The Dreamer Of Dreams Part 21

She remembered many faces that rose like ghosts out of the past, calling to her with long-forgotten voices that once she had loved. She remembered hours of triumph when the ultimate dream of happiness had arisen and wrapped her around with its burning flame.

But she had also lived through the long deadly years when nothing more was laid at her feet, when youth had carelessly trodden upon the heart that once had seemed to others a treasure impossible to obtain.

Past--past--all past; but forgotten? Dear G.o.d! ah no! But old age, weary old age from which all flee, whose breath lies like white snow upon the bended head, contains also the balm and benediction of a frosty peace that resembles the face of the night, unstarred and moonless, covering over the glaring joys and gloomy sorrows of yore!

As she was thus wandering on distant sh.o.r.es of her youth, a shadow crossed the s.p.a.ce before her and she looked up. It took her a little time before she could come back to cold reality, till her brain realized that in truth she was now but Zorka the wise old witch.

Eric stood at her side; the flames flared and hissed, covering him with changing jets of light.

Between his hands he held a finished picture. Zorka gave a low cry of surprise, and rose trembling to her feet; there in the unsteady glow of the restless flames she looked upon a face the like of which human hand had never before fixed upon canvas or paper.

The eyes of the painting seemed alive, and seemed to stare with unspeakable rapture upon a sight too marvellous for poor human words to translate into mortal language. There they were with all the extraordinary beauty the h.o.a.ry woman had always known: and more than all, within these eyes the dreamer of dreams had put also another expression which contained all the yearning cry of his own pa.s.sionate, hopeless love.

For many a year old Zorka, the witch, had not shed a single tear--that source of emotion had dried since ages past; but now as she gazed with quivering emotion upon the glory of this unearthly visage she felt how something rose up from her heart, warm and suffocating, clutching at her strangled throat, till one by one warm drops ran down her furrowed cheeks, leaving s.h.i.+ning wet lines upon her leathery skin like little streams of rain on hard-baked earth.

Eric watched her, but never spoke a word; he stood motionless, his arms hanging at his sides, tired and resigned, as one who can fight no more.

Overhead the white falcon circled and circled, uttering small weird shrieks like some one in pain; and as it moved about in the inky sky the blue diamond round its neck shone like a moving star.

"My son," spoke Zorka at last, "thy work is great and wonderful; and truly it could never be said of one who had fas.h.i.+oned so blessed a beauty that his life had been lived in vain. But I perceive that thy human longing is for ever unstilled; and now some inner truth has broken in upon my far-seeing brain, and these are the words I have to speak to thee:

"Go to the woman that thy heart loveth too well--go, for such is the unwritten law of this earth; go and take her in thy living arms and teach her with a kiss all the joy and all the sorrow of the world. And what the great G.o.d above desires that the end should be is not for us, who are but fas.h.i.+oned from His dust, to presume to foresee. Go, and I in the silence of the night shall remain here to watch and pray!"

Eric did as he was bid; laying the picture his hands had created down by the side of the reader of signs, he silently vanished into the dark.

The fire flared into a renewed burst of flame, and stretched out long arms of red glowing light as if endeavouring to call him back. Then a cold gust of wind swept over the waste and covered all around with clouds of smoke.

XXIV

A song of deathless Love, immortal, Sunrise-haired and starry-eyed and wondrous.

FIONA MACLEOD.

Within the tent where Stella lived each thing was sweet and pure.

Her magic charm had spread over all she touched.

Old Zorka had thus decreed that she should always have a dwelling that need be shared with none. It was as poor a place as those around, but within the folding walls was a haven of rest and peace.

On its rustic canvas sides hung all the withered wreaths that day by day she had worn. The one she had just removed from her tresses was still quite fresh, and softly swayed over the door.

Eric had found in the early morn, beneath a protecting tree, a whole bunch of scarlet strawberry leaves that the autumnal frosts had not yet touched; he had wound therefrom a lovely garland, all crimson and red, that throughout the day had crowned the loved one's brow.

A fire close by cast a friendly light through every crevice, so that the humble dwelling looked warm and homely, in spite of its barren poorness and the drear solitude upon which it stood.

Before the wide-open entry sat the mysterious maiden on an ancient wooden chest, her much-loved violin, as always, pressed tenderly beneath her cheek.

She played and played, and out of the darkness Fate was coming towards her, treading with noiseless feet.... Still she played on, all else forgotten or never even seen, tunes almost too sweet for human ear to bear. But to-day there was something within them resembling the sighs of a wandering soul that longs for what it cannot reach.

Something there was that perhaps the cold night air wafted to her sleeping soul--something that held a warning that the tides of life were at last gradually rising to creep close to her heart, for she suddenly laid down the faithful friend that would no more give forth the sounds she was wont to hear.

Each time she drew the bow across its melodious chords, the notes it uttered were like the cry of a lost spirit in dire distress.

So she sat gazing into the pitchy darkness with something unknown and frightening, fluttering amidst the strings of her heart. And there out of the shadows of the lonely night a human form rose and stood beside her, with arms outstretched. Then Eric was on his knees before her, and drew the slowly awakening maiden within the unbounded tenderness of his yearning arms.

The whole world seemed alive with a leaping promise of coming fulfilment.

And then, oh wonder of wonders, he laid his lips upon the heart of the girl, the girl who would not look upon his face.

And as he did so he perceived how an indescribable light of dawning comprehension spread slowly over all her features, and awoke like two luminous torches in both her eyes.

Then at last her gaze met his ... twin flames of purest beauty, in which, quite gradually, all the hidden treasures of unconceived ecstasies rose one by one in an overwhelming flood too strong for human strength to sustain. Awful, wonderful, terrifying ... and yet so sweet, so sweet that no halting tongue could ever describe such marvellous revelations. Almost imperceptibly she bent her angelic lips nearer his, so that the vision of his dreams was all at once looking into his upturned face, with eyes into which a G.o.d-given splendour had suddenly come in a burst of pa.s.sionate understanding.

Never had the exquisite orbs been so sweet, never had the ethereal face shone with a more divine light;--and a voice that seemed to come from the far-off distances of the land of mystery p.r.o.nounced these words:

"Where have I been? To what regions have I come? What is this dazzling splendour that rushes through my being like a leaping river of Life?

What is this dear face I see gazing into mine, what is this bounding joy that wants to burst the confines of my overstrained heart? Oh what--oh what does it mean?"

Drawing herself up she stood, both hands pressed on her heaving breast, as if her great pain were piercing her through and through.

"What is it?... What is it?... What can it be? I do not understand!"

Eric rose also, and stood trembling before this unheard-of miracle that had come to pa.s.s.

A great fear came to him and swept with a cold wind over his immensity of joy. Would she suddenly close her mind again to his flaming love, now that he had at last aroused her sleeping soul?

"Oh, my love, my love!" he cried. "It is I, it is I, who have come over the distant seas, who have travelled through sun and shade, through storm and calm, who have pa.s.sed through the Shadow of Death to reach the heaven of thy face; look at me with thy awakening eyes, and tell me that life is sweet."

"Life!" said the girl, her two hands still tightly clutching at her pulsing heart.

"Life, what is Life?"

"Life," cried Eric, "is contained in this one hour of perfect attainment. Life is the great promise of love fulfilled. Life is the sacred moment when my arms may clasp thee to my thirsting soul!

"Come, my beloved, for I have waited so cruelly long, so tirelessly have I searched and yearned!"

Stella, moved by some unknown, mysterious force, timidly drew near to this stranger man, whose face was as fair as the angels with whom in her visions she had always dwelt.

But what was this waking joy--this tumultuous tide of intensest bliss?

Something too strong, too strong, something that no living mortal could bear.... And yet now she lay within his pa.s.sionate arms, her head hidden against his throbbing straining heart.

In an agony of delight no words can describe, his lips, his warm living lips, were drinking her very soul away--drawing by slow degrees her sweet hardly-dawning life to mix with his boundless need.

He knew that this was the ultimate limit of his soul's desire, a moment of such incommensurable joy, that body and soul flowed together into a sunrise of dazzling triumph. All that had been, was as if it had never existed. Past, present, and future were caught up and welded together into a blaze of unearthly rapture.