When I was left alone once more I gave myself up to the enchanting sense of perfect happiness that now seemed to possess my whole being. The world of glorious Nature showed me an aspect of brilliancy and beauty that could no more be shadowed by fear or foreboding—it was a mirror in which I saw reflected the perfect Mind of the Divine. Nothing existed to terrify or daunt the advancing Soul which had become cognisant of its own capabilities, and which, by the very laws governing it, is preordained to rise to the utmost height of supernal power. I had dimly guessed this truth—but I had never surely known it till now. Now, I recognised that everything is and must be subservient to this interior force which exists to 'replenish the earth and subdue it'—and that nothing can hinder the accomplishment of its resolved Will. As I sat by the window thinking and dreaming, I began to wonder what would be the nature of that 'last fear' of which Aselzion had spoken? Why should the word 'fear' be mentioned, when there was no cause for fear of any kind? Fear can only arise from a sense of cowardice,—and cowardice is the offspring of weakness. From this argument it followed that my strength was not yet thoroughly tested to Aselzion's satisfaction,—that he still thought it possible that some latent weakness in my spirit might display itself on further trial. And I resolved that if such was his idea, he should be proved wrong. Nothing, I vowed, should move me now—not all the world arrayed in arms against me should hinder my advance towards the completion of myself in the love of my Beloved!
I have already said that there was no visible chronicle of time in the House of Aselzion, save such as was evidenced by the broadening or waning light of day. Just now I knew it was late afternoon, as the window where I sat faced the west, and the sun was sinking in a blaze of glory immediately opposite to me. Bars of gold and purple and pale blue formed a kind of cloud gateway across the heavens, and behind this the splendid orb shone in a halo of deep rose. Watching the royal pageantry of colour on all sides, I allowed myself to go forth as it were in spirit to meet and absorb it,—inwardly I set my whole being in tune with the great wave of light which opened itself over the sea and land, and as I did so found every nerve in my body thrilled with responsive ecstasy, even as harpstrings may be thrilled into sound by the sweep of the wind. I rose and went out, through the loggia into the garden—feeling more like a disembodied spirit than a mortal, so light and free and joyous were my very movements—so entirely in unison was I with everything in Nature. The sunset bathed me in its ruby and purple magnificence,—I lifted my eyes to the heavens and murmured almost unconsciously—"Thank God for Life! Thank God for Love! Thank God for all that Life and Love must bring to me!"
A sea-gull soaring inland flew over my head with a little cry—its graceful poise reminded me of the days I had passed in Morton Harland's yacht, when I had watched so many of these snow-white creatures dipping into the waves, and soaring up again to the skies—and on a sudden impulse I stretched out my hand, determining to stay the bird's flight if I could and bring it down to me. The effort succeeded,—slowly, and as if checked by some obstacle it felt but could not see, the lovely winged thing swept round and round in an ever descending circle and finally alighted on my wrist. I held it so for a moment—it turned its head towards me, its ruby-brown eyes sparkling in the sun—then I tossed it off again into the air of its own freedom, where after another circling sweep or two it disappeared, and I walked on in a happy reverie, realising that what I could do with the visible things of Nature I could do as easily with the invisible. A sense of power vibrated through me [Footnote: The philosophy of Plato teaches that Man originally by the power of the Divine Image within him could control all Nature, but gradually lost this power through his own fault.]—power to command, and power to resist,—power that forbade all hesitation, vacillation or uncertainty—power which being connected by both physical and spiritual currents with this planet, the Earth, and the atmosphere by which it is surrounded, lifts all that it desires towards itself, as it rejects what it does not need.
Returning slowly through the garden, and lingering by the beds of flowers that adorned it, I noticed how when I bent over any particular blossom, it raised itself towards me as though drawn upward by a magnet. I was not inclined to gather a single one for my own pleasure—some occult sympathy had become established between me and these beautiful creations—and I could no more sever a rose from its stem than I could kill a bird that sang its little song to me. On re-entering my room I found the usual refection prepared for me—fresh fruit and bread and water—the only kind of food I was allowed. It was quite sufficient for me,—in fact I had not felt at any time the sensation of hunger. I began to wonder how long I had been a 'probationer' in the House of Aselzion? Days or weeks? I could not tell. I was realising the full truth that with the things of the infinite time has no existence, and I recalled the verse of the ancient psalm:
"A thousand ages in Thy sight Are like an evening gone, Short as the watch that ends the night Before the rising sun."
And while my thoughts ran in this groove, I opened the book of the 'Secret of Life'—and as if in answer to my inward communing, found the following:
"Time has no existence outside this planet. Humanity counts its seasons, its days and hours by the Sun—but beyond the Sun there are millions and trillions of other and larger suns, compared with which our guiding orb is but a small star. Out in the infinitude of space there is no Time, but only Eternity. Therefore the Soul which knows itself to be eternal should associate Itself with eternal things, and should never count its existence by years. To its Being there can be no end—therefore it never ages and never dies. It is only the sham religionists who talk of death,—it is only the inefficient and unspiritual who talk of age. The man who allows himself to sink into feebleness and apathy merely because of the passing of years has some mental or spiritual weakness in him which he has not the Will to overcome—the woman who suffers her beauty and freshness to wane and fade on account of what she or her 'dearest' friends are pleased to call 'age,' shows that she is destitute of spiritual self-control. The Soul is always young, and its own radiation can preserve the youth of the Body in which it dwells. Age and decrepitude come to those with whom the Soul is 'an unknown quantity.' The Soul is the only barrier against the forces of disintegration which break down effete substances in preparation for the change which humanity calls 'Death.' If the barrier is not strong enough, the enemy takes the city. These facts are simple and true; too simple and too true to be accepted by the world. The world goes to church and asks a Divinity to save its soul, practically showing in all its ways of society and government an utter disbelief in the Soul's existence. Men and women die when they might as well have lived. If we examine into the cause of their deaths we shall find it in the manner of their lives. Obstinacy and selfishness have murdered more human beings than any other form of plague. The blasphemy of sham religion has insulted the majesty of the Creator more than any other form of sin, and He has answered it by His Supreme Silence. The man who attends a ritual of prayer which he does not honestly believe in, merely for the sake of social custom and observance, is openly deriding his Maker and the priests who gain their living out of such ritual are trading on the Divine. Let the people of this Earth be taught that they live not in Time but Eternity,—that their thoughts, words and deeds are recorded minutely and accurately—and that each individual human unit is expected to contribute towards the general beauty and adornment of God's scheme of Perfection. Every man, every woman, must give of his or her best. The artist must give his noblest art, not for what it brings to him personally of gain or renown, but for what it does to others in the way of uplifting;—the poet must give his highest thought, not for praise, but for love;—the very craftsman must do his best and strongest work not for the coin paid, but for the fact that it is work, and as such must be done well—and none must imagine that they can waste the forces wherewith they have been endowed. For no waste and no indolence is permitted, and in the end no selfishness. The attitude of the selfish human being is pure disintegration,—a destroying microbe which crumbles and breaks down the whole constitution, not only ruining the body but the mind, and frequently making havoc of the very wealth that has been too selfishly guarded. For wealth is ephemeral as fame—only Love and the Soul are the lasting things of God, the Makers of Life and the Rulers of Eternity."
So far I read—then laying down my book I listened. Music, solemn and exquisitely beautiful, stole on my ears from the far distance—it seemed to float through the open window as though in a double chorus—rising from the sea and falling from the heavens. Delicious harmonies trembled through the air, soft as fine rain falling on roses,—and with their penetrating tenderness a thousand suggestions, a thousand memories came to me, all infinitely sweet. I began to think that even if Rafel Santoris were separated from me by some mischance, or changed to me in any way, it need not affect me over-much so long as I cherished the love I had for him in my own soul. Our passion was of a higher quality than the merely material,—it was material and spiritual together, the spiritual predominating, thus making of it the only passion that can last. What difference could a few years more or less bring, if we were bound, by the eternal laws governing us, to become united in the end? The joy of life is to love rather than to be loved,—and the recipient of love is never so fully conscious of perfect happiness as the giver.
The music went on in varying moods of lovely harmony, and my mind, like a floating cloud, drifted lazily above the waves of sound. I thought compassionately of the unrest and discontent of thousands who devote themselves to the smallest and narrowest aims in life,—people with whom the loss of a mere article of wearing apparel is more important than a national difficulty—people who devote all their faculties to social schemes of self-aggrandisement—people who discuss trifles till discussion is worn threadbare, and ears are tired and brain is weary—people who, assuming to be religious and regular church-goers, yet do the meanest things, and have no scruple in playing the part of tale-bearer and mischief-maker, setting themselves deliberately to break friendships and destroy love—people who talk of God as though He were their intimate, and who have by their very lives drawn everything of God out of them—I thought of all these, I say—and I thought how different this world would be if men would hold by the noblest ideals, and suffer the latent greatness in them to have its way—if they would truly rule their own universe and not allow its movements to fall into chaos—how fair life would become!—how replete with health and joy!—what a paradise would be created around us!—and what constant benediction we should draw down upon us from the Most High! And gradually as I sat absorbed in my own reveries the afternoon waned into twilight, and twilight into dusk—one star brilliant as a great diamond, flashed out suddenly above a rift of cloud—and a soft darkness began to creep stealthily over sky and sea. I moved away from the window and paced slowly up and down the room, waiting and wondering. The music still continued,—but it had now grown slower and more solemn, and founded like a great organ being played in a cathedral. It impressed me with a sense of prayer and praise—more of praise than prayer, for I had nothing to pray for, God having given me my own Soul, which was all!
As the darkness deepened, a soft suffused light illumined the room—and I now noticed that it was the surface of the walls that shone in this delicate yet luminous way. I put my hand on the wall nearest to me—it was quite cold to the touch, yet bright to the eyes, and was no more fatiguing to look at than the sunshine on a landscape. I could not understand how the light was thus arranged and used, but its effect was beautiful. As I walked to and fro, looking at the various graceful and artistic objects which adorned the room, I perceived an easel, on which a picture was placed with a curtain of dark velvet drawn across it. Moved by curiosity, I drew the curtain aside,—and my heart gave a quick bound of delight,—it was an admirably painted portrait of Rafel Santoris. The grave blue eyes looked into my own,—a smile rested on the firm, handsome mouth—the whole picture spoke to me and seemed to ask 'Wherefore didst thou doubt?' I stood gazing at it for several minutes, enrapt,—realising how much even the 'counterfeit presentment' of a beloved face may mean. And then I began to think how strange it is that we never seem ready to admit the strong insistence of Nature on individuality and personality. Up at a vast height above the Earth, and looking down upon a crowd of people from the car of a balloon, or from an aeroplane, all human beings look the same—just one black mass of tiny moving units; but, in descending among them, we find every face and figure wholly different, and though all are made on the same model there are no two alike. Yet there are many who argue and maintain that though individual personality in bodies may be strongly marked, there is no individual personality in souls—ergo, that Nature thinks so little of the intelligent Spirit inhabiting a mortal form that she limits individuality to that which is subject to change and has no care for it in that which is eternal! Such an hypothesis is absurd on the face of it, since it is the Soul that gives individuality to the Body. The individual personality of Rafel Santoris, expressed even in his painted portrait, appealed to me as being that of one I had loved long and tenderly,—there was no strangeness in his features but only an adorable familiarity. Long long ago, in centuries that had proved like mere days down the vista of time, the Soul in those blue eyes had looked love into mine! I recognised their tender, half-entreating, half-commanding gaze,—I knew the little fleeting, wistful smile which said so little and yet so much—I felt that the striving, ambitious spirit of this man had sought mine as the help and completion of his own uplifting, and that I had misunderstood him and turned from him at the crucial moment when all might have been well. And I studied his picture long and earnestly, so moved by its aspect that I found myself talking to it softly as though it were a living thing.
"I wonder if I shall ever meet you again?" I murmured—"Will you come to me?—or shall I go to you? How shall we find each other? When shall I be able to tell you that I know you now to be the only Beloved!—the one centre of my life round which all other things must for evermore revolve,—the very mainspring of my best thought and action,—the god of my universe from whose love and pleasure spring the light and splendour of creation! When shall I see you again to tell you all that my heart longs to express?—when may I fold myself in your arms as a bird folds its wings in a nest, and be at peace, knowing that I have gained the summit of all ambition and desires in love's perfect union? When shall we attune our lives together in that harmonious chord which shall sound its music sweetly through eternity? When shall our Souls make a radiant ONE, through which God's power and benediction shall vibrate like living fire, creating within us all beauty, all wisdom, all courage, all supernal joy?—For this is bound to be our future—but—when?"
Moved by my own imagining, I stretched out my arms to the picture of my love, and tears filled my eyes. I was nothing but the weakest of mortals in the sudden recollection of the happiness I might have won long ago had I been wise in time!
A door opened quietly behind me, and I turned round quickly. Aselzion's messenger, Honorius, stood before me—and I greeted him with a smile, though my eyes were wet.
"Have you come to fetch me?"—I asked—"I am ready."
He inclined his head a little.
"You are not quite ready"—he said—and with the word he gave into my hands a folded garment and veil—"You must attire yourself in these. I will wait for you outside."
He retired and left me, and I quickly changed my own things for those which had been brought. They were easily put on, as they consisted simply of one long white robe of a rather heavy make of soft silk, and a white veil which covered me from head to foot. My attiring took me but a few minutes, and when all was done I touched the bell by which I had previously summoned Aselzion. Honorius entered at once—his looks were grave and preoccupied.
"If you should not return to this room,"—he said, slowly—"is there any message—any communication you would like me to convey to your friends?"
My heart gave a quick bound. There was some actual danger in store for me, then? I thought for a moment—then smiled.
"None!" I answered—"I shall be able to attend to all such personal matters myself—afterwards!"
Honorius looked at me, and his handsome but rather stern face was grave even to melancholy.
"Do not be too sure!"—he said, in a low tone—"It is not my place to speak, but few pass the ordeal to which you are about to be subjected. Only two have passed it in ten years."
"And one of these two was—?"
For answer, he pointed to the portrait of Santoris, thus confirming my instinctive hope and confidence.
"I am not afraid!" I said—"And I am ready to follow you now wherever you wish me to go."
He made no further remark and, turning round, led the way out of the apartment.
We went down many stairs and through many corridors,—some dimly lit, some scarcely illumined at all. The night had now fully come,—and through one of two of the windows we passed I could see the dark sky patterned with stars. We came to the domed hall where the fountain played, and this was illumined by the same strange all-penetrating light I had previously noticed,—the lovely radiance played on the spray of the fountain, making the delicate frondage of ferns and palms and the hues of flowers look like a dream of fairyland. Passing through the hall, I followed my guide down a dark narrow passage—then I found myself suddenly alone. Guided by the surging sound of organ music, I went on,—and all at once saw a broad stream of light pouring out from the open door of the chapel. Without a moment's hesitation, I entered—then paused—the symbol of the Cross and Star flamed opposite to me—and on every side wherever I looked there were men in white robes with cowls thrown back on their shoulders, all standing in silent rows, watching me as I came. My heart beat quickly,—my nerves thrilled—I trembled as I walked, thankful for the veil that partially protected me from that multitude of eyes!—eyes that looked at me in wonder, but not unkindly—eyes that mutely asked questions never to be answered—eyes that said as plainly as though in actual speech—"Why are you among us?—you, a woman? Why should you have conquered difficulties which we have still to overcome? Is it pride, defiance, or ambition with you?—or is it all love?"
I felt a thousand influences moving around me—the power of many brains at work silently cross-examined my inner spirit as though it were a witness in defence of some great argument—but I made up my mind not to yield to the overpowering nervousness and sudden alarm of my own position which threatened to shake my self-control. I fixed my eyes on the glittering symbol of the Cross and Star and moved on slowly—I must have looked a strangely solitary creature, draped in white like a victim for sacrifice and walking all alone towards those burning, darting rays of light which enveloped the whole of the chapel in a flood of almost blinding splendour. The music still thundered on round me—and I thought I heard voices far off singing—I could distinguish words that came falling through the music, like blossoms falling through rain:
Into the Light,Into the heart of the fire!To the innermost core of the deathless flameI ascend—I aspire!Under me rolls the whirling Earth,With the noise of a myriad wheels that runEver round and about the Sun,—Over me circles the splendid heaven,Strewn with the stars of morn and even,And I, the queenOf my soul serene,Float with my rainbow wings unfurled,Alone with Love, 'twixt God and the world!
My heart beat rapidly; every nerve in me trembled—yet I went on resolvedly, not allowing myself to even think of danger.
And then I saw Aselzion—Aselzion, transfigured into an almost supernatural beauty of aspect by the radiance which bathed him in its lustrous glory!—Aselzion, with outstretched hands beckoning me towards him—and as I approached I instinctively sank on my knees. The music died away suddenly, and there was a profound silence. I felt, though I could not see, that the eyes of all present were fixed upon me. And Aselzion spoke:
"Rise!" he said—and his voice was clear and imperative—"Not here must thou kneel—not here must thou rest! Rise and go onward!—thou hast gone far, but the way is still beyond! The gate of the Last Probation stands open—enter!—and may God be thy Guide!"
I rose as he commanded me,—and a dazzling flash of light struck my eyes as though the heavens had opened. The blazing Cross and Star became suddenly severed in two separate portions, dividing asunder and disclosing what seemed to be a Hall of living fire! Flames of every colour burned vividly, leaping and falling without pause or cessation,—it was a kind of open furnace in which surely everything must be consumed! I looked at Aselzion in silent enquiry—not in fear—and in equally silent answer he pointed to the glowing vault. I understood—and without another moment's hesitation I advanced towards it. As in a dream I heard a kind of murmuring behind me—and suppressed exclamations from the students or disciples of Aselzion who were all assembled in the chapel—but I paid no heed to this—my whole soul was set on fulfilling the last task demanded of me. Step by step I went on—I passed Aselzion with a smile—
"Good-bye!" I murmured—"We shall meet again!"
And then I advanced towards the leaping flames. I felt their hot breath on my cheeks—the scorching wind of them lifted my hair through the folds of my veil—an idea came upon me that for some cause or other I was now to experience that 'Change which men call Death'—and that through this means I should meet my Beloved on the other side of life—and with his name on my lips, and a passionate appeal to him in my heart, I stepped into the glowing fire.
As I did so, I lost sight of Aselzion—of the chapel and of all those who watched my movements, and found myself surrounded on all sides by darting points of light which instead of scorching and withering me like a blown leaf in a storm, were like cool and fragrant showers playing all over me! Amazed, I went on—and as I went grew bolder. At one step I was bathed in a rain of delicate rays like sparkling diamond and topaz—at another a lovely violet light shrouded me in its rich hues—at another I walked in melting azure, like the hues of a summer sky—and the farther in I went the deeper and more glowing was the light about me. I felt it penetrating every pore of my skin—I held my hands out to it, and saw them look transparent in the fine luminance,—and presently, gaining courage, I threw back my veil and breathed in the radiance, as one breathes the air! My whole body grew light, and moved as though it floated rather than walked—I looked with unfatigued, undazzled eyes at the glittering flames that sparkled harmlessly about me and which changed to lovely shapes of flowers and leaves beneath my feet, and arched themselves over my head like branches of shading trees—and then all at once, down the long vista I caught sight of a Shape like that of an Angel!—an angel that waited for me with watchful eyes and outstretched arms!—it was but a moment that I saw this vision, and yet I knew what it meant, and I pressed on and on with all my Soul rising in me as it were, to go forth and reach that Companion of itself which stood waiting with such tender patience! The light around me now changed to waves of intense luminance which swept upon me like waves of the sea—and I allowed myself to be borne along with them, I knew not whither. All at once I saw a vast Pillar of Fire which seemed to block my way,—pausing a moment, I looked and saw it break asunder and form the Cross and Star!—I gazed upward, wondering—its rays descending seemed to pierce my eyes, my brain, my very soul!—I sprang forward, dazed and dazzled, murmuring, "Let this be the end!"
Someone caught me in his arms—someone drew me to his breast, holding me there as if I were the dearest possession of all the world or life or time could give—and a voice, infinitely tender, answered me—
"Not the end, but the Endless, my beloved!—Mine at last, and mine for ever!—in triumph, in victory, in perfect joy!"
And then I knew!—I knew that I had found my love!—that it was Rafel Santoris who thus held me in his close embrace,—that I had fulfilled my own desire, which was to prove my faith if not my worthiness—that I had won all I wanted in this world and the next, and that nothing could ever separate our Souls, one from the other again! This is the deep eternal ecstasy of a knowledge divinely shared by the very angels of God, and of such supernal happiness nothing can be said or written!
* * ** **
I pen these last words on the deck of the 'Dream' with my Beloved beside me. The sun is sinking in a glory of crimson—we are about to anchor in still waters. A rosy light flashes on our wonderful white sails, which will be presently furled; and we shall sit together, Rafel and I, watching the night draw its soft dark curtain around us, and the stars come out in the sky like diamonds embroidered on deep purple velvet, and listening to the gentle murmur of the little waves breaking into a rocky corner of the distant shore. And the evening will close on a day of peace and happiness,—one of the many unwearying, beautiful days which, like a procession of angels, bring us new and ever more perfect joy!
More than a year has elapsed since my 'Probation' in the House of Aselzion,—since we, my Beloved and I, knelt before the Master and received his blessing on our eternal union. In that brief time I have lost all my 'worldly' friends and acquaintances,—who have, if I may so express it, become afraid of me. Afraid, chiefly, because I possess all that the world can give me without their advice and assistance—and not only afraid, but offended, because I have found the Companion of my Soul with whom they have nothing in common. They look upon me as 'lost to society' and cannot realise how much such loss is gain! Meanwhile we, Rafel and I, live our own radiant and happy lives, in full possession of all that makes life sweet and valuable, and wanting nothing that our own secret forces cannot supply. Wealth is ours—one of the least among the countless gifts Nature provides for those among her children who know where to find her inexhaustible riches—and we also enjoy the perfect health which accompanies the constant inflowing of an exhaustless vitality. And though the things we attain seem 'miraculous' to others, so that even while accepting help and benefit at our hands, they frown and shake their heads at the attitude we assume towards social hypocrisies and conventions, we are nevertheless able to create such 'influences' around us, that none come near as without feeling stronger, better and more content,—and this is the utmost we are permitted to do for our fellow-creatures, inasmuch as none will listen to argument, and none will follow advice. The most ardent soul that ever dwelt in human form cannot lead another soul in the way of lasting life or lasting happiness if it refuses to go,—and there is no more absolute truth than this—That each man and each woman must make his or her own destiny both here and hereafter. This is the Law which changes not and which can never be subject to the slightest variation. Forgiveness of sins there is none—since every trespass against law carries its own punishment. Necessity for prayer there is none,—since every faithful wish and desire of the Soul is granted without parley. Necessity for praise there is much!—since the Soul lives and grows in the glory of its Creator. And the whole Secret of Everlasting Life and Happiness is contained in the full possession and control of the Divine Centre of ourselves—this 'Radia' or living flame, which must be DUAL in order to be perfect, and which in its completed state, is an eternal Force which nothing can destroy and nothing can resist. All Nature harmonises with its action, and from Nature it draws its perpetual sustenance and increasing power.
To me, and my Beloved, the world is a garden of paradise—rich with beauty and delight. We live in it as a part of its loveliness—we draw into our own organisations the warmth of the sunlight, the glory of colour, the songs of sweet birds, the fragrance of flowers, and the exquisite vibrations of the light and air. Like two notes of a perfect chord we sound our lives on the keyboard of the Infinite—and we know that the music will become fuller and sweeter as the eternal seasons roll on. If it is asked why there should have been any necessity to pass through the psychic ordeal imposed on me by Aselzion, I reply—Look at the world in which men and women generally live, and say frankly whether its ways are such as to engender happiness! Look at society—look at politics—look at commerce—all mere schemes for self-aggrandisement! And more than all, look at the Sham of modern religion! Is it not too often a mere blasphemy and affront to the majesty of the Divine? And are not many, if not all these mistakes against Nature,—these offences against eternal Law,—the result of Man's own 'influence' working in opposition to the very decrees of God, which he disobeys even while recognising that they exist?
The chief point of Aselzion's instruction was the test of the Brain and Soul against 'influences'—the opposing influences of others—and this is truly the chief hindrance to all spiritual progress. The coward sentiment of fear itself is born in us through the influence of timorous persons—and it is generally the dread of what 'other people will say' or what 'other people will think' that holds us back from performing many a noble action. It should be thoroughly understood that in the eternal advancement of one's own Soul 'other people' and their influences are hindrances to progress. It does not matter a jot what anybody thinks or says, provided the central altar of one's own Spirituality is clear and clean for the steadfast burning of the dual flame of Life and Love. All opinion, all criticism becomes absurd in such matters as these and absolutely worthless.
It does not affect me that anyone outside my sphere of thought should be incredulous of my beliefs,—nor can it move me from my happiness to know that persons who live their lives on a lower plane consider me a fool for electing to live mine on the highest. I take joy in the fact that even in so selfish and material an age as this, Aselzion still has his students and disciples,—a mere handful out of the million, it is true, but still sufficient to keep the beautiful truth of the Soul's power alive and helpful to the chosen few. For such who have studied these truths and have mastered them sufficiently to practise them in the ordinary round of existence, Life presents an ever living happiness—and offers daily proof that there is no such thing as Death. Youth remains where Love is, and Beauty stays with health and vitality. Decay and destruction are changes which are brought about by apathy of the Will and indifference to the Soul's existence, and the same Law which gives the Soul its supreme sovereignty equally works for its release from effete and inactive substances.
To those who would ask me how I am able to hold and keep the treasures of life, love and youth, which the majority of mankind are for ever losing, I answer that I can say no more than I have said, and the lesson which all may learn is contained in what I have written. It is no use arguing with those whom no argument will convince, or trying to teach those who will not be taught. We—my Beloved and I—can only prove the truth of the Soul's absolute command over all spiritual, material and elemental forces by our One life and the way we live it—we, to whom everything that is necessary and desirable for our progress, comes on demand,—we, whom Science serves as an Aladdin's lamp, realising every imaginable delight—we, with whom Love, which with many human beings is judged the most variable and transitory of emotions, is the very Principle of Life, the very essence of the waves of the air through which we move and have our being. The attainment of such happiness as ours is possible to all, but there is only One Way of Attainment, and the clue to that Way is in the Soul of each individual human being. Each one must find it and follow it, regardless of all 'influences' which may be brought to bear on his or her actions,—each one must discover the Centre-poise of Life's movement, and firmly abide by it. It is the Immortal Creature in each one of us whose destiny is to make eternal progress and advancement through endless phases of life, love and beauty, and when once we know and admit the actual existence of this Immortal Centre we shall realise that with it all things are possible, save Death. Radiating outward from itself, it can preserve the health and youth of the body it inhabits indefinitely, till of its own desire it seeks a higher plane of action,—radiating inwardly, it is an irresistible attractive force drawing to itself the powers and virtues of the planet on which it dwells, and making all the forces of visible and invisible Nature subject to its will and command. This is one of those great Truths which the world denies, but which it is destined to learn within the next two thousand years.
If anyone should desire to know the fate of Motion Harland and his daughter, that fate has been precisely what they themselves brought about by their way of life and action. Morton Harland himself 'died,' as the world puts it, of a painful and lingering disease which could have been cured had he chosen to take the means offered to him through Rafel Santoris. He did not choose,—therefore the end was inevitable. Catherine married Dr. Brayle, and they two now live a sufficiently wretched life together,—she, a moping, querulous invalid, and he as a 'society' physician, possessed of great wealth and the position wealth brings. We never meet,—our ways are now for ever sundered. Mine is the upward and onward path—and with my Beloved I ascend the supernal heights where the Shadow of Evil never falls, and where the Secret of Life is centred in the Spirit of Love.