AYESHA
THE RETURN OF SHE
BY
H. RIDER HAGGARD
"Here ends this history so far as it concerns science and the
outside world. What its end will be as regards Leo and myself is
more than I can guess. But we feel that it is not reached. . . .
Often I sit alone at night, staring with the eyes of my mind into
the blackness of unborn time, and wondering in what shape and form
the great drama will be finally developed, and where the scene of
its next act will be laid. And when, ultimately, that /final/
development occurs, as I have no doubt it must and will occur, in
obedience to a fate that never swerves and a purpose which cannot
be altered, what will be the part played therein by that beautiful
Egyptian Amenar-tas, the Princess of the royal house of the
Pharaohs, for the love of whom the priest Kallikrates broke his
vows to Isis, and, pursued by the vengeance of the outraged
goddess, fled down the coast of Lybia to meet his doom at Kor?"--
/She/, Silver Library Edition, p. 277.
DEDICATION
My dear Lang,
The appointed years--alas! how many of them--are gone by, leaving
Ayesha lovely and loving and ourselves alive. As it was promised
in the Caves of Kor /She/ has returned again.
To you therefore who accepted the first, I offer this further
history of one of the various incarnations of that Immortal.
My hope is that after you have read her record, notwithstanding
her subtleties and sins and the shortcomings of her chronicler (no
easy office!) you may continue to wear your chain of "loyalty to
our lady Ayesha." Such, I confess, is still the fate of your old
friend
H. RIDER HAGGARD.
DITCHINGHAM, 1905.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Not with a view of conciliating those readers who on principle
object to sequels, but as a matter of fact, the Author wishes to
say that he does not so regard this book.
Rather does he venture to ask that it should be considered as the
conclusion of an imaginative tragedy (if he may so call it)
whereof one half has been already published.
This conclusion it was always his desire to write should he be
destined to live through those many years which, in obedience to
his original design, must be allowed to lapse between the events
of the first and second parts of the romance.
In response to many enquiries he may add that the name Ayesha,
which since the days of the prophet Mahomet, who had a wife so
called, and perhaps before them, has been common in the East,
should be pronounced /Assha/.
INTRODUCTION
Verily and indeed it is the unexpected that happens! Probably if there
was one person upon the earth from whom the Editor of this, and of a
certain previous history, did not expect to hear again, that person
was Ludwig Horace Holly. This, too, for a good reason; he believed him
to have taken his departure from the earth.
When Mr. Holly last wrote, many, many years ago, it was to transmit
the manuscript of /She/, and to announce that he and his ward, Leo
Vincey, the beloved of the divine Ayesha, were about to travel to
Central Asia in the hope, I suppose, that there she would fulfil her
promise and appear to them again.
Often I have wondered, idly enough, what happened to them there;
whether they were dead, or perhaps droning their lives away as monks
in some Thibetan Lamasery, or studying magic and practising asceticism
under the tuition of the Eastern Masters trusting that thus they would
build a bridge by which they might pass to the side of their adored
Immortal.
Now at length, when I had not thought of them for months, without a
single warning sign, out of the blue as it were, comes the answer to
these wonderings!
To think--only to think--that I, the Editor aforesaid, from its
appearance suspecting something quite familiar and without interest,
pushed aside that dingy, unregistered, brown-paper parcel directed in
an unknown hand, and for two whole days let it lie forgotten. Indeed
there it might be lying now, had not another person been moved to
curiosity, and opening it, found within a bundle of manuscript badly
burned upon the back, and with this two letters addressed to myself.
Although so great a time had passed since I saw it, and it was shaky
now because of the author's age or sickness, I knew the writing at
once--nobody ever made an "H" with that peculiar twirl under it except
Mr. Holly. I tore open the sealed envelope, and sure enough the first
thing my eye fell upon was the signature, /L. H. Holly/. It is long
since I read anything so eagerly as I did that letter. Here it is:--
"My dear sir,--I have ascertained that you still live, and strange
to say I still live also--for a little while.
"As soon as I came into touch with civilization again I found a
copy of your book /She/, or rather of my book, and read it--first
of all in a Hindostani translation. My host--he was a minister of
some religious body, a man of worthy but prosaic mind--expressed
surprise that a 'wild romance' should absorb me so much. I
answered that those who have wide experience of the hard facts of
life often find interest in romance. Had he known what were the
hard facts to which I alluded, I wonder what that excellent person
would have said?
"I see that you carried out your part of the business well and
faithfully. Every instruction has been obeyed, nothing has been
added or taken away. Therefore, to you, to whom some twenty years
ago I entrusted the beginning of the history, I wish to entrust
its end also. You were the first to learn of /She-Who-Must-Be-
Obeyed/, who from century to century sat alone, clothed with
unchanging loveliness in the sepulchres of Kor, waiting till her
lost love was born again, and Destiny brought him back to her.
"It is right, therefore, that you should be the first to learn also
of Ayesha, Hesea and Spirit of the Mountain, the priestess of that
Oracle which since the time of Alexander the Great has reigned
between the flaming pillars in the Sanctuary, the last holder of
the sceptre of Hes or Isis upon the earth. It is right also that
to you first among men I should reveal the mystic consummation of
the wondrous tragedy which began at Kor, or perchance far earlier
in Egypt and elsewhere.
"I am very ill; I have struggled back to this old house of mine to
die, and my end is at hand. I have asked the doctor here, after
all is over, to send you the Record, that is unless I change my
mind and burn it first. You will also receive, if you receive
anything at all, a case containing several rough sketches which
may be of use to you, and a /sistrum/, the instrument that has
been always used in the worship of the Nature goddesses of the old
Egyptians, Isis and Hathor, which you will see is as beautiful as
it is ancient. I give it to you for two reasons; as a token of my
gratitude and regard, and as the only piece of evidence that is
left to me of the literal truth of what I have written in the
accompanying manuscript, where you will find it often mentioned.
Perhaps also you will value it as a souvenir of, I suppose, the
strangest and loveliest being who ever was, or rather, is. It was
her sceptre, the rod of her power, with which I saw her salute the
Shadows in the Sanctuary, and her gift to me.
"It has virtues also; some part of Ayesha's might yet haunts the
symbol to which even spirits bowed, but if you should discover
them, beware how they are used.
"I have neither the strength nor the will to write more. The Record
must speak for itself. Do with it what you like, and believe it or
not as you like. I care nothing who know that it is true.
"Who and what was Ayesha, nay, what /is/ Ayesha? An incarnate
essence, a materialised spirit of Nature the unforeseeing, the
lovely, the cruel and the immortal; ensouled alone, redeemable
only by Humanity and its piteous sacrifice? Say you! I have done
with speculations who depart to solve these mysteries.
"/I/ wish you happiness and good fortune. Farewell to you and to
all.
"L. Horace Holly."
I laid the letter down, and, filled with sensations that it is useless
to attempt to analyse or describe, opened the second envelope, of
which I also print the contents, omitting only certain irrelevant
portions, and the name of the writer as, it will be noted, he requests
me to do.
This epistle, that was dated from a remote place upon the shores of
Cumberland, ran as follows:--
"Dear sir,--As the doctor who attended Mr. Holly in his last
illness I am obliged, in obedience to a promise that I made to
him, to become an intermediary in a some what strange business,
although in truth it is one of which I know very little, however
much it may have interested me. Still I do so only on the strict
understanding that no mention is to be made of my name in
connexion with the matter, or of the locality in which I practise.
"About ten days ago I was called in to see Mr. Holly at an old
house upon the Cliff that for many years remained untenanted
except by the caretakers, which house was his property, and had
been in his family for generations. The housekeeper who summoned
me told me that her master had but just returned from abroad,
somewhere in Asia, she said, and that he was very ill with his
heart--dying, she believed; both of which suppositions proved to
be accurate.
"I found the patient sitting up in bed (to ease his heart), and a
strange-looking old man he was. He had dark eyes, small but full
of fire and intelligence, a magnificent and snowy-white beard that
covered a chest of extraordinary breadth, and hair also white,
which encroached upon his forehead and face so much that it met
the whiskers upon his cheeks. His arms were remarkable for their
length and strength, though one of them seemed to have been much
torn by some animal. He told me that a dog had done this, but if
so it must have been a dog of unusual power. He was a very ugly
man, and yet, forgive the bull, beautiful. I cannot describe what
I mean better than by saying that his face was not like the face
of any ordinary mortal whom I have met in my limited experience.
Were I an artist who wished to portray a wise and benevolent, but
rather grotesque spirit, I should take that countenance as a
model.
"Mr. Holly was somewhat vexed at my being called in, which had been
done without his knowledge. Soon we became friendly enough,
however, and he expressed gratitude for the relief that I was able
to give him, though I could not hope to do more. At different
times he talked a good deal of the various countries in which he
had travelled, apparently for very many years, upon some strange
quest that he never clearly denned to me. Twice also he became
light-headed, and spoke, for the most part in languages that I
identified as Greek and Arabic; occasionally in English also, when
he appeared to be addressing himself to a being who was the object
of his veneration, I might almost say of his worship. What he said
then, however, I prefer not to repeat, for I heard it in my
professional capacity.
"One day he pointed to a rough box made of some foreign wood (the
same that I have now duly despatched to you by train), and, giving
me your name and address, said that without fail it was to be
forwarded to you after his death. Also he asked me to do up a
manuscript, which, like the box, was to be sent to you.
"He saw me looking at the last sheets, which had been burned away,
and said (I repeat his exact words)--
"'Yes, yes, that can't be helped now, it must go as it is. You see
I made up my mind to destroy it after all, and it was already on
the fire when the command came--the clear, unmistakable command--
and I snatched it off again.'
"What Mr. Holly meant by this 'command' I do not know, for he would
speak no more of the matter.
"I pass on to the last scene. One night about eleven o'clock,
knowing that my patient's end was near, I went up to see him,
proposing to inject some strychnine to keep the heart going a
little longer. Before I reached the house I met the caretaker
coming to seek me in a great fright, and asked her if her master
was dead. She answered No; but he was /gone/--had got out of bed
and, just as he was, barefooted, left the house, and was last seen
by her grandson among the very Scotch firs where we were talking.
The lad, who was terrified out of his wits, for he thought that he
beheld a ghost, had told her so.
"The moonlight was very brilliant that night, especially as fresh
snow had fallen, which reflected its rays. I was on foot, and
began to search among the firs, till presently just outside of
them I found the track of naked feet in the snow. Of course I
followed, calling to the housekeeper to go and wake her husband,
for no one else lives near by. The spoor proved very easy to trace
across the clean sheet of snow. It ran up the slope of a hill
behind the house.
"Now, on the crest of this hill is an ancient monument of upright
monoliths set there by some primeval people, known locally as the
Devil's Ring--a sort of miniature Stonehenge in fact. I had seen
it several times, and happened to have been present not long ago
at a meeting of an archaeological society when its origin and
purpose were discussed. I remember that one learned but somewhat
eccentric gentleman read a short paper upon a rude, hooded bust
and head that are cut within the chamber of a tall, flat-topped
cromlech, or dolmen, which stands alone in the centre of the ring.
"He said that it was a representation of the Egyptian goddess,
Isis, and that this place had once been sacred to some form of her
worship, or at any rate to that of a Nature goddess with like
attributes, a suggestion which the other learned gentlemen treated
as absurd. They declared that Isis had never travelled into
Britain, though for my part I do not see why the Phoenicians, or
even the Romans, who adopted her cult, more or less, should not
have brought it here. But I know nothing of such matters and will
not discuss them.
"I remembered also that Mr. Holly was acquainted with this place,
for he had mentioned it to me on the previous day, asking if the
stones were still uninjured as they used to be when he was young.
He added also, and the remark struck me, that yonder was where he
would wish to die. When I answered that I feared he would never
take so long a walk again, I noted that he smiled a little.
"Well, this conversation gave me a clue, and without troubling more
about the footprints I went on as fast as I could to the Ring,
half a mile or so away. Presently I reached it, and there--yes,
there--standing by the cromlech, bareheaded, and clothed in his
night-things only, stood Mr. Holly in the snow, the strangest
figure, I think, that ever I beheld.
"Indeed never shall I forget that wild scene. The circle of rough,
single stones pointing upwards to the star-strewn sky, intensely
lonely and intensely solemn: the tall trilithon towering above
them in the centre, its shadow, thrown by the bright moon behind
it, lying long and black upon the dazzling sheet of snow, and,
standing clear of this shadow so that I could distinguish his
every motion, and even the rapt look upon his dying face, the
white-draped figure of Mr. Holly. He appeared to be uttering some
invocation--in Arabic, I think--for long before I reached him I
could catch the tones of his full, sonorous voice, and see his
waving, outstretched arms. In his right hand he held the looped
sceptre which, by his express wish I send to you with the
drawings. I could see the flash of the jewels strung upon the
wires, and in the great stillness, hear the tinkling of its golden
bells.
"Presently, too, I seemed to become aware of another presence, and
now you will understand why I desire and must ask that my identity
should be suppressed. Naturally enough I do not wish to be mixed
up with a superstitious tale which is, on the face of it,
impossible and absurd. Yet under all the circumstances I think it
right to tell you that I saw, or thought I saw, something gather
in the shadow of the central dolmen, or emerge from its rude
chamber--I know not which for certain--something bright and
glorious which gradually took the form of a woman upon whose
forehead burned a star-like fire.
"At any rate the vision or reflection, or whatever it was, startled
me so much that I came to a halt under the lee of one of the
monoliths, and found myself unable even to call to the distraught
man whom I pursued.
"Whilst I stood thus it became clear to me that Mr. Holly also saw
something. At least he turned towards the Radiance in the shadow,
uttered one cry; a wild, glad cry, and stepped forward; then
seemed to fall /through it/ on to his face.
"When I reached the spot the light had vanished, and all I found
was Mr. Holly, his arms still outstretched, and the sceptre
gripped tightly in his hand, lying quite dead in the shadow of the
trilithon."
The rest of the doctor's letter need not be quoted as it deals only
with certain very improbable explanations of the origin of this figure
of light, the details of the removal of Holly's body, and of how he
managed to satisfy the coroner that no inquest was necessary.
The box of which he speaks arrived safely. Of the drawings in it I
need say nothing, and of the /sistrum/ or sceptre only a few words. It
was fashioned of crystal to the well-known shape of the /Crux-ansata/,
or the emblem of life of the Egyptians; the rod, the cross and the
loop combined in one. From side to side of this loop ran golden wires,
and on these were strung gems of three colours, glittering diamonds,
sea-blue sapphires, and blood-red rubies, while to the fourth wire,
that at the top, hung four little golden bells.
When I took hold of it first my arm shook slightly with excitement,
and those bells began to sound; a sweet, faint music like to that of
chimes heard far away at night in the silence of the sea. I thought
too, but perhaps this was fancy, that a thrill passed from the
hallowed and beautiful thing into my body.
On the mystery itself, as it is recorded in the manuscript, I make no
comment. Of it and its inner significations every reader must form his
or her own judgment. One thing alone is clear to me--on the hypothesis
that Mr. Holly tells the truth as to what he and Leo Vincey saw and
experienced, which I at least believe--that though sundry
interpretations of this mystery were advanced by Ayesha and others,
none of them are quite satisfactory.
Indeed, like Mr. Holly, I incline to the theory that She, if I may
still call her by that name although it is seldom given to her in
these pages, put forward some of them, such as the vague Isis-myth,
and the wondrous picture-story of the Mountain-fire, as mere veils to
hide the truth which it was her purpose to reveal at last in that song
she never sang.
The Editor.
AYESHA
The Further History of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed
CHAPTER I
THE DOUBLE SIGN
Hard on twenty years have gone by since that night of Leo's vision--
the most awful years, perhaps, which were ever endured by men--twenty
years of search and hardship ending in soul-shaking wonder and
amazement.
My death is very near to me, and of this I am glad, for I desire to
pursue the quest in other realms, as it has been promised to me that I
shall do. I desire to learn the beginning and the end of the spiritual
drama of which it has been my strange lot to read some pages upon
earth.
I, Ludwig Horace Holly, have been very ill; they carried me, more dead
than alive, down those mountains whose lowest slopes I can see from my
window, for I write this on the northern frontiers of India. Indeed
any other man had long since perished, but Destiny kept my breath in
me, perhaps that a record might remain. I, must bide here a month or
two till I am strong enough to travel homewards, for I have a fancy to
die in the place where I was born. So while I have strength I will put
the story down, or at least those parts of it that are most essential,
for much can, or at any rate must, be omitted. I shrink from
attempting too long a book, though my notes and memory would furnish
me with sufficient material for volumes.
I will begin with the Vision.
After Leo Vincey and I came back from Africa in 1885, desiring
solitude, which indeed we needed sorely to recover from the fearful
shock we had experienced, and to give us time and opportunity to
think, we went to an old house upon the shores of Cumberland that has
belonged to my family for many generations. This house, unless
somebody has taken it believing me to be dead, is still my property
and thither I travel to die.
Those whose eyes read the words I write, if any should ever read them,
may ask--What shock?
Well, I am Horace Holly, and my companion, my beloved friend, my son
in the spirit whom I reared from infancy was--nay, is--Leo Vincey.
We are those men who, following an ancient clue, travelled to the
Caves of Kor in Central Africa, and there discovered her whom we
sought, the immortal /She-who-must-be-obeyed/. In Leo she found her
love, that re-born Kallikrates, the Grecian priest of Isis whom some
two thousand years before she had slain in her jealous rage, thus
executing on him the judgment of the angry goddess. In her also I
found the divinity whom I was doomed to worship from afar, not with
the flesh, for that is all lost and gone from me, but, what is sorer
still, because its burden is undying, with the will and soul which
animate a man throughout the countless eons of his being. The flesh
dies, or at least it changes, and its passions pass, but that other
passion of the spirit--that longing for oneness--is undying as itself.
What crime have I committed that this sore punishment should be laid
upon me? Yet, in truth, is it a punishment? May it not prove to be but
that black and terrible Gate which leads to the joyous palace of
Rewards? She swore that I should ever be her friend and his and dwell
with them eternally, and I believe her.
For how many winters did we wander among the icy hills and deserts!
Still, at length, the Messenger came and led us to the Mountain, and
on the Mountain we found the Shrine, and in the Shrine the Spirit. May
not these things be an allegory prepared for our instruction? I will
take comfort. I will hope that it is so. Nay, I am sure that it is so.
It will be remembered that in Kor we found the immortal woman. There
before the flashing rays and vapours of the Pillar of Life she
declared her mystic love, and then in our very sight was swept to a
doom so horrible that even now, after all which has been and gone, I
shiver at its recollection. Yet what were Ayesha's last words?
"/Forget me not . . . have pity on my shame. I die not. I shall come
again and shall once more be beautiful. I swear it--it is true./"
Well, I cannot set out that history afresh. Moreover it is written;
the man whom I trusted in the matter did not fail me, and the book he
made of it seems to be known throughout the world, for I have found it
here in English, yes, and read it first translated into Hindostani. To
it then I refer the curious.
In that house upon the desolate sea-shore of Cumberland, we dwelt a
year, mourning the lost, seeking an avenue by which it might be found
again and discovering none. Here our strength came back to us, and
Leo's hair, that had been whitened in the horror of the Caves, grew
again from grey to golden. His beauty returned to him also, so that
his face was as it had been, only purified and saddened.
Well I remember that night--and the hour of illumination. We were
heart-broken, we were in despair. We sought signs and could find none.
The dead remained dead to us and no answer came to all our crying.
It was a sullen August evening, and after we had dined we walked upon
the shore, listening to the slow surge of the waves and watching the
lightning flicker from the bosom of a distant cloud. In silence we
walked, till at last Leo groaned--it was more of a sob than a groan--
and clasped my arm.
"I can bear it no longer, Horace," he said--for so he called me
now--"I am in torment. The desire to see Ayesha once more saps my
brain. Without hope I shall go quite mad. And I am strong, I may live
another fifty years."
"What then can you do?" I asked.
"I can take a short road to knowledge--or to peace," he answered
solemnly, "I can die, and die I will--yes, tonight."
I turned upon him angrily, for his words filled me with fear.
"Leo, you are a coward!" I said. "Cannot you bear your part of pain as
--others do?"
"You mean as you do, Horace," he answered with a dreary laugh, "for on
you also the curse lies--with less cause. Well, you are stronger than
I am, and more tough; perhaps because you have lived longer. No, I
cannot bear it. I will die."
"It is a crime," I said, "the greatest insult you can offer to the
Power that made you, to cast back its gift of life as a thing outworn,
contemptible and despised. A crime, I say, which will bring with it
worse punishment than any you can dream; perhaps even the punishment
of everlasting separation."
"Does a man stretched in some torture-den commit a crime if he
snatches a knife and kills himself, Horace? Perhaps; but surely that
sin should find forgiveness--if torn flesh and quivering nerves may
plead for mercy. I am such a man, and I will use that knife and take
my chance. She is dead, and in death at least I shall be nearer her."
"Why so, Leo? For aught you know Ayesha may be living."
"No; for then she would have given me some sign. My mind is made up,
so talk no more, or, if talk we must, let it be of other things."
Then I pleaded with him, though with little hope, for I saw that what
I had feared for long was come to pass. Leo was mad: shock and sorrow
had destroyed his reason. Were it not so, he, in his own way a very
religious man, one who held, as I knew, strict opinions on such
matters, would never have purposed to commit the wickedness of
suicide.
"Leo," I said, "are you so heartless that you would leave me here
alone? Do you pay me thus for all my love and care, and wish to drive
me to my death? Do so if you will, and my blood be on your head."
"Your blood! Why your blood, Horace?"
"Because that road is broad and two can travel it. We have lived long
years together and together endured much; I am sure that we shall not
be long parted."
Then the tables were turned and he grew afraid for me. But I only
answered, "If you die I tell you that I shall die also. It will
certainly kill me."
So Leo gave way. "Well," he exclaimed suddenly, "I promise you it
shall not be to-night. Let us give life another chance."
"Good," I answered; but I went to my bed full of fear. For I was
certain that this desire of death, having once taken hold of him,
would grow and grow, until at length it became too strong, and then--
then I should wither and die who could not live on alone. In my
despair I threw out my soul towards that of her who was departed.
"Ayesha!" I cried, "if you have any power, if in any way it is
permitted, show that you still live, and save your lover from this sin
and me from a broken heart. Have pity on his sorrow and breathe hope
into his spirit, for without hope Leo cannot live, and without him I
shall not live."
Then, worn out, I slept.
I was aroused by the voice of Leo speaking to me in low, excited tones
through the darkness.
"Horace," he said, "Horace, my friend, my father, listen!"
In an instant I was wide awake, every nerve and fibre of me, for the
tones of his voice told me that something had happened which bore upon
our destinies.
"Let me light a candle first," I said.
"Never mind the candle, Horace; I would rather speak in the dark. I
went to sleep, and I dreamed the most vivid dream that ever came to
me. I seemed to stand under the vault of heaven, it was black, black,
not a star shone in it, and a great loneliness possessed me. Then
suddenly high up in the vault, miles and miles away, I saw a little
light and thought that a planet had appeared to keep me company. The
light began to descend slowly, like a floating flake of fire. Down it
sank, and down and down, till it was but just above me, and I
perceived that it was shaped like a tongue or fan of flame. At the
height of my head from the ground it stopped and stood steady, and by
its ghostly radiance I saw that beneath was the shape of a woman and
that the flame burned upon her forehead. The radiance gathered
strength and now I saw the woman.
"Horace, it was Ayesha herself, her eyes, her lovely face, her cloudy
hair, and she looked at me sadly, reproachfully, I thought, as one
might who says, 'Why did you doubt?'
"I tried to speak to her but my lips were dumb. I tried to advance and
to embrace her, my arms would not move. There was a barrier between
us. She lifted her hand and beckoned as though bidding me to follow
her.
"Then she glided away, and, Horace, my spirit seemed to loose itself
from the body and to be given the power to follow. We passed swiftly
eastward, over lands and seas, and--I knew the road. At one point she
paused and I looked downwards. Beneath, shining in the moonlight,
appeared the ruined palaces of Kor, and there not far away was the
gulf we trod together.
"Onward above the marshes, and now we stood upon the Ethiopian's Head,
and gathered round, watching us earnestly, were the faces of the
Arabs, our companions who drowned in the sea beneath. Job was among
them also, and he smiled at me sadly and shook his head, as though he
wished to accompany us and could not.
"Across the sea again, across the sandy deserts, across more sea, and
the shores of India lay beneath us. Then northward, ever northward,
above the plains, till we reached a place of mountains capped with
eternal snow. We passed them and stayed for an instant above a
building set upon the brow of a plateau. It was a monastery, for old
monks droned prayers upon its terrace. I shall know it again, for it
is built in the shape of a half-moon and in front of it sits the
gigantic, ruined statue of a god who gazes everlastingly across the
desert. I knew, how I cannot say, that now we were far past the
furthest borders of Thibet and that in front of us lay untrodden
lands. More mountains stretched beyond that desert, a sea of snowy
peaks, hundreds and hundreds of them.
"Near to the monastery, jutting out into the plain like some rocky
headland, rose a solitary hill, higher than all behind. We stood upon
its snowy crest and waited, till presently, above the mountains and
the desert at our feet shot a sudden beam of light that beat upon us
like some signal flashed across the sea. On we went, floating down the
beam--on over the desert and the mountains, across a great flat land
beyond, in which were many villages and a city on a mound, till we lit
upon a towering peak. Then I saw that this peak was loop-shaped like
the symbol of Life of the Egyptians--the /crux-ansata/--and supported
by a lava stem hundreds of feet in height. Also I saw that the fire
which shone through it rose from the crater of a volcano beyond. Upon
the very crest of this loop we rested a while, till the Shadow of
Ayesha pointed downward with its hand, smiled and vanished. Then I
awoke.
"Horace, I tell you that the sign has come to us."
His voice died away in the darkness, but I sat still, brooding over
what I had heard. Leo groped his way to me and, seizing my arm, shook
it.
"Are you asleep?" he asked angrily. "Speak, man, speak!"
"No," I answered, "never was I more awake. Give me time."
Then I rose, and going to the open window, drew up the blind and stood
there staring at the sky, which grew pearl-hued with the first faint
tinge of dawn. Leo came also and leant upon the window-sill, and I
could feel that his body was trembling as though with cold. Clearly he
was much moved.
"You talk of a sign," I said to him, "but in your sign I see nothing
but a wild dream."
"It was no dream," he broke in fiercely; "it was a vision."
"A vision then if you will, but there are visions true and false, and
how can we know that this is true? Listen, Leo. What is there in all
that wonderful tale which could not have been fashioned in your own
brain, distraught as it is almost to madness with your sorrow and your
longings? You dreamed that you were alone in the vast universe. Well,
is not every living creature thus alone? You dreamed that the shadowy
shape of Ayesha came to you. Has it ever left your side? You dreamed
that she led you over sea and land, past places haunted by your
memory, above the mysterious mountains of the Unknown to an
undiscovered peak. Does she not thus lead you through life to that
peak which lies beyond the Gates of Death? You dreamed----"
"Oh! no more of it," he exclaimed. "What I saw, I saw, and that I
shall follow. Think as you will, Horace, and do what you will.
To-morrow I start for India, with you if you choose to come; if not,
without you."
"You speak roughly, Leo," I said. "You forget that /I/ have had no
sign, and that the nightmare of a man so near to insanity that but a
few hours ago he was determined upon suicide, will be a poor staff to
lean on when we are perishing in the snows of Central Asia. A mixed
vision, this of yours, Leo, with its mountain peak shaped like a
/crux-ansata/ and the rest. Do you suggest that Ayesha is re-
incarnated in Central Asia--as a female Grand Lama or something of
that sort?"
"I never thought of it, but why not?" asked Leo quietly. "Do you
remember a certain scene in the Caves of Kor yonder, when the living
looked upon the dead, and dead and living were the same? And do you
remember what Ayesha swore, that she would come again--yes, to this
world; and how could that be except by re-birth, or, what is the same
thing, by the transmigration of the spirit?"
I did not answer this argument. I was struggling with myself.
"No sign has come to me," I said, "and yet I have had a part in the
play, humble enough, I admit, and I believe that I have still a part."
"No," he said, "no sign has come to you. I wish that it had. Oh! how I
wish you could be convinced as I am, Horace!"
Then we were silent for a long while, silent, with our eyes fixed upon
the sky.
It was a stormy dawn. Clouds in fantastic masses hung upon the ocean.
One of them was like a great mountain, and we watched it idly. It
changed its shape, the crest of it grew hollow like a crater. From
this crater sprang a projecting cloud, a rough pillar with a knob or
lump resting on its top. Suddenly the rays of the risen sun struck
upon this mountain and the column and they turned white like snow.
Then as though melted by those fiery arrows, the centre of the
excrescence above the pillar thinned out and vanished, leaving an
enormous loop of inky cloud.
"Look," said Leo in a low, frightened voice, "that is the shape of the
mountain which I saw in my vision. There upon it is the black loop,
and there through it shines the fire. /It would seem that the sign is
for both of us, Horace./"
I looked and looked again till presently the vast loop vanished into
the blue of heaven. Then I turned and said--"I will come with you to
Central Asia, Leo."
