Part 11 (1/2)
”True, Paul, there are none to hinder us,” she replied seriously, ”that is, no one but--but--”
She paused, not knowing how to proceed.
”Then there is some one,” cried Paul earnestly. ”I thought as much.
Who might the gentleman be?”
”Yourself!” exclaimed Dorothy, her eyes still fixed upon the ground.
”Myself!” shouted he in amazement. ”Do you mean to say that I should oppose my own marriage with the girl I love?”
”You might,” she answered demurely, casting a side glance up at him, and allowing the very faintest, saddest kind of smile to rest for an instant upon her face.
”Well!” said Paul, ”I do not suppose you will explain what you mean, but it would be only natural that I should like to know.”
”I only mean,” she replied, resuming her meditative att.i.tude, ”that you do not know me; that you neither know who nor what I am. If I did not love you, I might deceive and entrap you, but not under the circ.u.mstances.”
Later they returned to the house.
7
It was not until Mr. Henley had made another and longer visit to the dark room that he became convinced beyond all doubt that the work of sealing up the place had been done from within, and that there was, and had been, no other outlet but that through which he had entered.
To suppose that the main wall of the house had been closed in at a later period would be preposterous, and for manifest reasons. His examination of the room's interior had been most thorough and exhaustive. The place was smoothly plastered upon the inside, and even the mason's trowel had been found upon the floor within, so that it became at once evident that those who had done the work had been self-immured. Although the reason for such an act was utterly beyond his comprehension, Paul felt a certain satisfaction in having reached this conclusion, as it showed the impossibility of Dorothy's being in any way implicated in the affair. It seemed even possible that she was ignorant of it. But this discovery in no wise lessened the mystery; it rather increased it.
A few evenings after Paul's decision regarding the self-immurement of those discovered in the vault, he and Ah Ben were again enjoying their pipes by the great fireplace in the hall. The elder man was generally disposed to conversation at this hour; and after Dorothy had retired, Paul alluded to the strange scene he had witnessed through the chimney, and expressed a desire to learn something of occultism. Taking his long-stemmed pipe from his lips, the old man gazed earnestly into the fire. He seemed to be thinking of what to say, and to be drawing inspiration from the glowing embers and dancing flames before him. At last he spoke:
”Occultism, Mr. Henley, is difficult--nay, almost impossible--to explain to a layman; or if explained, remains incomprehensible; and yet a child may acquire its secrets by its individual efforts.
Spiritual power comes to those who seek it in proper mood, but, injudiciously exercised, may cause insanity.”
”Nevertheless,” urged Paul, ”if you won't consider me a trifler, I should like to see a further manifestation of the power.”
Ah Ben looked at him compa.s.sionately.
”Pardon me, Mr. Henley,” he said, ”but it is not always well to gratify our curiosity upon such a subject; but if you seriously wish it, and can believe in me as an honest and honorable custodian of the power, and will prepare yourself for a serious mental shock, I will show you something.”
”Before proceeding,” said Paul, ”I should like to ask you a question.
Was the room I saw through the chimney a real room? I mean had it any material existence upon earth?”
”Most a.s.suredly. It was a scene in my early childhood, and originated in the Valley of the Jhelum, in the Punjab. The officer and lady were my parents. It was the last time I ever saw them. I was the boy.”
”May I ask how it is possible to reproduce a scene so long pa.s.sed out of existence, and which took place so many thousand miles away?”
”Easily told, but not so easily understood by one whose mind has never been trained to think in these occult channels,” answered the elder man; ”for to understand the thing at all, you must first divest your mind of time and s.p.a.ce as outside ent.i.ties, for these are in reality but modes of thought, and have only such value as we give them. India, doubtless, seems very far to you, but to one whose powers of will have been sufficiently developed, it is no farther than the wall of this room. So it is with time. How can we see that which no longer exists? But a little reflection will show us that even on the physical plane we see that which does not exist every day of our lives. Look at the stars. The light by which some of them are recognized has been millions of years in transit, so that we do not behold them as they are tonight, but as they were at that remote period of time; meanwhile they may have been wrecked and scattered in meteoric dust.”
”But that is hardly an explanation of the scene referred to,”
answered Paul. ”Whenever I direct my eyes in the right quarter, the stars are visible; whether they be actually there or not, they are there to me; but not so with the vision of the room. In my normal condition there is no room there, while in my normal condition the stars are always there.”
”True, and because your normal condition is sympathetically attuned to the vibrations of starlight. Your consciousness is located in your brain, and so long as those vibrations continue to strike with sufficient force upon the optic nerve, you will be conscious of the light. But suppose the machinery of your body were finer--suppose your senses were absolutely in accord with those vibratory movements, instead of only partially so--do you not know that the starlight would reveal far more than it now does? Then you would see not only the light, but the scenes that are carried in the light, but which by reason of their obtuseness can not penetrate your senses. Were this improvement in men really achieved, our conceptions of time and s.p.a.ce would be modified, and the condition of other worlds as plainly seen as our own.”