The Mystics | Page 4

crossing the main pathway of
the cliff, wound steeply upward and seemingly lost itself in a tangle of
gorse and bracken. Stirred by a boyish desire for exploration, he paused,
turned into this obscure track, and incontinently began its ascent.
For some hundreds of yards it led upward in a sharp incline; and with
its added steepness, the ardor of the explorer warmed. With impetuous
haste he climbed the last dozen yards; when, as the anticipated summit
was reached, he halted in abrupt, dismayed surprise; for with alarming
suddenness the land broke off short, disclosing a deep gap or fissure,
carpeted with heather and surrounded by natural protecting walls of
rock, in the centre of which was set a miniature chapel built of dark
stone.
At sight of the little edifice, he thrilled with adventurous surprise.
There was something mysterious, something almost fine in the sight of
the small temple, with the setting sun gleaming on its solid walls, its
low, massive door and round window of thick stained glass. He leaned
out over the shelving rock, staring down upon it with wide, astonished
eyes; then the natural instinct of the boy overtopped every other feeling.
With a quick-movement of excitement and expectation, he began to
descend into the hollow.
But though he walked round the little building a dozen times, shook the
heavy door and peered ineffectually into the opaque window, nothing
rewarded his curiosity, and after half an hour of diligent endeavor he
was compelled to return home no wiser than when he had first stood on
the summit of the path and looked down into the rocky cleft.

All that evening, however, the thought of his discovery remained with
him. At the eight-o'clock supper of porridge, vegetables, and fruit
which he shared with his uncle, he chafed under the silence of his
companion and at the air of calm indifference that the whitewashed
room with its raftered ceiling seemed to wear; and it was with a sigh of
satisfaction that he rose from table and bade his uncle a formal
good-night.
With the same suggestion of relief, he watched the old man light his
candle and ascend the bare stairs to his own room; then prompted by
the impulse he never neglected, he went into the study to write the daily
letter that made his mother's existence bearable.
He wrote for nearly an hour, omitting no detail of the evening's
discovery. Then, as he closed and sealed the letter, a clock on the
mantel-piece struck ten. The sound had an oddly hollow and chilly
effect in the bare, carpetless room; and unconsciously he raised his
head and glanced about him. His ideas, still stirred by his adventure,
were more prone than usual to the suggestion of outward things; and
for almost the first time since his arrival, he felt drawn to study his
intimate surroundings. With a new curiosity he let his eyes wander
from the severe book-shelves to the ugly iron safe that stood in the
most prominent position in the room; and from the safe his glance
turned to the revolving bookcase by his uncle's favorite chair, in which
lay the volumes that were in daily use. Following an impulse he had
never previously been conscious of, he crossed the room, and drawing
three books, at hap-hazard from the case, studied their titles.
The Indissoluble Essence, he read; The Soul in Relation to the Human
Mind; The Mystic Influence.
He stood for a space gazing at the sombre covers, but making no
attempt to dip into their pages; then a sudden look of comprehension
sprang into his eyes. The oddly built stone chapel took on a new and
more personal meaning. With a quick gesture he thrust the books back
into their place, extinguished the lamp, and softly left the room.
Gaining the hall, he did not turn towards the stairs; but tiptoeing to the
table, picked up his cap, crossed the hall noiselessly and opened the

outer door.
The warmth of the August day was still heavy on the air as he stepped
into the open; a great copper-colored moon hung low over the sea, and
a soft, filmy haze lay over both land and water. Without hesitation he
turned into the cliff path, and followed it until his quick eyes caught the
indistinct foot-track that he had discovered earlier in the evening. With
the same decision, the same suggestion of anticipation, he stepped
rapidly forward and once more began the sharp ascent.
The impetus of his curiosity carried him forward; he mounted the path
in hot haste; then, as he gained the summit, he halted again, but in new
surprise. In the hazy, mellow moonlight, the small building stood out
sharp and dark as on his previous visit, but from the round,
stained-glass window a