'Thou hast truly said. I have a mission to speak for Nika. My words must necessarily be few and to the point. She pines with the weight of the curse of Hecate, and asks thy intercession.'

'Ah! I see through it all. Nika, the torturer, the serpent, would rob Saronia, and thou, half-hearted, art tottering on thy throne.'

'No, Saronia. Hear me!'

'I will _not_. Listen thou to me. If this curse were removed, thou wouldst marry her. She knows thou never wilt whilst it remains. I have not power to undo what my G.o.ddess binds. Had I, Saronia would _never_ be the one to feather an arrow for Nika. No, no; go thy way! Choose ye whom ye will love. I will never force thee to love me, neither will I help thee to love another. Farewell!' and, turning sharply, she went, and as she pa.s.sed away turned again, and gave one look of love, so tenderly that the great tears swept down the cheeks of Chios. She saw them, and read his answering love.

He was alone. The Temple, with all its grandeur, was a tomb. He staggered to a seat, and for a while seemed as if his soul had gone away. Then, arousing himself, he gazed long and lovingly at the spot where she had stood near the altar steps, and then went out into the fierce glare of the sun.

Pa.s.sing from the Temple, he espied a stranger coming towards him. As he approached, he discovered him to be the man he met very nearly at the same place when the great procession pa.s.sed.

'We have met again,' said Judah. 'How hast thou fared? Thou dost not seem happy.'

'Thou hast rightly said. I suffer.'

'Perhaps I may comfort thee. It will not be the first time I have ministered to such complaint.'

'No, thou canst not. My sorrow is too deep to be fathomed, and too sacred to expose.'

'I like thy thoughts, young man. Wert thou taught them yonder?' pointing towards the Temple.

'No; they are the fruit of a mind that receives no impetus from such fraud as so-called worship is.'

'Thou speakest strongly. What knowest thou of worship? A mind perturbed like thine is like a troubled sea, with never a place for calm. The worshipping soul is not thine.'

'True, friend; I may not be a worshipper, neither wish to be one. This life is a mystery; the next a deeper one. If we cannot understand this earth-life, and are unable to trust mortals whom we see and know, how, then, can we trust those whom we have not seen?'

'Shall we bestow our affections on the G.o.ds, who may not exist save in our imagination, or, if they be, for all we know, they may ridicule our adoration, make sport of us, tools of us to suit some purpose in pursuit of their own glory.'

'Art thou a philosopher?'

'I am an artist.'

'Why followest thou this profession?'

'Because I love it.'

'Hast thou fame, riches?'

'Yea, sufficient.'

'Why dost thou work?'

'That I may portray Nature in her beauteous forms, and give them forth to the people, that they may ever have the truth in trees and flowers and the ever-changing sea.'

'Thou hast a benevolent spirit, and thy works betray such. Is it not so?'

'Man should not herald every atom of good he possesses.'

'That is true; but, nevertheless, a man's works reflect his inner being.

What is thy name?'

'Chios.'

'A Greek?'

'It is so.'

'Then listen, Chios the Ionian. If thou canst be judged by thy works, judge ye the Creator of Nature by the same law. The G.o.d who made the pine-tree shoot forth from the darkling earth and grow upwards towards the vaulted heaven, clothing its foliage with the morning mist as with a garment; winged the great eagle which gazes on the sun, and made him a home amongst the rocks on yonder mountain-side; painted the petals of the rose which scatters perfume on the languid air--He who rolls the waves towards the sh.o.r.e, breaking eternally by His decree; the G.o.d who made the loveliest form in which a soul ere robed itself; fills the fruitful earth with food for men--judge Him, I say, by His works, as I have judged thee by thine. Are not His acts benevolent--are they not proofs of love? Thy acts are feeble attempts, and so are mine--little imitations, the outcome of His breath within us. His are boundless, eternal, and show forth His guardian care for all His creatures.'

'I never looked at the matter in this way,' replied Chios. 'Thou seemest right. There must be a great First Cause behind all this, and it does appear His motive is unselfish.'

'In that thou sayest truly, for G.o.d is love.'

'What! So have the G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses of Greece that pa.s.sion; and, if our traditions be correct, they loved too well, and made fools of themselves.'

'Again, Chios, thou art wise. I say thou art also true; but the loves of the Grecian G.o.ds is not the love of my G.o.d. The traditions of your Ionian faith are lies. There are no G.o.ds but One. The pa.s.sions imputed to them are but reflections of that which is impure in man. That which dwells in the bosom of the Infinite is purer than the river at its source, rising into light through the fissures of the rock. The best of man's love is selfish, and we exchange love for love. Men do not bestow their affections on those who hate them, but the Eternal One loves all with an amplitude beyond comprehension. "For G.o.d so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that we might have life eternal."'

'What dost thou mean by life eternal?'

'This: that thy life may spread out into the great future, and the spirit be young when the stars grow dim and the sun be dead, and knowledge acc.u.mulate higher and deeper, joy broaden out as the aeons on aeons pa.s.s slowly behind thee, gathering in number like sands on the sea-sh.o.r.e; but never a shadow of death will lay on thee--never thy years will cease to be numberless. Thou wilt begin it, never wilt end it--end there is none.'

'Thou art mighty in thy thoughts. I would know more of thee.'

'Nay, it matters not to thee what of myself. My purpose will be served if I can lead thy mind into the channel of truth. I deem it fair to say, thy face being once set towards the goal, thou wilt pursue thy course till all is well.'

'Thou thinkest too highly of me.'

'No.'

'Well, this I promise, good man: I will give fairest of hearing to thy teachings, and hope thou mayest implant the seed of a good faith, which may spring up and bear a bountiful harvest; but tell me ere we part, in the great life thou speakest of where is my future home? who are my companions?'

'They shall kindred spirits be. What thou makest thyself here determines whom thou shalt dwell with yonder. Thine abode shall suit thy soul. Here men of evil build palaces and dwell therein, whilst others, as pure as the mountain breeze, crawl in and out a hovel or a rocky cave; but in the new life this shall not be. In what part of the mighty universe thou wilt begin thy course I cannot tell--perchance one of those bright orbs of light which shine forth so sweetly may be thy home. Then on and on, through s.p.a.ce illimitable, but always nearer the infinite. Here mother and father greeted thee, but yonder, where there is no marrying or giving in marriage, G.o.d Himself shall be all in all, and meet thy coming. Take this parchment; I have written it for thee. Read it well; bend thine heart in prayer, seek communion with the Great Spirit that He may give thee light, for without such the words of man are useless. I wish thee well, Chios, and will see thee again.'

As he pa.s.sed away, Chios felt such a sense of loneliness as he had never before experienced. A faint dawn was breaking, and he murmured: 'Where there is no marrying or giving in marriage;' and the dark eyes of Saronia seemed to gaze steadily into his soul, until he cried: 'We must follow hand in hand through the life that is to be. Light without her would be darkness; life, however long, would be eternal death!'

CHAPTER XX

PLEADING

When Chios next saw Nika there was a look of great anxiety on her beautiful face. She said:

'Well, hast thou seen Saronia?'