The Life Everlasting: A Reality of Romance Part 16

He preceded us out of the saloon and showed us the State-rooms, of which there were five, daintily furnished in white and blue and white and rose.

"These are for my guests when I have any," he said, "Which is very seldom. This for a princess--if ever one should honour me with her presence!"

And he opened a door on his right, through which we peered into a long, lovely room, gleaming with iridescent hues and sparkling with touches of gold and crystal. The bed was draped with cloudy lace through which a s.h.i.+mmer of pale rose-colour made itself visible, and the carpet of dark moss-green formed a perfect setting for the quaintly shaped furniture, which was all of sandal-wood inlaid with ivory. On a small table of carved ivory in the centre of the room lay a bunch of Madonna lilies tied with a finely twisted cord of gold. We murmured our admiration, and Santoris addressed himself directly to me for the first time since we had come on board.

"Will you go in and rest for a while till luncheon?" he said--"I placed the lilies there for your acceptance."

The colour rushed to my cheeks,--I looked up at him in a little wonderment.

"But I am not a princess!"

His eyes smiled down into mine.

"No? Then I must have dreamed you were!"

My heart gave a quick throb,--some memory touched my brain, but what it was I could not tell. Mr. Harland glanced at me and laughed.

"What did I tell you the other day?" he said--"Did I not call you the princess of a fairy tale? I was not far wrong!"

They left me to myself then, and as I stood alone in the beautiful room which had thus been placed at my disposal, a curious feeling came over me that these luxurious surroundings were, after all, not new to my experience. I had been accustomed to them for a great part of my life.

Stay!--how foolish of me!--'a great part of my life'?--then what part of it? I briefly reviewed my own career,--a difficult and solitary childhood,--the hard and uphill work which became my lot as soon as I was old enough to work at all,--incessant study, and certainly no surplus of riches. Then where had I known luxury? I sank into a chair, dreamily considering. The floating scent of sandal-wood and the perfume of lilies commingled was like the breath of an odorous garden in the East, familiar to me long ago, and as I sat musing I became conscious of a sudden inrush of power and sense of dominance which lifted me as it were above myself, as though I had, without any warning, been given the full control of a great kingdom and its people. Catching sight of my own reflection in an opposite mirror, I was startled and almost afraid at the expression of my face, the proud light in my eyes, the smile on my lips.

"What am I thinking of!" I said, half aloud--"I am not my true self to-day,--some remnant of a cast-off pride has arisen in me and made me less of a humble student. I must not yield to this overpowering demand on my soul,--it is surely an evil suggestion which a.s.serts itself like the warning pain or fever of an impending disease. Can it be the influence of Santoris? No!--I will never believe it!"

And yet a vague uneasiness beset me, and I rose and paced about restlessly,--then pausing where the lovely Madonna lilies lay on the ivory table, I remembered they had been put there for me. I raised them gently, inhaling their delicious fragrance, and as I did so, saw, lying immediately underneath them, a golden Cross of a mystic shape I knew well,--its upper half set on the face of a seven-pointed Star, also of gold. With joy I took it up and kissed it reverently, and as I compared it with the one I always secretly wore on my own person, I knew that all was well, and that I need have no distrust of Rafel Santoris. No injurious effect on my mind could possibly be exerted by his influence--and I was thrown back on myself for a clue to that singular wave of feeling, so entirely contrary to my own disposition, which had for a moment overwhelmed me. I could not trace its source, but I speedily conquered it. Fastening one of the snowy lilies in my waistband, as a contrast to the bright bit of bell-heather which I cherished even more than if it were a jewel, I presently went up on deck, where I found my host, Mr. Harland, Captain Derrick and Marino Fazio all talking animatedly together.

"The mystery is cleared up,"--said Mr. Harland, addressing me as I approached--"Captain Derrick is satisfied. He has learned how one of the finest schooners he has ever seen can make full speed in any weather without wind."

"Oh no, I haven't learned how to do it,--I'm a long way off that!"--said Derrick, good-humouredly--"But I've seen how it's done.

And it's marvellous! If that invention could be applied to all s.h.i.+ps--"

"Ah!--but first of all it would be necessary to instruct the s.h.i.+pbuilders!"--put in Fazio--"They would have to learn their trade all over again. Our yacht looks as though she were built on the same lines as all yachts,--but you know--you have seen--she is entirely different!"

Captain Derrick gave a nod of grave emphasis. Santoris meantime had come to my side. Our glances met,--he saw that I had received and understood the message of the lilies, and a light and colour came into his eyes that made them beautiful.

"Men have not yet fully enjoyed their heritage," he said, taking up the conversation--"Our yacht's motive power seems complex, but in reality it is very simple,--and the same force which propels this light vessel would propel the biggest liner afloat. Nature has given us all the materials for every kind of work and progress, physical and mental--but because we do not at once comprehend them we deny their uses. Nothing in the air, earth or water exists which we may not press into our service,--and it is in the study of natural forces that we find our conquest. What hundreds of years it took us to discover the wonders of steam!--how the discoverer was mocked and laughed at!--yet it was not really 'wonderful'--it was always there, waiting to be employed, and wasted by mere lack of human effort. One can say the same of electricity, sometimes called 'miraculous'--it is no miracle, but perfectly common and natural, only we have, until now, failed to apply it to our needs,--and even when wider disclosures of science are being made to us every day, we still bar knowledge by obstinacy, and remain in ignorance rather than learn. A few grains in weight of hydrogen have power enough to raise a million tons to a height of more than three hundred feet,--and if we could only find a way to liberate economically and with discretion the various forces which Spirit and Matter contain, we might change the whole occupation of man and make of him less a labourer than thinker, less mortal than angel! The wildest fairy-tales might come true, and earth be transformed into a paradise! And as for motive power, in a thimbleful of concentrated fuel we might take the largest s.h.i.+p across the widest ocean. I say if we could only find a way! Some think they are finding it--"

"You, for example?"--suggested Mr. Harland.

He laughed.

"I--if you like!--for example! Will you come to luncheon?"

He led the way, and Mr. Harland and I followed. Captain Derrick, who I saw was a little afraid of him, had arranged to take his luncheon with Fazio and the other officers of the crew apart. We were waited upon by dark-skinned men attired in the picturesque costume of the East, who performed their duties with noiseless grace and swiftness. The yacht had for some time slackened speed, and appeared to be merely floating lazily on the surface of the calm water. We were told she could always do this and make almost imperceptible headway, provided there was no impending storm in the air. It seemed as if we were scarcely moving, and the whole atmosphere surrounding us expressed the most delicious tranquillity. The luncheon prepared for us was of the daintiest and most elegant description, and Mr. Harland, who on account of his ill-health seldom had any appet.i.te, enjoyed it with a zest and heartiness I had never seen him display before. He particularly appreciated the wine, a rich, ruby-coloured beverage which was unlike anything I had ever tasted.

"There is nothing remarkable about it,"--said Santoris, I when questioned as to its origin--"It is simply REAL wine,--though you may say that of itself is remarkable, there being none in the market. It is the pure juice of the grape, prepared in such a manner as to nourish the blood without inflaming it. It can do you no harm,--in fact, for you, Harland, it is an excellent thing."

"Why for me in particular?" queried Harland, rather sharply.

"Because you need it,"--answered Santoris--"My dear fellow, you are not in the best of health. And you will never get better under your present treatment."

I looked up eagerly.

"That is what I, too, have thought,"--I said--"only I dared not express it!"

Mr. Harland surveyed me with an amused smile.

"Dared not! I know nothing you would not dare!--but with all your boldness, you are full of mere theories,--and theories never made an ill man well yet."

Santoris exchanged a swift glance with me. Then he spoke:--

"Theory without practice is, of course, useless,"--he said--"But surely you can see that this lady has reached a certain plane of thought on which she herself dwells in health and content? And can she not serve you as an object lesson?"

"Not at all,"--replied Mr. Harland, almost testily--"She is a woman whose life has been immersed in study and contemplation, and because she has allowed herself to forego many of the world's pleasures she can be made happy by a mere nothing--a handful of roses--or the sound of sweet music--"

"Are they 'nothings'?"--interrupted Santoris.

"To business men they are--"

"And business itself? Is it not also from some points of view a 'nothing'?"

"Santoris, if you are going to be 'transcendental' I will have none of you!" said Mr. Harland, with a vexed laugh--"What I wish to say is merely this--that my little friend here, for whom I have a great esteem, let me a.s.sure her!--is not really capable of forming an opinion of the condition of a man like myself, nor can she judge of the treatment likely to benefit me. She does not even know the nature of my illness--but I can see that she has taken a dislike to my physician, Brayle--"

"I never 'take dislikes,' Mr. Harland,"--I interrupted, quickly--"I merely trust to a guiding instinct which tells me when a man is sincere or when he is acting a part. That's all."

"Well, you've decided that Brayle is not sincere,"--he replied--"And you hardly think him clever. But if you would consider the point logically--you might enquire what motive could he possibly have for playing the humbug with me?"

Santoris smiled.

"Oh, man of 'business'! YOU can ask that?"

We were at the end of luncheon,--the servants had retired, and Mr.

Harland was sipping his coffee and smoking a cigar.

"You can ask that?" he repeated--"You, a millionaire, with one daughter who is your sole heiress, can ask what motive a man like Brayle,--worldly, calculating and without heart--has in keeping you both--both, I say--you and your daughter equally--in his medical clutches?"

Mr. Harland's sharp eyes flashed with a sudden menace.

"If I thought--" he began--then he broke off. Presently he resumed--"You are not aware of the true state of affairs, Santoris.

Wizard and scientist as you are, you cannot know everything! I need constant medical attendance--and my disease is incurable--"

"No!"--said Santoris, quietly--"Not incurable."

A sudden hope illumined Harland's worn and haggard face.

"Not incurable! But--my good fellow, you don't even know what it is!"

"I do. I also know how it began, and when,--how it has progressed, and how it will end. I know, too, how it can be checked--cut off in its development, and utterly destroyed,--but the cure would depend on yourself more than on Dr. Brayle or any other physician. At present no good is being done and much harm. For instance, you are in pain now?"