"Time pa.s.sed. And with its pa.s.sage the wheel of fate revolved. By one of those strange chances for which no man can account, the opportunity that the boy longed for fell across his path.
"It came. But it came enveloped in no cloud of glory. The path to the lost inheritance was steep and rugged and dark. He was called upon to leave his mother; to leave the place that, however sordid, however mean, was yet his home; and to enter upon a period of servitude with an unknown master--a man related to him by blood, whom report described as an eccentric--a miser--a madman."
As he said these words a curious thing occurred. A wave of color flushed old Arian"s sightless face; an inarticulate sound escaped him, and he made a tremulous attempt to rise. But the movement was instantly checked by Bale-Corphew, who bent close to him and whispered quickly in his ear.
Neither gesture nor whisper was noted by the Prophet. His own face had paled as if with some deep emotion; and lowering his raised hand, he spoke again with a new, suppressed intensity.
"Then began the vital period of that boy"s career. He left his home--he left the mother he loved--he went into voluntary exile, animated by one purpose. Remember that, my People! He went into the service of this man animated by one purpose--the determination to win back his rightful fortune! And for seven weary years he continued his pursuit. For the seven most vital years of his youth he suppressed every instinct that animates a boy!
"He worked more laboriously than the laborer in the fields, for mental servitude is more galling to the young than any physical strain. But he never faltered; and at last he had the pride of knowing that his end was gained--he had the pride of knowing that he had become indispensable to the master whom he served!" Again he paused, but this time the pause was of impressive weight. Unconsciously, and without a.n.a.lyzing the feeling, every member of the congregation felt that some announcement was pending--that some extraordinary revelation was about to be made.
Enid sat rigid, holding her breath in an agony of suspense, fascinated and appalled by the incomprehensible discourse. Behind the high railing, old Michael Arian"s lips moved rapidly and nervously, as though he were muttering inaudible prayers; while Bale-Corphew"s florid face flamed, as, with a rapid, agitated movement, he glanced over the tense faces of the congregation. For one moment it seemed that he was bracing himself for action, but before his intentions could bear fruit, the voice of the Prophet again rang out across the chapel.
"My People!" he said. "It is now that I appeal to your humanity! It is now that I ask each one of you--men and women--to stand in this boy"s place--this boy, built like yourselves of human desires, human hopes, human weaknesses. After seven long years he touched the knowledge that he had become indispensable; and the bearer of that knowledge was Death--his master"s master!
"Death came; and in his chill presence the boy saw his task completed--laid aside like a written scroll!
"It was the most glorious moment of his life--that moment in which he stood with unshaken faith, looking towards the future. But the darker side of existence was his portion; he had been born to the darker side.
Within one hour of his master"s death, his dreams were dispelled. He learned that, in the eyes of the man he had served, he had never pa.s.sed beyond the position of the outcast--the dependent, whose services are liberally rewarded by the gift of a few hundred pounds. The fortune--the inheritance--the golden mirage, was no longer existent, save as something that did not concern him. By the disposition of his master"s will, it had pa.s.sed into the coffers of a religious body--a fantastic, unknown sect to which the old man had belonged!"
The announcement fell with strange effect. Enid, inspired by sudden terror, rose to her feet; Bale-Corphew sat gripping the arm of his chair, his face contorted, his mouth working, while a rustle, an audible murmur of excitement pa.s.sed over the whole chapel, and the Precursor, who all along had been crouching at the foot of the throne, turned quickly and anxiously towards his master.
But the Prophet rea.s.sured him by a gesture. It seemed that he was exalted by some emotion, lifted above his surroundings by some invisible power.
"Put yourselves in this boy"s place!" he cried. "Was there ever a position so intensely human? The thing he had striven for--the thing he needed inordinately--had been wrenched from him by a band of people who, in his eyes, were either fools or knaves. What would you have done in his position? What would have been your impulse? What your instinct? If I know anything of human nature, it would have been the same as his--precisely, accurately the same as his!
"He had known for years of this sect to which his master belonged; and for years he had held it in contempt. In his normal, youthful eyes, the idea of a creed that denied the high, simple theory of Christianity, and awaited the coming of a mythical Prophet was a subject for healthy scorn. And now suddenly it was forced upon his understanding that this anaemic sect--this mystical, antic.i.p.ated Prophet--were his rivals--the despoilers of his private intimate hopes.
"Such a knowledge has power to work a miracle; and in one single night it changed this boy into a man. Embittered, hopeless, stranded, inspiration came to him. He conceived the tremendous idea of entering upon a new fight--a second quest of the great inheritance. He conceived the idea; and standing, as it were, upon a different plane of life, he saw--"
But the Prophet got no further. With a gesture of violent excitement, Bale-Corphew rose; at the same instant the Precursor sprang to his feet and stood in a defensive att.i.tude before the Throne.
The whole scene was enacted in a second. Enid, grasping its full meaning, turned very white and dropped back into her seat, while the whole congregation strained forward in unanimous amazement and curiosity.
And then, for the first time, the hot, angry glance of Bale-Corphew met that of the Prophet. He glared at him for one moment in speechless rage, then he turned to the people.
"Mystics!" he cried, in a choked voice. "In accordance with a solemn duty, I--I proclaim this man to be--"
But before he could proceed the Precursor interrupted.
"People! Mystics!" he cried, raising his penetrating voice. "Is this right? Is this permissible?"
A murmur rose from the chapel.
Bale-Corphew"s face became purple.
"People! hear me!" he exclaimed. "This man is no Prophet. He is an impostor! A fraud! I have proof. I can give you proof!"
Of the extraordinary effect of these words Enid--crouching helplessly in her seat--saw nothing. All her senses were riveted upon one object--the tall, calm figure upon the steps of the Throne. By the power of intuition, rather than by physical observation, she saw the look of intense surprise, of incredulity merging to dismay, that crossed the Prophet"s face at the Arch-Mystic"s words. And at the sight the real meaning of his incomprehensible discourse pa.s.sed over her mind in a wave of incredulous admiration. Believing himself secure in his position, he had voluntarily chosen to denounce himself.
That was her first thought as the matter became clear to her; but a chilling second thought followed sharp upon it. What would be the Prophet"s reading of Bale-Corphew"s knowledge? Would not one solution--and one only--present itself to his mind? The idea that she had betrayed his confidence. With the horror of the suggestion an ungovernable impulse filled her--an impulse to rise--to go to him--sweep the doubt from his mind. But an instant later the merely egotistical thought was obliterated by the greater issues that filled the moment.
After Bale-Corphew had spoken an uproar--a clamor--had suddenly filled the chapel; and now the rapt concourse of people had become as a turbulent sea. The Precursor, pale with intense nervous excitement, stood vainly striving to make his voice heard; while Bale-Corphew, closely surrounded by his fellow-Mystics, gesticulated violently.
At last the Prophet raised his hand; and by habit and training, the people subsided into silence.
Instantly Bale-Corphew"s voice rang out.
"Listen!" he cried; "listen!"
But again the Precursor interrupted.
"People," he demanded, "will you refuse the Prophet the right of speech?
Will you refuse to hear the Prophet"s words?"
"This is sacrilege! Sacrilege!" Norov suddenly raised his voice. "Listen to your Councillor!"
"Listen to the Prophet! The Voice of the Prophet calls upon you. Will you deny it?" The Precursor"s voice shook with excitement.
"This is the truth! I tell you the truth!" Bale-Corphew appealed to the people with out-stretched arms.
But the tumult broke forth again.
"Mystics! Mystics!" Old Arian"s shrill, alarmed tones rose for an instant, only to be drowned in the clamor.
Then out of the confused babel of sound one cry became distinguishable.
"The Prophet! The Prophet! Let the Prophet speak!"
For a s.p.a.ce confusion reigned; then, answering to the demand, the Prophet again lifted his right hand.
As though it exercised some potent spell, his calm, imperious gesture subdued the turmoil. When silence had been restored he began to speak; and never, since he had addressed the first Gathering, had so deep a note of domination and decision been audible in his voice.
"Mystics!" he cried, "there is no time for preamble or delay. As the Arch-Mystic says, you must have truth! Perhaps there is no need to tell you that the history I have just related to you has an imminent bearing upon your lives and mine. You probably know, without my telling, that the boy of my story and I are one and the same person; that the fanatic sect, for which I was made a beggar, is your own sect--the sect of the Mystics. But so it is. On a wild, dark night ten years ago I learned that the money which should have been mine--the money which should have been the recompense for my mother"s hard life--had been given to you.
Given for the use of a Prophet in whose coming you believed!
"My feelings on that night were the criminal feelings that underlie all civilization. I had only one desire--to destroy--to be avenged. My uncle, Andrew Henderson, was an Arch-Mystic of your sect; and on the night he died, your sacred Scitsym was in his house!"
The congregation thrilled, and the blind Arch-Councillor turned and clutched Bale-Corphew"s arm.
"My first impulse was to destroy that book. Look at it, look at it!" He pointed to the lectern. "Ten years ago, I knelt before a fire with its pages in my hand, and black thoughts of revenge in my heart. But the devil of temptation lurks in strange places. In the very act of destruction, an inspiration came to me. A man was expected! A Prophet was expected! And in the pages of the Scitsym were contained the attributes, the secret signs, the manifold ways in which he was to make good his claim.
"I come of an obstinate stock--of a stock that in the past has overcome many obstacles. That night I copied out the whole of your Scitsym, and afterwards, as soon as I reasonably could, I left Scotland.
"I went at once to my mother; I told her that, according to the disposition of my uncle"s will, I was to inherit his fortune in ten years" time, and that in the interval I was to fit myself for wealth by profound study. It was the first time in all my life that I had lied to her!
"But to come to the end, your Prophet was to be a student of Eastern lore. With this knowledge in my mind, I started with my mother for the East. What has happened since then is immaterial. My second probation has been as hard as my first. But I accomplished two things. I fitted myself mentally and physically for the part I was going to play, and I made one stanch, wholly disinterested friend!" With a gesture of grave affection, he indicated the Precursor.