The Mystics | Page 4

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 flood of light--crimson, rose-color, and gold--poured out into the night.
CHAPTER II
In the first moment of astonishment, John stood motionless, his gaze riveted on the glow of color that poured through the window upon the rocks and heather of the cleft. Then, as he continued to stand with widely opened eyes, another surprise was sprung upon him. The door of the chapel opened and the figure of