking his
blessing. There was a moment's deep stillness,--and he laid his hands
on my bowed head.
"Poor child!" he said, gently--"You have adventured far for love and
life!--it will be hard if you should fail! May all the powers of God
and Nature help you!"
This said, he raised me with an infinitely courteous kindness, and
placed a chair for me near a massive table-desk on which there were
many papers--some neatly tied up and labelled,--others lying about in
apparent confusion--and when we were both seated he began conversation
in the simplest and easiest fashion.
"You know, of course, that I have been prepared for your arrival
here,"--he said--"by one of my students, Rafel Santoris. He has been
seeking you for a long time, but now he has found you he is hardly
better off--for you are a rebellious child and unwilling to recognise
him--is it not so?"