HOW EAST RULES WEST
It was just past two o’clock the next afternoon, when Constance—who was
busy writing notices for a Church Workers’ Committee—heard a motor stop
outside the gate. Shortly afterwards, heavy footsteps resounded on the
gravel path, and the next moment there was a ring at the bell.
She wondered who it could be—Mr. Brentwood? Hardly. Then who was it?
Her unspoken question was answered by Martha opening the door and
informing her that the dark gentleman from the Manor had called.
Constance was pleasantly surprised. Ever since the night of her dream
she had been cogitating how she could get to see Agar Halfi, and now
the problem had been solved for her by his unexpected call.
“Show him in, please,” she said quickly.
Her blood pulsed a little faster while she waited. She remembered the
last time he had called, how interesting had been their conversation,
and she was conscious of a sense of satisfaction at meeting him again.
As he entered the room, Agar Halfi saluted her respectfully in his
dignified way, and at her request slowly took a seat.
“I understand Mr. Alletson is out?” he inquired.
“Yes,” replied Constance, “and I do not expect him back until late,
that is, tea-time. Can I be of any assistance?”
Why, she did not know; but as soon as he had entered the room,
Constance felt a soothing influence come over her, which had the effect
of making her forget all the small worries of life. It was similar to
the influence which was always with her brother, only in a much greater
degree. It occurred to her as being a little curious, knowing that the
Hindoo was not a Christian. She had always associated such power with
the Church, and to find that it was present, and in a greater degree,
in a non-Christian, set her thinking. Her quick brain immediately
grasped that if this influence could be possessed by a non-Christian,
her idea that it belonged to the Church was wrong. Then to what was
it due? She did not know that it was obtained by inward development
of faculties of which the great majority of people are unconscious,
and that in her brother’s case, he had in a small degree unconsciously
developed them, and in spite of the Church! Then it struck her that
at one time she had thought Mr. Brentwood possessed the same kind of
power, and as she thought over it, she realised that he still possessed
it, though her consciousness of it had been totally obscured by that
other terrible symptom he exhibited.
“I think I can quite well transact my business with you, Miss
Alletson,” replied the Hindoo. “I have called in reply to the letter
your brother wrote to Mr. Brentwood yesterday.”
“Quite so,” she answered; “I am fully aware of its contents.”
“Well,” he continued, “Mr. Brentwood has left the matter in my hands
entirely, and his house is at my disposal, any time I think fit.”
“That is good of him,” she exclaimed, then added: “And you—will you do
it?”
The shadow of a grim smile crossed the Oriental’s face as he said:
“Yes, I will, and I will only make one condition.”
“And that?” queried Constance, holding her breath.
“Is that all the people who have been concerned in this case are
present during the time I am carrying out my work.”
She breathed again, and replied in a cheerful tone:
“I feel that I must thank you on behalf of Mr. Shepperton and my
brother, and I do so most sincerely on my own account.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment, and replied:
“I called in person, Miss Alletson, partly because it is simpler to
make arrangements verbally than by letter, and partly because I wish,
if I may, to see Miss Hobson, so that I shall know exactly how to
prepare for the experiment.”
“There is no difficulty about that—I will take you to her. She was
asleep about half an hour ago, but may be awake now.”
Elsie Hobson was reclining in an easy-chair in the breakfast-room, and
opened her eyes at the sound of them entering. She sat up wonderingly,
with a perplexed expression on her pretty face. Constance went to her,
and said encouragingly:
“Elsie, this gentleman is going to make you better.”
The girl turned her eyes to the Hindoo, who was standing just inside
the door, with a softened expression on his usually set features, and
looked at him earnestly; then, as if satisfied with her scrutiny, she
said to Constance in a puzzled tone:
“Why, I am not ill, am I?”
“No, dear,” replied Constance soothingly. “Not now, but you have lost
your memory, and this gentleman is perhaps going to restore it.”
“Oh, I see,” she answered absently.
Agar Halfi advanced to her chair, and taking one of her listless hands
in his, spoke to her gently. She looked at him simply, like a child,
and as her eyes met his, he stopped speaking, holding her with his
glance. Just for a second, she shrank as if frightened, then a flash of
intelligence crossed her face, and she exclaimed eagerly:
“Yes, I know, I met you ... in ...” she paused, mystified, a look of
disappointment on her countenance, and then continued wearily, “Oh, I
cannot just remember where!”
“Never mind,” he said in a low voice, “you will later on. There is
plenty of time.”
She nodded as if satisfied, though her eyes never left his face. Agar
Halfi gazed at her steadily for several minutes, while Constance
watched with deep interest. Gradually Elsie’s eyes seemed to glaze,
a film appeared over the dark pupils, then, with a restful sigh, she
closed her eyes, and sank back in her chair as though in a peaceful
sleep.
“She is in the hypnotic sleep,” explained the Hindoo, “from which
she will awake in an hour. Keep her as quiet as possible during the
next two days, please, and do not let her eat any meat, nor take any
stimulant.”
“I understand,” replied Constance, “and will carry out your
instructions. What day have you fixed for the experiment?”
“Friday evening, at seven o’clock; that is, the third day from now,
Tuesday.”
“Very well. Now will you please come back to the drawing-room, there is
something about which I want to ask you before you go?”
With a last look at the sleeping girl, he rose and followed Miss
Alletson out. When they were again seated, she looked straight at him
and said:
“Mr. Agar Halfi, a few days ago I had a similar dream to the one I
related to you the last time you called.”
Here she noticed that a quick look of interest came into his eyes, but
he did not speak, so she continued:
“And I should like to tell you all about it.”
“Tell me what you wish,” he answered in his grave way.
She paused, as if to collect her thoughts, and then frankly and clearly
related all that she had seen and heard in her vision. While she spoke,
his dark solemn eyes never left her face, and when she had finished,
she instinctively returned his gaze, while she waited for him to reply.
“Your dream, needless to say, deals with yourself principally, but it
also deals with the ‘Worlstoke Mystery.’ From it, I read that the
matter will be cleared up before the moon is on the wane, but whether
this moon or the next, I cannot say. How it will be settled, it is not
given to us to know, but you may clearly understand that you will be
concerned in it. In the working out of your life on the physical plane,
this mystery in some way forms one of the obstacles, which, if you fail
to overcome it, will retard your development perhaps for centuries! But
in the mystery you are not one of the principal individuals, you are
only drawn into it through another.
“The first symbol of the vision, the figure 18, is that of destruction,
and needs no further explanation. The second symbol, the figure 22, is
that of the perfect state, or the harmony of oneself with the universe.
But understand that the overcoming of this present obstacle will not
take you straight away to that plane. No person living on the earth
could attain perfection straight away.
“The advice, ‘Be true to yourself,’ if properly understood, is all that
is necessary for you to succeed.”
While she listened, it seemed to Constance as if her eyes were
opened, and she realised that which before she had only believed. The
man who sat before her was a Mystic, one of that little known and
less understood section of humanity, which, devoting itself to the
advancement of the world through the Occult, had made their labours
effective in the evolution of life, though not generally recognised.
She had read of such men once or twice, but to her knowledge had not
met one before.
“Can you tell me anything of that which is to be revealed to me?”
“No, on that point I must not speak.”
She looked at him steadily, as he answered, and his deep dark eyes
seemed to glow with a strange light. Then, instantaneously, almost
before she knew it had happened, she was conscious that she beheld
the man, the true inner self, radiating with a soft white fire, so
dazzling, that it seemed to scorch her through and through.
With a startled cry, she hid her face in her hands, and in that moment,
she suffered, and understood how small, how feebly flickered the
undeveloped spark of life which was her conscious self. As she realised
this, the vastness of the eternal universe gripped her mind,—how
insignificant she was, how helpless!
“Save me!” she cried wildly, “Save me!” and the echo reverberated like
thunder in the lonely darkness, “Save me!” “Save me!” as though mocking
her pitiful cry.
She felt a strong hand grasp her own, and a friendly tender voice said:
“Save yourself, child.”
Then she regained normal consciousness, and knew that she was sitting
in a chair, staring tranquilly at Agar Halfi, who sat with legs
crossed, his hands clasping his knee, looking at her intently.
“What has happened?” she asked absently, “Ah! I remember, you were
interpreting my dream, and all at once I forgot. Had you finished?”
“I have nothing more to say concerning it,” he replied. “Have you
anything you wish to ask?”
Constance shook her head, and looked meditatively at the carpet. Then
impulsively she raised her head and exclaimed:
“Tell me, Mr. Agar Halfi, what is the meaning of life? Sometimes, as
I go through its details day by day, a great fear presses on me that
after all we are but helpless atoms, drifting in a vast scheme, and
that our self-conscious individuality is but a phantasm, non-existent!”
A great sorrow came into his face as he replied:
“It is quite impossible, Miss Alletson, for any human being to answer
your question. What you express is the cry of your real self, seeking
escape from its clay prison, the narrow walls of which can no longer
satisfy your inward growth. So sure as all individuals must some time
or other save themselves, so surely must they find the answer to that
question, by their own efforts. The physical individuality cannot
explain it—the brain has its limits, and to our reason such a question
is impossible of reply.”
“Then must each one struggle to gain his or her salvation, every one
fight selfishly for themselves? That is what your answer seems to
imply.”
“Just the reverse. I am not a Christian, Miss Alletson, yet I will
quote from the Bible in support of what I say: ‘Whosoever shall seek to
save his life shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose his life shall
preserve it.’ It is only by sacrificing oneself in the service of
humanity that salvation—or more truly speaking the upward development
of the conscious self—can be achieved!”
“But, Mr. Agar Halfi, life in general is not based upon such lines. The
sordid struggle for material gain dominates humanity, and, based on
reason, humanity says: “It is the law of nature, this ‘survival of the
fittest,’ and therefore, we being part of nature, are bound by it.”
“What you say is largely true, the trend of the world to-day is for
material gain. But surely, if slowly, humanity is finding out its
mistake, and though to-day civilisation is based on wrong conceptions
and little understood laws, it will not always be so. We are
discovering that instead of having to abide by the laws of nature, we
are here to subdue nature to our will. Mankind has changed, compared
with, say, 4000 years ago, changed with the knowledge and powers it
has gained, and will continue to do so, until the ideas of to-day are
largely reversed.”
“You speak emphatically,” answered Constance, “as though you knew for
certain!”
“I can only speak from my own knowledge,” he replied simply. “From
where I stand, I can see the mistakes of to-day, as surely as present
mankind can see and profit by the mistakes of its forebears.”
Constance listened intently, wondering at this strange man, and she
smiled to herself as she thought that he was the servant of an English
gentleman. There was something queer about that, which she felt she
would like to know. But then, it was not her business to inquire.
“When you say, ‘From where I stand,’ I am afraid I do not comprehend.”
“That is difficult for me to explain, Miss Alletson, yet if I say to
you that the more spiritually developed a human being becomes, the
less does he require material things, then have I told you all. For as
humanity becomes more spiritual, so will material things of the earth
become of little importance. Is it not a fact that the most spiritual,
the grandest and most beloved figure in Christianity, thought less of
the things of the world than anyone? He, the Master Magician!”
“Of course you speak of Jesus of Nazareth?” she said in a low voice,
then added: “And why do you speak of Him as ‘The Master Magician’?”
“Simply because He had greater control over the forces of nature than
any man ever had before Him, and so far ever has had!”
“You speak of Him as a man; don’t you think he was Divine?”
The Hindoo shrugged his shoulders, with a little gesture of despair:
“We are all divine, Miss Alletson, in that sense.”
There was a pause—Constance did not want to pursue the matter any
further just then. What the Hindoo had said gave her much food for
thought, and she would think things out at her leisure.
At length she said:
“Let me see, you said Friday was the day you had fixed for the
experiment?”
“Yes,” he answered, “at seven o’clock in the evening, at the Manor. Mr.
Brentwood will come over with his car, and take you all there. I shall
not be able to come, owing to the preparations I must make beforehand.”
“Do you think you will succeed?”
He smiled strangely, as he replied:
“I have not many doubts, Miss Alletson, and yet I fear trouble; why, I
cannot say. Now I think I have said all that is necessary, and I will
depart.”
Rising, he wished her good afternoon, but before he reached the door
Constance arrested his attention:
“Oh, Mr. Agar Halfi, I really forgot to tell you. The last time you
came here, you will remember, I was very much out of sorts, and
you told me that I should feel better before three o’clock in the
afternoon. Well, it was so. I felt practically recovered about an hour
after lunch. Please accept my sincere thanks.”
“For what, Miss Alletson?” he asked questioningly.
She hesitated a little, then said frankly, “Well, I feel sure that it
was you who did me good, in some way.”
“I apologise,” he answered quickly, “I was not thinking. I understand
now. It is true that indirectly I cured your indisposition, but I had
forgotten it.”
“How indirectly?” she queried.
“You were suffering from a slight shock, which deprived you of normal
vitality, left you run down, and listless. Coming in contact with
my surroundings, and there being a sympathetic link between us, I
naturally gave forth from my reserve, of which there is a considerable
quantity, and you as naturally absorbed it. Simply that, and nothing
else occurred.”
She looked at him astonished, so he continued:
“It is easy of proof, Miss Alletson—give me your hand for a moment.”
She did as he asked, and slowly, but surely, she was conscious of
increased energy; she felt stronger, more vigorous.
“Do you feel any change?”
“Yes, I do; it is wonderful. How pleasant to have power to relieve
suffering like that!”
The Hindoo smiled queerly, as he answered in a low voice:
“Yes, but it can be used for other purposes—it is strong enough to
kill!”
“Kill?” she whispered in an awed voice.
But Agar Halfi had gone, and the next moment she heard the motor car
drive slowly away.