"If I am wrong, forgive me," I went on in a pleading tone. "Blame the spell your beauty has cast over me, but do not banish me from your presence, which is life and light to me."
"Wrong!" she murmured, lifting her wondrous eyes to mine. "Can it be wrong to love, or to speak of love? Why should I send you away from me because you love me? Is not love the glory of the heart, as the sun is the glory of the world? Rejoice, then, in your love as I do in mine."
"As you do?"
"Yes, as I do. I should have spoken sooner, but my heart was full of happiness. For I also love you. I have loved you from the beginning."
With a cry of unspeakable joy I sprang from the boat, and would have flung myself at her feet to kiss her hand or the hem of her garment, but she drew back with a look of apprehension.
"Touch me not," she said gravely, "for by the custom of our land I am holy. Until to-morrow at sunset I am consecrated to The Giver."
"Pardon my ignorance," I responded rather crestfallen. "Your will shall be my law. I only wished to manifest my eternal grat.i.tude and devotion to you."
"Kneel not to me," she rejoined, "but rather to The Giver, who has so strangely brought us together. How many ages we might have wandered from world to world without finding each other again!"
"You think we have met before then?" I enquired eagerly, for the same thought had been haunting my own mind. It seemed to me that I had known Alumion always.
"a.s.suredly," she replied, "for you and I are kindred souls who have been separated in another world, by death or evil; and now that we have met again, let us be faithful and loving to each other."
"Nothing shall separate us any more."
The words had scarcely pa.s.sed my lips when the same terrible cry which I had heard once before sounded from the interior of the grotto.
Alumion called or rather sang out a response to the cry, which I did not understand, then said to me in her ordinary voice,
"It is Siloo. I must go now and give him food."
I was curious to know who or what was Siloo, but did not dare to ask.
She raised her arms gracefully and smiled a sweet farewell.
"Are you going to leave me like that?" said I.
"What would you have?" she answered, turning towards the cave.
"In my country lovers bind themselves by mutual vows."
"What need of vows? Have we not confessed our loves?"
"Will you not tell me when I shall see you again? Will you not say when you will be mine--when you will marry me?"
A blush mounted to her cheek as she answered with a divine glance,
"Meet me at sunset to-morrow, and I will be yours."
As yet I had not mentioned my adventure with Alumion to any of my companions, but that night I said to Gazen, as we smoked our cigars together,
"Wish me joy, old fellow! I am going to be married."
He seemed quite dumbfounded, and I rather think he fancied that I must have come to an understanding with Miss Carmichael.
"Really!" said he with the air of a man plucking up heart after an unexpected blow. "May I ask who is the lady?"
"The Priestess of the Lily."
"The Priestess!" he exclaimed utterly astonished, but at the same time vastly relieved. "The Priestess! Come, now, you are joking."
"Never was more serious in my life."
Then I told him what had happened, how I had met her, and my engagement to marry her.
"If you will take my advice," said he dryly, "you"ll do nothing of the kind."
"Why?"
"Have you considered the matter?" he replied significantly.
"Considered the matter! A love like mine does not "consider the matter"
as though it were a problem in Euclid. With such a woman as Alumion a lover does not stop to "consider the matter," unless he is a fool."
"A woman--yes; but remember that she is a woman of another planet. She might not make a suitable wife for you."
"I love her. I love her as I can never love a woman of our world. She is a thousand times more beautiful and good than any woman I have ever known. She is an ideal woman--a perfect woman--an angel in human form."
"That may be; but what will her family say?"
"My dear Gazen, don"t you know they manage these things better here.
Thank goodness, the "family" does not interfere with love affairs in this happy land! We love each other, we have agreed to be married, and that is quite sufficient. No need to get the "consent of the parents,"
or make a "settlement," or give out the banns, or buy a government license as though a wife were contraband goods, or hire a string of four-wheelers, or tip the pew-opener. What has love to do with pew-openers? Why should the finest thing in life become the prey of such vulgar parasites? Why should our heavenliest moments be profaned and spoiled by needless worries--hateful to the name of love? Our wedding will be very simple. We shall not even want you as groomsman or Miss Carmichael as bridesmaid. I daresay we shall get along without cake and speeches, and as for the rice and old boots, upon my word, I don"t think we shall miss them."
"And if it is a fair question, when will the--the simple ceremony take place?"
"To-morrow evening."
"To-morrow evening!" exclaimed the professor, taken by surprise. "I thought a priestess could not marry."
"To-morrow at sunset she will be a free woman. Her priesthood will come to an end."
"And--pardon me--but what are you going to do with her when you"ve got her? Will you bring her home to the car--there is very little room here, as you know. Do you propose to take her to the earth, where I"m afraid she will probably die like a tender plant or a bird of paradise in a cage? Do you think her father would consent to that?"
"We are not going away just yet. There will be time enough to arrange about that."
"Well, we can"t stay here much longer. I must get back to my work--and you know we intended to pay a flying visit to Mercury, and if possible to get a closer look at the sun."
"All right. You can go as soon as you like. I shall remain behind.
Carmichael will take you to the earth, and then come back here for me."
"You talk as if it were merely a question of a drive."
"I think we have proved that it is not more dangerous to go from one planet to another than it is to get about town."