The Great Stone of Sardis | Page 7

the faces--it may be said, in the
souls--of the man and woman who sat there talking across a table. He was as full of hope
as ever he was, and she as full of faith.
They were an interesting couple to look upon. He, dark, a little hollow in the cheeks, a
slight line or two of anxiety in the forehead, a handsome, well-cut mouth, without beard,
and a frame somewhat spare but strong; a man of graceful but unaffected action, dressed
in a riding-coat, breeches, and leather leggings. She, her cheeks colored with earnest
purpose, her gray eyes rather larger than usual as she looked up from the paper where she
had been calculating, was dressed in the simple artistic fashion of the day. The falling
folds of the semi-clinging fabrics accommodated themselves well to a figure which even
at that moment of rest suggested latent energy and activity.
"If we have to wait for the Artesian ray," she said, "we must try to carry out something
else. People are watching us, talking of us, expecting something of us; we must give them
something. Now the question is, what shall that be?"
"The way I look at it is this," said her companion. "For a long time you have been
watching and waiting and expecting something, and it is time that I should give you
something; now the question is--"
"Not at all," said she, interrupting. "You arrogate too much to yourself. I don't expect you
to give anything to me. We are working together, and it is both of us who must give this
poor old world something to satisfy it for a while, until we can disclose to it that grand
discovery, grander than anything that it has ever even imagined. I want to go on talking
about it, but I shall not do it; we must keep our minds tied down to some present purpose.
Now, Mr. Clewe, what is there that we can take up and carry on immediately? Can it be

the great shell?"
Clewe shook his head.
"No," said he; "that is progressing admirably, but many things are necessary before we
can experiment with it."
"Since you were away," said she, "I have often been down to the works to look at it, but
everything about it seems to go so slowly. However, I suppose it will go fast enough
when it is finished."
"Yes," said he. "I hope it will go fast enough to overturn the artillery of the world; but, as
you say, don't let us talk about the things for which we must wait. I will carefully
consider everything that is in operation, and to-morrow I will suggest something with
which we can go on."
"After all," said she, as they stood together before parting, "I cannot take my mind from
the Artesian ray."
"Nor can I," he answered; "but for the present we must put our hands to work at
something else."
The Artesian ray, of which these two spoke, was an invention upon which Roland Clewe
had been experimenting for a long time, and which was and had been the object of his
labors and studies while in Europe. In the first decade of the century it had been generally
supposed that the X ray, or cathode ray, had been developed and applied to the utmost
extent of its capability. It was used in surgery and in mechanical arts, and in many
varieties of scientific operations, but no considerable advance in its line of application
had been recognized for a quarter of a century. But Roland Clewe had come to believe in
the existence of a photic force, somewhat similar to the cathode ray, but of infinitely
greater significance and importance to the searcher after physical truth. Simply described,
his discovery was a powerful ray produced by a new combination of electric lights, which
would penetrate down into the earth, passing through all substances which it met in its
way, and illuminating and disclosing everything through which it passed.
All matter likely to be found beneath the surface of the earth in that part of the country
had been experimented upon by Clewe, and nothing had resisted the penetrating and
illuminating influence of his ray--well called Artesian ray, for it was intended to bore into
the bowels of the earth. After making many minor trials of the force and powers of his
light, Roland Clewe had undertaken the construction of a massive apparatus, by which he
believed a ray could be generated which, little by little, perhaps foot by foot, would
penetrate into the earth and light up everything between the farthest point it had attained
and the lenses of his machine. That is to say, he hoped to produce a long hole of light
about three feet in