Ardath by Marie Corelli (reading in the dark .txt) 📖

itself around her in scintillating points of light—light that reflected itself also on me and bathed me in its luminous splendor. And as I gazed at her in speechless awe, she leaned toward me nearer and nearer, her deep, pure eyes burning softly into mine … her hands touched me—her arms closed round me … her bright head lay in all its shining loveliness on my breast! A tremulous ecstasy thrilled me as with fire … I gazed upon her as one might gaze on some fluttering, rare-plumaged bird … I dare not move or speak … I drank her sweetness down into my soul! Now and then a sound as of distant harps playing broke the love-weighted silence … and thus we remained together a heavenly breathing-space of wordless rapture; till suddenly and swiftly, as though she had received an invisible summons, she arose, her looks expressing a saintly patience, and laying her two hands upon my brows—‘Write,’ she said, ‘WRITE AND PROCLAIM A MESSAGE OF HOPE TO THE SORROWFUL STAR!

WRITE AND LET THINE UTTERANCE BE A TRUE ECHO OF THE ETERNAL MUSIC

WITH WHICH THESE SPHERES ARE FILLED! WRITE TO THE RHYTHMIC BEAT OF

THE HARMONIES WITHIN THEE … FOR LO! ONCE MORE AS IN AFORETIME MY

CHANGELESS LOVE RENEWS IN THEE THE POWER OF PERFECT SONG!’ With that she moved away serenely and beckoned me to follow … I obeyed in haste and trembling … long rays of rosy light swept after her like trailing wings, and as she walked, the golden nimbus round her form glowed with a thousand brilliant and changeful hues like the rainbows seen in the spray of falling water! Through lush green grass thick with blossom,—under groves heavy with fragrant leaves and laden with the songs of birds …

over meadows cool and mountain-sheltered, on we went—she, like the goddess of advancing Spring, I eagerly treading in her radiant footsteps … and presently we came to a place where two paths met, … one all overgrown with azure and white flowers, that ascended away and away into undiscerned distance, … the other sloping deeply downward, and full of shadows, yet dimly illumined by a pale, mysterious splendor like frosty moonlight streaming on sad-colored seas. Here she turned and faced me, and I saw her divine eyes droop with the moisture of unshed tears. ‘THEOS! …

THEOS!’ … she cried, and the passionate cadence of her voice was as the singing of a nightingale in lonely woodlands … ‘AGAIN …

AGAIN WE MUST PART! … PART! … OH, MY BELOVED! … MY BELOVED!

HOW LONG WILT THOU SEVER ME FROM THY SOUL AND LEAVE ME ALONE AND

SORROWFUL AMID THE JOYS OF HEAVEN?’ As she thus spoke a sense of utter shame and loss and failure overwhelmed me, … pierced to the very core of my being by an unexplained yet most bitter remorse, I cast myself down in deep abasement before her, … I caught her glittering robe … I strove to say ‘Forgive!’ but I was speechless as a convicted traitor in the presence of a wronged queen! All at once the air about us was rent by a great noise of thunder intermingled with triumphal music,—she drew her sheeny garment from my touch in haste, and stooping to me where I knelt, she kissed my forehead … ‘THY ROAD LIES THERE’—she murmured in quick, soft tones, pointing to the vista of varying light and shadow,—‘MINE, YONDER!’ and she looked toward the flower-garlanded avenue—‘HASTEN! … IT IS TIME THOU WERT FAR HENCE! …

RETURN TO THINE OWN STAR LEST ITS PORTALS BE CLOSED ON THEE

FOREVER AND THOU BE PLUNGED INTO DEEPER DARKNESS! SEEK THOU THE

FIELD OF ARDATH!—AS CHRIST LIVES, I WILL MEET THEE THERE!

FAREWELL!’ With these words she left me, passing away, arrayed in glory, treading on flowers, and ever ascending till she disappeared! … while I, stricken with a great repentance, went slowly, as she bade me, down into the shadow, and a rippling breeze-like melody, as of harps and lutes most tenderly attuned, followed me as I descended. And now,” said Alwyn, interrupting his narrative and speaking with emphatic decision, “surely there remains but one thing for me to do—that is, to find the ‘Field of Ardath.’”

 

Heliobas smiled gravely. “Nay, if you consider the whole episode a dream,” he observed, “why trouble yourself? Dreams are seldom realized, … and as to the name of Ardath, have you ever heard it before?”

 

“Never!” replied Alwyn. “Still—if there is such a place on this planet I will most certainly journey thither! Maybe YOU know something of its whereabouts?”

 

“Finish your story,” said Heliobas, quietly evading the question.

“I am curious to hear the end of your strange adventure.”

 

“There is not much more to tell,” and Alwyn sighed a little as he spoke. “I wandered further and further into the gloom, oppressed by many thoughts and troubled by vague fears, till presently it grew so dark that I could scarcely see where I was going, though I was able to guide myself in the path that stretched before me by means of the pale luminous rays that frequently pierced the deepening obscurity, and these rays I now noticed fell ever downwards in the form of a cross. As I went on I was pursued as it were by the sound of those delicate harmonies played on invisible, sweet strings; and after a while I perceived at the extreme end of the long, dim vista a door standing open, through which I entered and found myself alone in a quiet room. Here I sat down to rest,—

the melody of the distant harps and lutes still floated in soft echoes on the silence … and presently words came breaking through the music, like buds breaking from their surrounding leaves.. words that I was compelled to write down as quickly as I heard them … and I wrote on and on, obeying that symphonious and rhythmical dictation with a sense of growing ease and pleasure, … when all suddenly a dense darkness overcame me, followed by a gradual dawning gray and golden light … the words dispersed into fragmentary half-syllables … the music died away, … I started up amazed … to find myself here! … here in this monastery of Lars, listening to the chanting of the Angelus!”

 

He ceased, and looked wistfully out through the window at the white encircling rim of the opposite snow-mountains, now bathed in the full splendor of noon. Heliobas advanced and laid one hand kindly on his shoulder. …

 

“And do not forget,” he said, “that you have brought with you from the higher regions a Poem that will in all probability make your fame! ‘Fame! fame! next grandest word to God!’ … so wrote one of your craft, and no doubt you echo the sentiment! Have you not desired to blazon your name on the open scroll of the world? Well!

… now you can have your wish—the world waits to receive your signature!”

 

“That is all very well!” and Alwyn smiled rather dubiously as he glanced at the manuscript on the table beside him. “But the question is,—considering how it was written,—can I, dare I call this poem MINE?”

 

“Most assuredly you can,” returned Heliobas. “Though your hesitation is a worthy one, and as rare as it is worthy. Well would it be for all poets and artists were they to pause thus, and consider before rashly calling their work their own! Self-appreciation is the death-blow of genius. The poem is as much yours as your life is yours—no more and no less. In brief, you have recovered your lost inspiration; the lately dumb oracle speaks again:—and are you not satisfied?”

 

“No!” said Alwyn quickly, with a sudden brightening of his eyes as he met the keenly searching glance that accompanied this question.

“No! for I love! … and the desire of love burns in me as ardently as the desire of fame!” He paused, and in quieter tones continued, “You see I speak freely and frankly to you as though—

,” and he laughed a little, “as though I were a good Catholic, and you my father-confessor! Good heavens! if some of the men I know in London were to hear me, they would think me utterly crazed! But craze or no craze, I feel I shall never be satisfied now till I find out whether there IS anywhere is the world a place called Ardath. Can you, will you help me in the search? I am almost ashamed to ask you, for you have already done so much for me, and I really owe to your wonderful power my trance or soul-liberty, or whatever it may be called. …”

 

“You owe me nothing,” interposed Heliobas calmly, “not even thanks. Your own will accomplished your freedom, and I am not responsible for either your departure or your return. It was a predestined occurrence, yet perfectly scientific and easy of explanation. Your inward force attracted mine down upon you in one strong current, with the result that your Spirit instantly parted asunder from your body, and in that released condition you experienced what you have described. But I had no, more to do with that experience than I shall have with your journey to the ‘field of Ardath,’ should you decide to go there.”

 

“There IS an Ardath then!” cried Alwyn excitedly.

 

Heliobas eyed him with something of scorn. “Naturally! Are you still so much of a sceptic that you think an ANGEL would have bidden you seek a place that had no existence? Oh, yes! I see you are inclined to treat your ethereal adventure as a mere dream,—

but I know it was a reality, more real than anything in this present world.” And turning to the loaded bookshelves he took down a large volume, and spread it open on the table.

 

“You know this book?” he asked.

 

Alwyn glanced at it. “The Bible! Of course!” he replied indifferently. “Everybody knows it!”

 

“Pardon!” and Heliobas smiled. “It would be more correct to say nobody knows it. To read is not always to understand. There are meanings and mysteries in it which have never yet been penetrated, and which only the highest and most spiritually gifted intellects can ever hope to unravel. Now” … and he turned over the pages carefully till he came to the one he sought, “I think there is something here that will interest you—listen!” and he read aloud, “‘The Angel Uriel came unto me and said: Go into a field of flowers where no house is builded and eat only the flowers of the field—taste no flesh, drink no wine, but eat flowers only. And pray unto the Highest continually, and then will I come and talk to thee. So I went my way into the field which is called ARDATH, … ’”

 

“The very place!” exclaimed Alwyn, eagerly bending over the sacred book; then drawing back with a gesture of disappointment he added, “But you are reading from Esdras, the Apocrypha! an utterly unreliable source of information!”

 

“On the contrary, as reliable as any history ever written,”

rejoined Heliobas calmly. “Study it for yourself, … you will see that the prophet was at that time resident in Babylon; the field he mentions was near the city …”

 

“Yes—WAS!” interrupted Alwyn incredulously.

 

“Was and IS,” continued Heliobas. “No earthquake has crumbled it, no sea has invaded it, and no house has been ‘builded’ thereon. It is, as it was then, a waste field, lying about four miles west of the Babylonian ruins, and there is nothing whatever to hinder you from journeying thither when you please.”

 

Alwyn’s expression as he heard this was one of stupefied amazement. Part of his so-called “dream” had already proved itself true—a “field of Ardath” actually