The Works of "Fiona Macleod", Volume IV. Sharp Elizabeth Amelia

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СКАЧАТЬ put his wavering, wrinkled hand to his withered mouth. He gave a chuckling laugh.

      "Ah, I understand now. It is a joke you are playing on old Ian."

      "Maybe ay, and maybe no, Ian; but I do want to know how they seem to you, those two yonder."

      "Well, well, now, for sure, that friend of yours there, that spoke first, he is just a weary, tired old man, like I am myself, and so like me, now that I look at him, that he might be my wraith. And the other, he is a fine lad, a fisher-lad for sure, though I fear God's gripped his heart, for I see the old ancient sorrow in his eyes."

      I stared: then suddenly I understood.

      "Good-day, Ian," I added hurriedly, "and the blessing of Himself be upon you and yours, and upon the nets and the boats."

      Then I moved slowly towards my companions, who awaited me. I understood now. The old fisherman had seen after his own kind. The Will, the Soul, which for the first time had journeyed outside our common home, had to take upon themselves bodily presences likewise. But these wavering images were to others only the reflection of whoso looked upon them. Old Ian had seen his own tired self and his lost youth. With a new fear the Body called to us, and we to him; and we were one, yet three; and so we went onward together.

III

      We were silent. It is not easy for three, so closely knit, so intimate, as we had been for so many years, suddenly to enter upon a new comradeship, wherein three that had been as one were now several. A new reticence had come to each of us. We walked in silence – conscious of the beauty of the day, in sea and sky and already purpling moors; of the white gulls flecking the azure, and the yellowhammers and stonechats flitting among the gorse and fragrant bog-myrtle – we knew that none was inclined to speak. Each had his own thoughts.

      The three dreamers – for so we were in that lovely hour of dream – walked steadfastly onward. It was not more than an hour after noon that we came to an inlet of the sea, so narrow that it looked like a stream, only that a salt air arose between the irises which thickly bordered it, and that the sunken rock-ledges were fragrant with sea-pink and the stone-convolvulus. The moving tidal water was grass-green, save where dusked with long, mauve shadows.

      "Let us rest here," said the Body. "It is so sweet in the sunlight, here by this cool water."

      The Will smiled as he threw himself down upon a mossy slope that reached from an oak's base to the pebbly margins.

      "It is ever so with you," he said, still smiling. "You love rest, as the wandering clouds love the waving hand of the sun."

      "What made you think of that?" asked the Soul abruptly, who till that moment had been rapt in silent commune with his inmost thoughts.

      "Why do you ask?"

      "Because I, too, was thinking that just as the waving hand of the sun beckons the white wandering clouds, as a shepherd calls to his scattered sheep, so there is a hand waving to us to press forward. Far away, yonder, a rainbow is being woven of sun and mist. Perhaps, there, we may come upon that which we have come out to see."

      "But the Body wishes to rest. And, truly, it is sweet here in the sunflood, and by this moving green water, which whispers in the reeds and flags, and sings its own sea-song the while."

      "Let us rest, then."

      And, as we lay there, a great peace came upon us. There were hushed tears in the eyes of the Soul, and a dreaming smile upon the face of the Will, and, in the serene gaze of the Body, a content that was exceeding sweet. It was so welcome to lie there and dream. We knew a rare happiness in that exquisite quietude.

      After a time, the Body rose, and moved to the water-edge.

      "It is so lovely," he said, "I must bathe" – and with that he threw aside his clothes, and stood naked among the reeds and yellow flags which bordered the inlet.

      The sun shone upon his white body, the colour of pale ivory. A delicate shadow lightly touched him, now here, now there, from the sunlit green sheaths and stems among which he stood. He laughed out of sheer joy and raised his arms, and made a splashing with his trampling feet.

      Looking backward with a blithe glance, he cried:

      "After all, it is good to be alive: neither to think nor to dream, but just content to be."

      Receiving no answer, he laughed merrily, and, plunging forward, swam seaward against the sun-dazzle.

      His two companions watched him with shining eyes.

      "Truly, he is very fair to look upon," said the Soul.

      "Yes," added the Will, "and perhaps he has chosen the better part elsewhere as here."

      "Can it be the better part to prefer the things of the moment of those of Eternity?"

      "What is Eternity?"

      For a few seconds the Soul was silent. It was not easy for him to understand that what was a near horizon to him was a vague vista, possibly a mirage, to another. He was ever, in himself, moving just the hither side of the narrow mortal horizon which Eternity swims in upon from behind and beyond. The Will looked at him questioningly, then spoke again:

      "You speak of the things of Eternity. What is Eternity?"

      "Eternity is the Breath of God."

      "That tells me nothing."

      "It is Time, freed from his Mortality."

      "Again, that tells me little. Or, rather, I am no wiser. What is Eternity to us?"

      "It is our perpetuity."

      "Then is it only a warrant against Death?"

      "No, it is more. Time is our sphere: Eternity is our home."

      "There is no other lesson for you in the worm, and in the dust?"

      "What do you mean, brother?"

      "Does dissolution mean nothing to you?"

      "What is dissolution?"

      It was now the Will who stared with wondering eyes. To him that question was as disquieting as that which he had asked the Soul. It was a minute before he spoke again.

      "You ask me what is dissolution? Do you not understand what death means to me?"

      "Why to you more than to me, or to the Body?"

      "What is it to you?"

      "A change from a dream of Beauty, to Beauty."

      "And at the worst?"

      "Freedom: escape from narrow walls – often dark and foul."

      "In any case nothing but a change, a swift and absolute change, from what was to what is?"

      "Even so."

      "And you have no fear?"

      "None. Why should I?"

      "Why should you not?"

      Again there was a sudden silence between the two. At last the Soul spoke:

      "Why should I СКАЧАТЬ