“Oh, I don’t trouble myself with such fine-drawn distinctions. If you pronounce the service over us, I will take the rest for granted. As I was telling Psyche the other day, it’s not worth while looking beyond this world. If she is mine here, I’ll risk our getting separated hereafter.”
“Hereafter may not be far off,” said the guest, more gravely than he had yet spoken. “You were best not to leave it out of the account.”
“Death is my enemy—I can see no good in him!” declared Eros; “and I will do the best I can to have my happiness in spite of him.”
“He doesn’t mean it!” exclaimed Psyche to their friend, in a low, appealing tone. “He knows that only Death can make Love immortal.”
“I must tell you,” observed the guest, after a pause, “that I cannot stay here long; I shall be gone to-night. What I came to do, therefore, must be done soon.”
“To-night!” cried Eros, in astonishment that was half incredulous. Psyche said nothing, but hid her face in her hands and shivered a little.
“I wished to make you happy—happier than you have ever been—if you would let me,” resumedthe previous speaker. “Whoever has lofty beliefs will have a lofty fate. If your idea of marriage is high enough, you will not hesitate to come with me to my Paradise. How is it with you, Eros?”
“Not yet,” replied Eros, laughing and shaking his head. “It’s too far off, and the journey is too cold. If you are really determined to leave us, you must go without me. Surely you can’t expect me to be ready to start at such short notice? No, no! I mean to stay by this comfortable fireside for a long time yet, and so shall Psyche.”
“Death has summoned men on shorter notice than this,” said the other. “Think again before you decide.”
“I have decided; and I never change my mind,” said Eros, obstinately.
And truly his preference was not an unnatural one. The old parlour presented a most attractive aspect. The great log which had been burning on the broad hearth had now fallen into glowing fragments, over which small yellow and bluish flames danced intermittently. Everything was warm, home-like, and familiar. Out of doors the stars shone crisp and white, and the snow glistened pure as a maiden’s soul. But ah! it was so terribly cold; the beauty of the prospect could be enjoyed muchbetter from the genial vantage-ground of the hearthstone.
“If that is your decision, you must abide by it,” said the guest, and something in the words, and in the manner they were uttered, awed Eros for the moment. Then, turning to Psyche, he continued: “But even your Eros cannot choose for you. What is your preference? Are you, too, willing to postpone Paradise for the fireside?”
Psyche was naturally more imaginative than most young girls, and possibly there was something in the shadowy mystery of the hour, and in her own physical and mental condition, that wrought upon her mood. A creeping languor and a chill which the heat of the embers could not counteract were gaining possession of her, and filling her brain with weird fancies. Insensibly, he who sat beside her, and whose icy lips she had felt upon her brow, had become clothed to her apprehension with an unearthly, superhuman personality. No man was he, but an angel of tender and mighty sway, stooping from heaven on the eve of Christmas, to hold high argument with two mortal lovers on those questions which most nearly concern their welfare. As she spoke her voice sounded faint and ethereal, while her eyes sought to penetrate the shadow which had fallen over the face of Eros.
“It is pleasant here,” she said; “yet if, in Paradise, our union may be eternal and secure, it is surely better to be there.”
“You will meet Eros where we are going,” returned the strange friend, gently, taking her hand in his own. “If not this Eros whom you have known here, then another and a worthier one than he.”
“Oh, not another,” whispered Psyche, entreatingly; “it must be this Eros—my own dear Eros whom I have always loved. I have lived with him, and our hearts are grown together. He is better and nobler than he seems.”
“It is not for me to decide,” was the answer. “But do you speak to him, Psyche. If he loves you, he will lay your words to heart.”
Psyche rose from her chair, and, stepping somewhat feebly, crossed to where Eros sat, and stood before him, her hands clasped. The room had become more dusky, so that the three figures appeared rather like shadows than beings of flesh and blood. For a moment or two there was silence, and only Psyche’s beseeching attitude seemed to speak.
“Eros,” she said at length, “I feel that I must go—I must go with this friend of ours. Do you know him, Eros? He is your friend as well as mine. You might have gone with us; but that was not to be. We shall not know marriage here, and we shall seemto be separated for a time. But if your love for me has been as great as mine for you, the memory of it, and the faith in what is to come, will heal the worst of the parting. Oh, my love, say it shall be so!”
“You are crazy—both of you!” cried Eros, wrestling with the fear that beset him, and striving to speak in an assured and masterful tone. “What has Mortimer to do with you, Psyche? You are mine, and whoever pretends to take you from me is my enemy!”
“Eros—Eros!” exclaimed the girl, with passionate earnestness, “it is you who are crazy, my poor darling. Mortimer is dead; and the letter which he wrote—the letter that I alone read and touched—had in it the contagion of the pestilence. It was the message of my death; and now my death has come.”
“Death shall not have you!” cried Eros, starting to his feet; and such was the vehemence of his rebellious anger that he felt ready to defy even Omnipotence. “What have I done that I should lose you? I have loved you truly and faithfully—why should not my love have its rightful fulfilment? It shall not go for naught and end in dust and ashes! As for this future you talk about, what is it? a misty possibility—an indefinite surmise—nothing! I sayit is unjust and tyrannical, and I will not submit! Come to me, Psyche!”
He reached towards her through the dusk, but she seemed to falter backwards from him, and when he would have followed, the tall form of the mysterious guest rose between, and beneath that mighty and majestic gaze the eyes of Eros wavered, though the rebellion in him was unconquered still.
“You must yield her to me,” said those deep, reverberating tones; “yet it is not I that parts you. True lovers can be parted only through want of faith. Upon yourself alone, therefore, does it depend whether she leaves you for a time or for ever.”
Eros pressed his hands to his head. Every good and evil impulse of his soul was in deadly struggle for the mastery. Was his love greater than Death? or had the past been a delusion? Was the future to be a blank? He was but a man, with a man’s weaknesses. He must rise to higher levels through bitter trial, if at all; and except there were in him some elements of generous nobleness, to turn his stubborn self-will at the crisis of the conflict, the demon of mistrust would gain the victory. Had he such allies?
“Speak to him again, Psyche,” murmured the lofty presence, “you may yet prevail.”
“Eros,” she said, throwing all the tenderness ofher loving soul into the word, “this is more than our friend—he is our brother. Love and Death should glorify each other. If they are enemies, Death becomes cruel and Love degraded. Yield me up now that you may possess me for ever. Oh, quick, my love—quick!”
The struggling man uttered a cry, heartrending, full of anguish. He was faint and giddy, and the world seemed to reel beneath his feet. He stretched out his arms. “I love you, Psyche,” he uttered. “Do not leave me behind; let me go with you!”
He felt her hand again within his own. “You are my own Eros,” she whispered in his ear. “I shall not altogether leave you; you will see me in dreams, and you will know that the Paradise I go to is near this earthly home of ours. At last—perhaps not for a long time—but at last we shall meet there. And now ... take me to our marriage-altar, and let us say farewell there.”
They came to the little samite-covered table, Psyche supported between the other two. The lovers knelt down together, and the form of the mysterious guest bended beneficently above them. Then Psyche slowly drooped sideways, and Eros caught her in his arms. Yet no—she was not there!
Still kneeling, he looked upwards through the window into the clear winter night, and saw wheretwo cloud-shapes seemed to flit hand in hand across the starlit purple of the heavens. A strange peace entered his lately tortured soul. The doubt in his love’s immortality was gone, and the struggle was ended.
“Take her, friend!” he cried, in a voice trembling with a deeper than earthly happiness. “So great is my love, that not in this world, nor with this mortal body, can I give it fit and full expression.”
He was left alone in the old parlour, with the dead embers of the fire upon the hearthstone. Christmas bells were ushering in what was to have been his wedding-day; but, like their sweet notes, his mortal hopes had been caught up to heaven, but were not lost there. It is many years since then, yet every returning Christmas has found the same light of peace in his face that first dawned there so long ago. No brooding sullenness or failing faith has changed it into gloom.
But who was the mysterious guest, and why did he bear the likeness of him whom, above all others, Eros and Psyche had loved? That is a question which answers itself in all our lives. For when the time comes—as come it must—that this majestic Presence is met face to face, shall we not trust that the countenance which will, perhaps, seem awful, may at least not be as that of a stranger whomwe know not, and whose heart is indifferent towards us? Would it not be pleasant, at that hour, to recognise in him who must herald our entrance into a new society, the well-known features of one whom our previous life had made our most secure and faithful friend?
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
Transcriber’s Note:The cover of this book was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.Double story titles on seperate pages have been removed.The following corrections have been made, on page30 ‘ moved (“‘Pretty soon, Jack,’ says he again)31 ” added (a pledge that’....”)31 “IV.” added (section header)39 “eëriest” changed to “eeriest” (ghost and witches might scream their eeriest unheard by)53 ? changed to ! (It is you who must finish it!)62 “maybe” changed to “may be” (He believed, it may be, that no one)160 “egs” changed to “legs” (with a flourish of its arms and legs)161 “waive” changed to “wave” (half facing about to wave me on.)165 “ added (“Wait a moment, I am merely)169 “your” changed to “you” (If you were a lawyer)185 ’ added and , changed to . (You know German?’—he says.)185 “...” changed to ‘...’ (‘What you don’t know about diamonds isn’t worth knowing,’ I put in.)195 ‘ added (“‘I don’t know where to telegraph)206 . added (the worse was my success.)246 ’ added (as thy brother, Christina,’ I laughed)246 , added (I daresay, ‘It is true).Otherwise the original has been preserved, including inconsistent hyphenation.
Transcriber’s Note:
The cover of this book was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
Double story titles on seperate pages have been removed.
The following corrections have been made, on page30 ‘ moved (“‘Pretty soon, Jack,’ says he again)31 ” added (a pledge that’....”)31 “IV.” added (section header)39 “eëriest” changed to “eeriest” (ghost and witches might scream their eeriest unheard by)53 ? changed to ! (It is you who must finish it!)62 “maybe” changed to “may be” (He believed, it may be, that no one)160 “egs” changed to “legs” (with a flourish of its arms and legs)161 “waive” changed to “wave” (half facing about to wave me on.)165 “ added (“Wait a moment, I am merely)169 “your” changed to “you” (If you were a lawyer)185 ’ added and , changed to . (You know German?’—he says.)185 “...” changed to ‘...’ (‘What you don’t know about diamonds isn’t worth knowing,’ I put in.)195 ‘ added (“‘I don’t know where to telegraph)206 . added (the worse was my success.)246 ’ added (as thy brother, Christina,’ I laughed)246 , added (I daresay, ‘It is true).
Otherwise the original has been preserved, including inconsistent hyphenation.