BOOK V: A RITUAL AT MIDNIGHT

by Bram Stoker

　　RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.June 20, 1907.The time has gone as quickly as work can effect since I saw my Lady. AsI told the mountaineers, Rooke, whom I had sent on the service, had madea contract for fifty thousand Ingis-Malbron rifles, and as many tons ofammunition as the French experts calculated to be a full supply for ayear of warfare. I heard from him by our secret telegraph code that theorder had been completed, and that the goods were already on the way.The morning after the meeting at the Flagstaff I had word that at nightthe vessel--one chartered by Rooke for the purpose--would arrive atVissarion during the night. We were all expectation. I had always nowin the Castle a signalling party, the signals being renewed as fast asthe men were sufficiently expert to proceed with their practice alone orin groups. We hoped that every fighting-man in the country would in timebecome an expert signaller. Beyond these, again, we have always a fewpriests. The Church of the country is a militant Church; its priests aresoldiers, its Bishops commanders. But they all serve wherever the battlemost needs them. Naturally they, as men of brains, are quicker atlearning than the average mountaineers; with the result that they learntthe code and the signalling almost by instinct. We have now at least onesuch expert in each community of them, and shortly the priests alone willbe able to signal, if need be, for the nation; thus releasing for activeservice the merely fighting-man. The men at present with me I took intoconfidence as to the vessel's arrival, and we were all ready for workwhen the man on the lookout at the Flagstaff sent word that a vesselwithout lights was creeping in towards shore. We all assembled on therocky edge of the creek, and saw her steal up the creek and gain theshelter of the harbour. When this had been effected, we ran out the boomwhich protects the opening, and after that the great armouredsliding-gates which Uncle Roger had himself had made so as to protect theharbour in case of need.We then came within and assisted in warping the steamer to the side ofthe dock.Rooke looked fit, and was full of fire and vigour. His responsibilityand the mere thought of warlike action seemed to have renewed his youth.When we had arranged for the unloading of the cases of arms andammunition, I took Rooke into the room which we call my "office," wherehe gave me an account of his doings. He had not only secured the riflesand the ammunition for them, but he had purchased from one of the smallAmerican Republics an armoured yacht which had been especially built forwar service. He grew quite enthusiastic, even excited, as he told me ofher:"She is the last word in naval construction--a torpedo yacht. A smallcruiser, with turbines up to date, oil-fuelled, and fully armed with thelatest and most perfect weapons and explosives of all kinds. The fastestboat afloat to-day. Built by Thorneycroft, engined by Parsons, armouredby Armstrong, armed by Crupp. If she ever comes into action, it will bebad for her opponent, for she need not fear to tackle anything less thana Dreadnought."He also told me that from the same Government, whose nation had justestablished an unlooked-for peace, he had also purchased a whole park ofartillery of the very latest patterns, and that for range and accuracythe guns were held to be supreme. These would follow before long, andwith them their proper ammunition, with a shipload of the same to followshortly after.When he had told me all the rest of his news, and handed me the accounts,we went out to the dock to see the debarkation of the war material.Knowing that it was arriving, I had sent word in the afternoon to themountaineers to tell them to come and remove it. They had answered thecall, and it really seemed to me that the whole of the land must thatnight have been in motion.They came as individuals, grouping themselves as they came within thedefences of the Castle; some had gathered at fixed points on the way.They went secretly and in silence, stealing through the forests likeghosts, each party when it grouped taking the place of that which hadgone on one of the routes radiating round Vissarion. Their coming andgoing was more than ghostly. It was, indeed, the outward manifestationof an inward spirit--a whole nation dominated by one common purpose.The men in the steamer were nearly all engineers, mostly British, wellconducted, and to be depended upon. Rooke had picked them separately,and in the doing had used well his great experience of both men andadventurous life. These men were to form part of the armoured yacht'screw when she should come into the Mediterranean waters. They and thepriests and fighting-men in the Castle worked well together, and with azeal that was beyond praise. The heavy cases seemed almost of their ownaccord to leave the holds, so fast came the procession of them along thegangways from deck to dock-wall. It was a part of my design that thearms should be placed in centres ready for local distribution. In such acountry as this, without railways or even roads, the distribution of warmaterial in any quantity is a great labour, for it has to be doneindividually, or at least from centres.But of this work the great number of mountaineers who were arriving madelittle account. As fast as the ship's company, with the assistance ofthe priests and fighting-men, placed the cases on the quay, the engineersopened them and laid the contents ready for portage. The mountaineersseemed to come in a continuous stream; each in turn shouldered his burdenand passed out, the captain of his section giving him as he passed hisinstruction where to go and in what route. The method had been alreadyprepared in my office ready for such a distribution when the arms shouldarrive, and descriptions and quantities had been noted by the captains.The whole affair was treated by all as a matter of the utmost secrecy.Hardly a word was spoken beyond the necessary directions, and these weregiven in whispers. All night long the stream of men went and came, andtowards dawn the bulk of the imported material was lessened by half. Onthe following night the remainder was removed, after my own men hadstored in the Castle the rifles and ammunition reserved for its defenceif necessary. It was advisable to keep a reserve supply in case itshould ever be required. The following night Rooke went away secretly inthe chartered vessel. He had to bring back with him the purchased cannonand heavy ammunition, which had been in the meantime stored on one of theGreek islands. The second morning, having had secret word that thesteamer was on the way, I had given the signal for the assembling of themountaineers.A little after dark the vessel, showing no light, stole into the creek.The barrier gates were once again closed, and when a sufficient number ofmen had arrived to handle the guns, we began to unload. The actualdeportation was easy enough, for the dock had all necessary appliancesquite up to date, including a pair of shears for gun-lifting which couldbe raised into position in a very short time.The guns were well furnished with tackle of all sorts, and before manyhours had passed a little procession of them disappeared into the woodsin ghostly silence. A number of men surrounded each, and they moved aswell as if properly supplied with horses.In the meantime, and for a week after the arrival of the guns, thedrilling went on without pause. The gun-drill was wonderful. In thearduous work necessary for it the great strength and stamina of themountaineers showed out wonderfully. They did not seem to know fatigueany more than they knew fear.For a week this went on, till a perfect discipline and management wasobtained. They did not practise the shooting, for this would have madesecrecy impossible. It was reported all along the Turkish frontier thatthe Sultan's troops were being massed, and though this was not on a warfooting, the movement was more or less dangerous. The reports of our ownspies, although vague as to the purpose and extent of the movement, weredefinite as to something being on foot. And Turkey does not do somethingwithout a purpose that bodes ill to someone. Certainly the sound ofcannon, which is a far-reaching sound, would have given them warning ofour preparations, and would so have sadly minimized their effectiveness.When the cannon had all been disposed of--except, of course, thosedestined for defence of the Castle or to be stored there--Rooke went awaywith the ship and crew. The ship he was to return to the owners; the menwould be shipped on the war-yacht, of whose crew they would form a part.The rest of them had been carefully selected by Rooke himself, and werekept in secrecy at Cattaro, ready for service the moment required. Theywere all good men, and quite capable of whatever work they might be setto. So Rooke told me, and he ought to know. The experience of his youngdays as a private made him an expert in such a job.RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.June 24, 1907.Last night I got from my Lady a similar message to the last, anddelivered in a similar way. This time, however, our meeting was to be onthe leads of the Keep.I dressed myself very carefully before going on this adventure, lest byany chance of household concern, any of the servants should see me; forif this should happen, Aunt Janet would be sure to hear of it, whichwould give rise to endless surmises and questionings--a thing I was farfrom desiring.I confess that in thinking the matter over during the time I was makingmy hurried preparations I was at a loss to understand how any human body,even though it be of the dead, could go or be conveyed to such a placewithout some sort of assistance, or, at least, collusion, on the part ofsome of the inmates. At the visit to the Flagstaff circumstances weredifferent. This spot was actually outside the Castle, and in order toreach it I myself had to leave the Castle privately, and from the gardenascend to the ramparts. But here was no such possibility. The Keep wasan imperium in imperio. It stood within the Castle, though separatedfrom it, and it had its own defences against intrusion. The roof of itwas, so far as I knew, as little approachable as the magazine.The difficulty did not, however, trouble me beyond a mere passingthought. In the joy of the coming meeting and the longing rapture at themere thought of it, all difficulties disappeared. Love makes its ownfaith, and I never doubted that my Lady would be waiting for me at theplace designated. When I had passed through the little arched passages,and up the doubly-grated stairways contrived in the massiveness of thewalls, I let myself out on the leads. It was well that as yet the timeswere sufficiently peaceful not to necessitate guards or sentries at allsuch points.There, in a dim corner where the moonlight and the passing clouds threwdeep shadows, I saw her, clothed as ever in her shroud. Why, I know not.I felt somehow that the situation was even more serious than ever. But Iwas steeled to whatever might come. My mind had been already made up.To carry out my resolve to win the woman I loved I was ready to facedeath. But now, after we had for a few brief moments held each other inour arms, I was willing to accept death--or more than death. Now, morethan before, was she sweet and dear to me. Whatever qualms there mighthave been at the beginning of our love-making, or during the progress ofit, did not now exist. We had exchanged vows and confidences, andacknowledged our loves. What, then, could there be of distrust, or evendoubt, that the present might not set at naught? But even had there beensuch doubts or qualms, they must have disappeared in the ardour of ourmutual embrace. I was by now mad for her, and was content to be so mad.When she had breath to speak after the strictness of our embrace, shesaid:"I have come to warn you to be more than ever careful." It was, Iconfess, a pang to me, who thought only of love, to hear that anythingelse should have been the initiative power of her coming, even though ithad been her concern for my own safety. I could not but notice thebitter note of chagrin in my voice as I answered:"It was for love's sake that I came." She, too, evidently felt theundercurrent of pain, for she said quickly:"Ah, dearest, I, too, came for love's sake. It is because I love youthat I am so anxious about you. What would the world--ay, or heaven--beto me without you?"There was such earnest truth in her tone that the sense and realizationof my own harshness smote me. In the presence of such love as this evena lover's selfishness must become abashed. I could not express myself inwords, so simply raised her slim hand in mine and kissed it. As it laywarm in my own I could not but notice, as well as its fineness, itsstrength and the firmness of its clasp. Its warmth and fervour struckinto my heart--and my brain. Thereupon I poured out to her once more mylove for her, she listening all afire. When passion had had its say, thecalmer emotions had opportunity of expression. When I was satisfiedafresh of her affection, I began to value her care for my safety, and soI went back to the subject. Her very insistence, based on personalaffection, gave me more solid ground for fear. In the moment of lovetransports I had forgotten, or did not think, of what wonderful power orknowledge she must have to be able to move in such strange ways as shedid. Why, at this very moment she was within my own gates. Locks andbars, even the very seal of death itself, seemed unable to make for her aprison-house. With such freedom of action and movement, going when shewould into secret places, what might she not know that was known toothers? How could anyone keep secret from such an one even an illintent? Such thoughts, such surmises, had often flashed through my mindin moments of excitement rather than of reflection, but never long enoughto become fixed into belief. But yet the consequences, the convictions,of them were with me, though unconsciously, though the thoughtsthemselves were perhaps forgotten or withered before development."And you?" I asked her earnestly. "What about danger to you?" Shesmiled, her little pearl-white teeth gleaming in the moonlight, as shespoke:"There is no danger for me. I am safe. I am the safest person, perhapsthe only safe person, in all this land." The full significance of herwords did not seem to come to me all at once. Some base forunderstanding such an assertion seemed to be wanting. It was not that Idid not trust or believe her, but that I thought she might be mistaken.I wanted to reassure myself, so in my distress I asked unthinkingly:"How the safest? What is your protection?" For several moments thatspun themselves out endlessly she looked me straight in the face, thestars in her eyes seeming to glow like fire; then, lowering her head, shetook a fold of her shroud and held it up to me."This!"The meaning was complete and understandable now. I could not speak atonce for the wave of emotion which choked me. I dropped on my knees, andtaking her in my arms, held her close to me. She saw that I was moved,and tenderly stroked my hair, and with delicate touch pressed down myhead on her bosom, as a mother might have done to comfort a frightenedchild.Presently we got back to the realities of life again. I murmured:"Your safety, your life, your happiness are all-in-all to me. When willyou let them be my care?" She trembled in my arms, nestling even closerto me. Her own arms seemed to quiver with delight as she said:"Would you indeed like me to be always with you? To me it would be ahappiness unspeakable; and to you, what would it be?"I thought that she wished to hear me speak my love to her, and that,woman-like, she had led me to the utterance, and so I spoke again of thepassion that now raged in me, she listening eagerly as we strained eachother tight in our arms. At last there came a pause, a long, long pause,and our hearts beat consciously in unison as we stood together.Presently she said in a sweet, low, intense whisper, as soft as thesighing of summer wind:"It shall be as you wish; but oh, my dear, you will have to first gothrough an ordeal which may try you terribly! Do not ask me anything!You must not ask, because I may not answer, and it would be pain to me todeny you anything. Marriage with such an one as I am has its own ritual,which may not be foregone. It may . . . " I broke passionately into herspeaking:"There is no ritual that I fear, so long as it be that it is for yourgood, and your lasting happiness. And if the end of it be that I maycall you mine, there is no horror in life or death that I shall notgladly face. Dear, I ask you nothing. I am content to leave myself inyour hands. You shall advise me when the time comes, and I shall besatisfied, content to obey. Content! It is but a poor word to expresswhat I long for! I shall shirk nothing which may come to me from this orany other world, so long as it is to make you mine!" Once again hermurmured happiness was music to my ears:"Oh, how you love me! how you love me, dear, dear!" She took me in herarms, and for a few seconds we hung together. Suddenly she tore herselfapart from me, and stood drawn up to the full height, with a dignity Icannot describe or express. Her voice had a new dominance, as with firmutterance and in staccato manner she said:"Rupert Sent Leger, before we go a step further I must say something toyou, ask you something, and I charge you, on your most sacred honour andbelief, to answer me truly. Do you believe me to be one of those unhappybeings who may not die, but have to live in shameful existence betweenearth and the nether world, and whose hellish mission is to destroy, bodyand soul, those who love them till they fall to their level? You are agentleman, and a brave one. I have found you fearless. Answer me insternest truth, no matter what the issue may be!"She stood there in the glamorous moonlight with a commanding dignitywhich seemed more than human. In that mystic light her white shroudseemed diaphanous, and she appeared like a spirit of power. What was Ito say? How could I admit to such a being that I had actually had atmoments, if not a belief, a passing doubt? It was a conviction with methat if I spoke wrongly I should lose her for ever. I was in a desperatestrait. In such a case there is but one solid ground which one may reston--the Truth.I really felt I was between the devil and the deep sea. There was noavoiding the issue, and so, out of this all-embracing, all-compellingconviction of truth, I spoke.For a fleeting moment I felt that my tone was truculent, and almosthesitated; but as I saw no anger or indignation on my Lady's face, butrather an eager approval, I was reassured. A woman, after all, is gladto see a man strong, for all belief in him must be based on that."I shall speak the truth. Remember that I have no wish to hurt yourfeelings, but as you conjure me by my honour, you must forgive me if Ipain. It is true that I had at first--ay, and later, when I came tothink matters over after you had gone, when reason came to the aid ofimpression--a passing belief that you are a Vampire. How can I fail tohave, even now, though I love you with all my soul, though I have heldyou in my arms and kissed you on the mouth, a doubt, when all theevidences seem to point to one thing? Remember that I have only seen youat night, except that bitter moment when, in the broad noonday of theupper world, I saw you, clad as ever in a shroud, lying seemingly dead ina tomb in the crypt of St. Sava's Church . . . But let that pass. Suchbelief as I have is all in you. Be you woman or Vampire, it is all thesame to me. It is you whom I love! Should it be that you are--you arenot woman, which I cannot believe, then it will be my glory to break yourfetters, to open your prison, and set you free. To that I consecrate mylife." For a few seconds I stood silent, vibrating with the passionwhich had been awakened in me. She had by now lost the measure of herhaughty isolation, and had softened into womanhood again. It was reallylike a realization of the old theme of Pygmalion's statue. It was withrather a pleading than a commanding voice that she said:"And shall you always be true to me?""Always--so help me, God!" I answered, and I felt that there could be nolack of conviction in my voice.Indeed, there was no cause for such lack. She also stood for a littlewhile stone-still, and I was beginning to expand to the rapture which wasin store for me when she should take me again in her arms.But there was no such moment of softness. All at once she started as ifshe had suddenly wakened from a dream, and on the spur of the momentsaid:"Now go, go!" I felt the conviction of necessity to obey, and turned atonce. As I moved towards the door by which I had entered, I asked:"When shall I see you again?""Soon!" came her answer. "I shall let you know soon--when and where.Oh, go, go!" She almost pushed me from her.When I had passed through the low doorway and locked and barred it behindme, I felt a pang that I should have had to shut her out like that; but Ifeared lest there should arise some embarrassing suspicion if the doorshould be found open. Later came the comforting thought that, as she hadgot to the roof though the door had been shut, she would be able to getaway by the same means. She had evidently knowledge of some secret wayinto the Castle. The alternative was that she must have somesupernatural quality or faculty which gave her strange powers. I did notwish to pursue that train of thought, and so, after an effort, shut itout from my mind.When I got back to my room I locked the door behind me, and went to sleepin the dark. I did not want light just then--could not bear it.This morning I woke, a little later than usual, with a kind ofapprehension which I could not at once understand. Presently, however,when my faculties became fully awake and in working order, I realizedthat I feared, half expected, that Aunt Janet would come to me in a worsestate of alarm than ever apropos of some new Second-Sight experience ofmore than usual ferocity.But, strange to say, I had no such visit. Later on in the morning, when,after breakfast, we walked together through the garden, I asked her howshe had slept, and if she had dreamt. She answered me that she had sleptwithout waking, and if she had had any dreams, they must have beenpleasant ones, for she did not remember them. "And you know, Rupert,"she added, "that if there be anything bad or fearsome or warning indreams, I always remember them."Later still, when I was by myself on the cliff beyond the creek, I couldnot help commenting on the absence of her power of Second Sight on theoccasion. Surely, if ever there was a time when she might have had causeof apprehension, it might well have been when I asked the Lady whom shedid not know to marry me--the Lady of whose identity I knew nothing, evenwhose name I did not know--whom I loved with all my heart and soul--myLady of the Shroud.I have lost faith in Second Sight.RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.July 1, 1907.Another week gone. I have waited patiently, and I am at last rewarded byanother letter. I was preparing for bed a little while ago, when I heardthe same mysterious sound at the door as on the last two occasions. Ihurried to the glass door, and there found another close-folded letter.But I could see no sign of my Lady, or of any other living being. Theletter, which was without direction, ran as follows:"If you are still of the same mind, and feel no misgivings, meet me atthe Church of St. Sava beyond the Creek to-morrow night at a quarterbefore midnight. If you come, come in secret, and, of course, alone. Donot come at all unless you are prepared for a terrible ordeal. But ifyou love me, and have neither doubts nor fears, come. Come!"Needless to say, I did not sleep last night. I tried to, but withoutsuccess. It was no morbid happiness that kept me awake, no doubting, nofear. I was simply overwhelmed with the idea of the coming rapture whenI should call my Lady my very, very own. In this sea of happyexpectation all lesser things were submerged. Even sleep, which is animperative force with me, failed in its usual effectiveness, and I laystill, calm, content.With the coming of the morning, however, restlessness began. I did notknow what to do, how to restrain myself, where to look for an anodyne.Happily the latter came in the shape of Rooke, who turned up shortlyafter breakfast. He had a satisfactory tale to tell me of the armouredyacht, which had lain off Cattaro on the previous night, and to which hehad brought his contingent of crew which had waited for her coming. Hedid not like to take the risk of going into any port with such a vessel,lest he might be detained or otherwise hampered by forms, and had goneout upon the open sea before daylight. There was on board the yacht atiny torpedo-boat, for which provision was made both for hoisting on deckand housing there. This last would run into the creek at ten o'clockthat evening, at which time it would be dark. The yacht would then runto near Otranto, to which she would send a boat to get any message Imight send. This was to be in a code, which we arranged, and wouldconvey instructions as to what night and approximate hour the yacht wouldcome to the creek.The day was well on before we had made certain arrangements for thefuture; and not till then did I feel again the pressure of my personalrestlessness. Rooke, like a wise commander, took rest whilst he could.Well he knew that for a couple of days and nights at least there would belittle, if any, sleep for him.For myself, the habit of self-control stood to me, and I managed to getthrough the day somehow without exciting the attention of anyone else.The arrival of the torpedo-boat and the departure of Rooke made for me awelcome break in my uneasiness. An hour ago I said good-night to AuntJanet, and shut myself up alone here. My watch is on the table beforeme, so that I may make sure of starting to the moment. I have allowedmyself half an hour to reach St. Sava. My skiff is waiting, moored atthe foot of the cliff on the hither side, where the zigzag comes close tothe water. It is now ten minutes past eleven.I shall add the odd five minutes to the time for my journey so as to makesafe. I go unarmed and without a light.I shall show no distrust of anyone or anything this night.RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.July 2, 1907.When I was outside the church, I looked at my watch in the brightmoonlight, and found I had one minute to wait. So I stood in the shadowof the doorway and looked out at the scene before me. Not a sign of lifewas visible around me, either on land or sea. On the broad plateau onwhich the church stands there was no movement of any kind. The wind,which had been pleasant in the noontide, had fallen completely, and not aleaf was stirring. I could see across the creek and note the hard linewhere the battlements of the Castle cut the sky, and where the keeptowered above the line of black rock, which in the shadow of the landmade an ebon frame for the picture. When I had seen the same view onformer occasions, the line where the rock rose from the sea was a fringeof white foam. But then, in the daylight, the sea was sapphire blue; nowit was an expanse of dark blue--so dark as to seem almost black. It hadnot even the relief of waves or ripples--simply a dark, cold, lifelessexpanse, with no gleam of light anywhere, of lighthouse or ship; neitherwas there any special sound to be heard that one coulddistinguish--nothing but the distant hum of the myriad voices of the darkmingling in one ceaseless inarticulate sound. It was well I had not timeto dwell on it, or I might have reached some spiritually-disturbingmelancholy.Let me say here that ever since I had received my Lady's messageconcerning this visit to St. Sava's I had been all on fire--not, perhaps,at every moment consciously or actually so, but always, as it were,prepared to break out into flame. Did I want a simile, I might comparemyself to a well-banked furnace, whose present function it is to containheat rather than to create it; whose crust can at any moment be broken bya force external to itself, and burst into raging, all-compelling heat.No thought of fear really entered my mind. Every other emotion therewas, coming and going as occasion excited or lulled, but not fear. WellI knew in the depths of my heart the purpose which that secret quest wasto serve. I knew not only from my Lady's words, but from the teachingsof my own senses and experiences, that some dreadful ordeal must takeplace before happiness of any kind could be won. And that ordeal, thoughmethod or detail was unknown to me, I was prepared to undertake. Thiswas one of those occasions when a man must undertake, blindfold, waysthat may lead to torture or death, or unknown terrors beyond. But, then,a man--if, indeed, he have the heart of a man--can always undertake; hecan at least make the first step, though it may turn out that through theweakness of mortality he may be unable to fulfil his own intent, orjustify his belief in his own powers. Such, I take it, was theintellectual attitude of the brave souls who of old faced the tortures ofthe Inquisition.But though there was no immediate fear, there was a certain doubt. Fordoubt is one of those mental conditions whose calling we cannot control.The end of the doubting may not be a reality to us, or be accepted as apossibility. These things cannot forego the existence of the doubt."For even if a man," says Victor Cousin, "doubt everything else, at leasthe cannot doubt that he doubts." The doubt had at times been on me thatmy Lady of the Shroud was a Vampire. Much that had happened seemed topoint that way, and here, on the very threshold of the Unknown, when,through the door which I was pushing open, my eyes met only an expanse ofabsolute blackness, all doubts which had ever been seemed to surround mein a legion. I have heard that, when a man is drowning, there comes atime when his whole life passes in review during the space of time whichcannot be computed as even a part of a second. So it was to me in themoment of my body passing into the church. In that moment came to mymind all that had been, which bore on the knowledge of my Lady; and thegeneral tendency was to prove or convince that she was indeed a Vampire.Much that had happened, or become known to me, seemed to justify theresolving of doubt into belief. Even my own reading of the books in AuntJanet's little library, and the dear lady's comments on them, mingledwith her own uncanny beliefs, left little opening for doubt. My havingto help my Lady over the threshold of my house on her first entry was inaccord with Vampire tradition; so, too, her flying at cock-crow from thewarmth in which she revelled on that strange first night of our meeting;so, too, her swift departure at midnight on the second. Into the samecategory came the facts of her constant wearing of her Shroud, even herpledging herself, and me also, on the fragment torn from it, which shehad given to me as a souvenir; her lying still in the glass-covered tomb;her coming alone to the most secret places in a fortified Castle whereevery aperture was secured by unopened locks and bolts; her verymovements, though all of grace, as she flitted noiselessly through thegloom of night.All these things, and a thousand others of lesser import, seemed, for themoment, to have consolidated an initial belief. But then came thesupreme recollections of how she had lain in my arms; of her kisses on mylips; of the beating of her heart against my own; of her sweet words ofbelief and faith breathed in my ear in intoxicating whispers; of . . . Ipaused. No! I could not accept belief as to her being other than aliving woman of soul and sense, of flesh and blood, of all the sweet andpassionate instincts of true and perfect womanhood.And so, in spite of all--in spite of all beliefs, fixed or transitory,with a mind whirling amid contesting forces and compelling beliefs--Istepped into the church overwhelmed with that most receptive ofatmospheres--doubt.In one thing only was I fixed: here at least was no doubt or misgivingwhatever. I intended to go through what I had undertaken. Moreover, Ifelt that I was strong enough to carry out my intention, whatever mightbe of the Unknown--however horrible, however terrible.When I had entered the church and closed the heavy door behind me, thesense of darkness and loneliness in all their horror enfolded me round.The great church seemed a living mystery, and served as an almostterrible background to thoughts and remembrances of unutterable gloom.My adventurous life has had its own schooling to endurance and upholdingone's courage in trying times; but it has its contra in fulness ofmemory.I felt my way forward with both hands and feet. Every second seemed asif it had brought me at last to a darkness which was actually tangible.All at once, and with no heed of sequence or order, I was conscious ofall around me, the knowledge or perception of which--or even speculationon the subject--had never entered my mind. They furnished the darknesswith which I was encompassed with all the crowded phases of a dream. Iknew that all around me were memorials of the dead--that in the Cryptdeep-wrought in the rock below my feet lay the dead themselves. Some ofthem, perhaps--one of them I knew--had even passed the grim portals oftime Unknown, and had, by some mysterious power or agency, come backagain to material earth. There was no resting-place for thought when Iknew that the very air which I breathed might be full of denizens of thespirit-world. In that impenetrable blackness was a world of imaginingwhose possibilities of horror were endless.I almost fancied that I could see with mortal eyes down through thatrocky floor to where, in the lonely Crypt, lay, in her tomb of massivestone and under that bewildering coverlet of glass, the woman whom Ilove. I could see her beautiful face, her long black lashes, her sweetmouth--which I had kissed--relaxed in the sleep of death. I could notethe voluminous shroud--a piece of which as a precious souvenir lay eventhen so close to my heart--the snowy woollen coverlet wrought over ingold with sprigs of pine, the soft dent in the cushion on which her headmust for so long have lain. I could see myself--within my eyes thememory of that first visit--coming once again with glad step to renewthat dear sight--dear, though it scorched my eyes and harrowed myheart--and finding the greater sorrow, the greater desolation of theempty tomb!There! I felt that I must think no more of that lest the thought shouldunnerve me when I should most want all my courage. That way madness lay!The darkness had already sufficient terrors of its own without bringingto it such grim remembrances and imaginings . . . And I had yet to gothrough some ordeal which, even to her who had passed and repassed theportals of death, was full of fear.It was a merciful relief to me when, in groping my way forwards throughthe darkness, I struck against some portion of the furnishing of thechurch. Fortunately I was all strung up to tension, else I should neverhave been able to control instinctively, as I did, the shriek which wasrising to my lips.I would have given anything to have been able to light even a match. Asingle second of light would, I felt, have made me my own man again. ButI knew that this would be against the implied condition of my being thereat all, and might have had disastrous consequences to her whom I had cometo save. It might even frustrate my scheme, and altogether destroy myopportunity. At that moment it was borne upon me more strongly than everthat this was not a mere fight for myself or my own selfish purposes--notmerely an adventure or a struggle for only life and death against unknowndifficulties and dangers. It was a fight on behalf of her I loved, notmerely for her life, but perhaps even for her soul.And yet this very thinking--understanding--created a new form of terror.For in that grim, shrouding darkness came memories of other moments ofterrible stress.Of wild, mystic rites held in the deep gloom of African forests, when,amid scenes of revolting horror, Obi and the devils of his kind seemed toreveal themselves to reckless worshippers, surfeited with horror, whoselives counted for naught; when even human sacrifice was an episode, andthe reek of old deviltries and recent carnage tainted the air, till evenI, who was, at the risk of my life, a privileged spectator who had comethrough dangers without end to behold the scene, rose and fled in horror.Of scenes of mystery enacted in rock-cut temples beyond the Himalayas,whose fanatic priests, cold as death and as remorseless, in the reactionof their phrenzy of passion, foamed at the mouth and then sank intomarble quiet, as with inner eyes they beheld the visions of the hellishpowers which they had invoked.Of wild, fantastic dances of the Devil-worshippers of Madagascar, whereeven the very semblance of humanity disappeared in the fantastic excessesof their orgies.Of strange doings of gloom and mystery in the rock-perched monasteries ofThibet.Of awful sacrifices, all to mystic ends, in the innermost recesses ofCathay.Of weird movements with masses of poisonous snakes by the medicine-men ofthe Zuni and Mochi Indians in the far south-west of the Rockies, beyondthe great plains.Of secret gatherings in vast temples of old Mexico, and by dim altars offorgotten cities in the heart of great forests in South America.Of rites of inconceivable horror in the fastnesses of Patagonia.Of . . . Here I once more pulled myself up. Such thoughts were no kindof proper preparation for what I might have to endure. My work thatnight was to be based on love, on hope, on self-sacrifice for the womanwho in all the world was the closest to my heart, whose future I was toshare, whether that sharing might lead me to Hell or Heaven. The handwhich undertook such a task must have no trembling.Still, those horrible memories had, I am bound to say, a useful part inmy preparation for the ordeal. They were of fact which I had seen, ofwhich I had myself been in part a sharer, and which I had survived. Withsuch experiences behind me, could there be aught before me more dreadful?. . .Moreover, if the coming ordeal was of supernatural or superhuman order,could it transcend in living horror the vilest and most desperate acts ofthe basest men? . . .With renewed courage I felt my way before me, till my sense of touch toldme that I was at the screen behind which lay the stair to the Crypt.There I waited, silent, still.My own part was done, so far as I knew how to do it. Beyond this, whatwas to come was, so far as I knew, beyond my own control. I had donewhat I could; the rest must come from others. I had exactly obeyed myinstructions, fulfilled my warranty to the utmost in my knowledge andpower. There was, therefore, left for me in the present nothing but towait.It is a peculiarity of absolute darkness that it creates its ownreaction. The eye, wearied of the blackness, begins to imagine forms oflight. How far this is effected by imagination pure and simple I knownot. It may be that nerves have their own senses that bring thought tothe depository common to all the human functions, but, whatever may bethe mechanism or the objective, the darkness seems to people itself withluminous entities.So was it with me as I stood lonely in the dark, silent church. Here andthere seemed to flash tiny points of light.In the same way the silence began to be broken now and again by strangemuffled sounds--the suggestion of sounds rather than actual vibrations.These were all at first of the minor importance of movement--rustlings,creakings, faint stirrings, fainter breathings. Presently, when I hadsomewhat recovered from the sort of hypnotic trance to which the darknessand stillness had during the time of waiting reduced me, I looked aroundin wonder.The phantoms of light and sound seemed to have become real. There weremost certainly actual little points of light in places--not enough to seedetails by, but quite sufficient to relieve the utter gloom. Ithought--though it may have been a mingling of recollection andimagination--that I could distinguish the outlines of the church;certainly the great altar-screen was dimly visible. Instinctively Ilooked up--and thrilled. There, hung high above me, was, surely enough,a great Greek Cross, outlined by tiny points of light.I lost myself in wonder, and stood still, in a purely receptive mood,unantagonistic to aught, willing for whatever might come, ready for allthings, in rather a negative than a positive mood--a mood which has anaspect of spiritual meekness. This is the true spirit of the neophyte,and, though I did not think of it at the time, the proper attitude forwhat is called by the Church in whose temple I stood a "neo-nymph."As the light grew a little in power, though never increasing enough fordistinctness, I saw dimly before me a table on which rested a great openbook, whereon were laid two rings--one of sliver, the other of gold--andtwo crowns wrought of flowers, bound at the joining of their stems withtissue--one of gold, the other of silver. I do not know much of theritual of the old Greek Church, which is the religion of the BlueMountains, but the things which I saw before me could be none other thanenlightening symbols. Instinctively I knew that I had been broughthither, though in this grim way, to be married. The very idea of itthrilled me to the heart's core. I thought the best thing I could dowould be to stay quite still, and not show surprise at anything thatmight happen; but be sure I was all eyes and ears.I peered anxiously around me in every direction, but I could see no signof her whom I had come to meet.Incidentally, however, I noticed that in the lighting, such as it was,there was no flame, no "living" light. Whatever light there was camemuffled, as though through some green translucent stone. The wholeeffect was terribly weird and disconcerting.Presently I started, as, seemingly out of the darkness beside me, a man'shand stretched out and took mine. Turning, I found close to me a tallman with shining black eyes and long black hair and beard. He was cladin some kind of gorgeous robe of cloth of gold, rich with variety ofadornment. His head was covered with a high, over-hanging hat drapedclosely with a black scarf, the ends of which formed a long, hanging veilon either side. These veils, falling over the magnificent robes of clothof gold, had an extraordinarily solemn effect.I yielded myself to the guiding hand, and shortly found myself, so far asI could see, at one side of the sanctuary.In the floor close to my feet was a yawning chasm, into which, from sohigh over my head that in the uncertain light I could not distinguish itsorigin, hung a chain. At the sight a strange wave of memory swept overme. I could not but remember the chain which hung over the glass-coveredtomb in the Crypt, and I had an instinctive feeling that the grim chasmin the floor of the sanctuary was but the other side of the opening inthe roof of the crypt from which the chain over the sarcophagus depended.There was a creaking sound--the groaning of a windlass and the clankingof a chain. There was heavy breathing close to me somewhere. I was sointent on what was going on that I did not see that one by one, seemingto grow out of the surrounding darkness, several black figures in monkishgarb appeared with the silence of ghosts. Their faces were shrouded inblack cowls, wherein were holes through which I could see dark gleamingeyes. My guide held me tightly by the hand. This gave me a feeling ofsecurity in the touch which helped to retain within my breast somesemblance of calm.The strain of the creaking windlass and the clanking chain continued forso long that the suspense became almost unendurable. At last there cameinto sight an iron ring, from which as a centre depended four lesserchains spreading wide. In a few seconds more I could see that these werefixed to the corners of the great stone tomb with the covering of glass,which was being dragged upward. As it arose it filled closely the wholeaperture. When its bottom had reached the level of the floor it stopped,and remained rigid. There was no room for oscillation. It was at oncesurrounded by a number of black figures, who raised the glass coveringand bore it away into the darkness. Then there stepped forward a verytall man, black-bearded, and with head-gear like my guide, but made intriple tiers, he also was gorgeously arrayed in flowing robes of cloth ofgold richly embroidered. He raised his hand, and forthwith eight otherblack-clad figures stepped forward, and bending over the stone coffin,raised from it the rigid form of my Lady, still clad in her Shroud, andlaid it gently on the floor of the sanctuary.I felt it a grace that at that instant the dim lights seemed to growless, and finally to disappear--all save the tiny points that marked theoutline of the great Cross high overhead. These only gave light enoughto accentuate the gloom. The hand that held mine now released it, andwith a sigh I realized that I was alone. After a few moments more of thegroaning of the winch and clanking of the chain there was a sharp soundof stone meeting stone; then there was silence. I listened acutely, butcould not hear near me the slightest sound. Even the cautious,restrained breathing around me, of which up to then I had been conscious,had ceased. Not knowing, in the helplessness of my ignorance, what Ishould do, I remained as I was, still and silent, for a time that seemedendless. At last, overcome by some emotion which I could not at themoment understand, I slowly sank to my knees and bowed my head. Coveringmy face with my hands, I tried to recall the prayers of my youth. It wasnot, I am certain, that fear in any form had come upon me, or that Ihesitated or faltered in my intention. That much I know now; I knew iteven then. It was, I believe, that the prolonged impressive gloom andmystery had at last touched me to the quick. The bending of the kneeswas but symbolical of the bowing of the spirit to a higher Power. When Ihad realized that much, I felt more content than I had done since I hadentered the church, and with the renewed consciousness of courage, tookmy hands from my face, and lifted again my bowed head.Impulsively I sprang to my feet and stood erect--waiting. All seemed tohave changed since I had dropped on my knees. The points of light abouttime church, which had been eclipsed, had come again, and were growing inpower to a partial revealing of the dim expanse. Before me was the tablewith the open book, on which were laid the gold and silver rings and thetwo crowns of flowers. There were also two tall candles, with tiniestflames of blue--the only living light to be seen.Out of the darkness stepped the same tall figure in the gorgeous robesand the triple hat. He led by the hand my Lady, still clad in herShroud; but over it, descending from the crown of her head, was a veil ofvery old and magnificent lace of astonishing fineness. Even in that dimlight I could note the exquisite beauty of the fabric. The veil wasfastened with a bunch of tiny sprays of orange-blossom mingled withcypress and laurel--a strange combination. In her hand she carried agreat bouquet of the same. Its sweet intoxicating odour floated up to mynostrils. It and the sentiment which its very presence evoked made mequiver.Yielding to the guiding of the hand which held hers, she stood at my leftside before the table. Her guide then took his place behind her. Ateither end of the table, to right and left of us, stood a long-beardedpriest in splendid robes, and wearing the hat with depending veil ofblack. One of them, who seemed to be the more important of the two, andtook the initiative, signed to us to put our right hands on the openbook. My Lady, of course, understood the ritual, and knew the wordswhich the priest was speaking, and of her own accord put out her hand.My guide at the same moment directed my hand to the same end. Itthrilled me to touch my Lady's hand, even under such mysteriousconditions.After the priest had signed us each thrice on the forehead with the signof the Cross, he gave to each of us a tiny lighted taper brought to himfor the purpose. The lights were welcome, not so much for the solace ofthe added light, great as that was, but because it allowed us to see alittle more of each other's faces. It was rapture to me to see the faceof my Bride; and from the expression of her face I was assured that shefelt as I did. It gave me an inexpressible pleasure when, as her eyesrested on me, there grew a faint blush over the grey pallor of hercheeks.The priest then put in solemn voice to each of us in turn, beginning withme, the questions of consent which are common to all such rituals. Ianswered as well as I could, following the murmured words of my guide.My Lady answered out proudly in a voice which, though given softly,seemed to ring. It was a concern--even a grief--to me that I could not,in the priest's questioning, catch her name, of which, strangelyenough,--I was ignorant. But, as I did not know the language, and as thephrases were not in accord literally with our own ritual, I could notmake out which word was the name.After some prayers and blessings, rhythmically spoken or sung by aninvisible choir, the priest took the rings from the open book, and, aftersigning my forehead thrice with the gold one as he repeated the blessingin each case, placed it on my right hand; then he gave my Lady the silverone, with the same ritual thrice repeated. I suppose it was the blessingwhich is the effective point in making two into one.After this, those who stood behind us exchanged our rings thrice, takingthem from one finger and placing them on the other, so that at the end mywife wore the gold ring and I the silver one.Then came a chant, during which the priest swung the censer himself, andmy wife and I held our tapers. After that he blessed us, the responsescoming from the voices of the unseen singers in the darkness.After a long ritual of prayer and blessing, sung in triplicate, thepriest took the crowns of flowers, and put one on the head of each,crowning me first, and with the crown tied with gold. Then he signed andblessed us each thrice. The guides, who stood behind us, exchanged ourcrowns thrice, as they had exchanged the rings; so that at the last, as Iwas glad to see, my wife wore the crown of gold, and I that of silver.Then there came, if it is possible to describe such a thing, a hush overeven that stillness, as though some form of added solemnity were to begone through. I was not surprised, therefore, when the priest took inhis hands the great golden chalice. Kneeling, my wife and I partooktogether thrice.When we had risen from our knees and stood for a little while, the priesttook my left hand in his right, and I, by direction of my guide, gave myright hand to my wife. And so in a line, the priest leading, we circledround the table in rhythmic measure. Those who supported us moved behindus, holding the crowns over our heads, and replacing them when westopped.After a hymn, sung through the darkness, the priest took off our crowns.This was evidently the conclusion of the ritual, for the priest placed usin each other's arms to embrace each other. Then he blessed us, who werenow man and wife!The lights went out at once, some as if extinguished, others slowlyfading down to blackness.Left in the dark, my wife and I sought each other's arms again, and stoodtogether for a few moments heart to heart, tightly clasping each other,and kissed each other fervently.Instinctively we turned to the door of the church, which was slightlyopen, so that we could see the moonlight stealing in through theaperture. With even steps, she holding me tightly by the left arm--whichis the wife's arm, we passed through the old church and out into the freeair.Despite all that the gloom had brought me, it was sweet to be in the openair and together--this quite apart from our new relations to each other.The moon rode high, and the full light, coming after the dimness ordarkness in the church, seemed as bright as day. I could now, for thefirst time, see my wife's face properly. The glamour of the moonlightmay have served to enhance its ethereal beauty, but neither moonlight norsunlight could do justice to that beauty in its living human splendour.As I gloried in her starry eyes I could think of nothing else; but whenfor a moment my eyes, roving round for the purpose of protection, caughtsight of her whole figure, there was a pang to my heart. The brilliantmoonlight showed every detail in terrible effect, and I could see thatshe wore only her Shroud. In the moment of darkness, after the lastbenediction, before she returned to my arms, she must have removed herbridal veil. This may, of course, have been in accordance with theestablished ritual of her church; but, all the same, my heart was sore.The glamour of calling her my very own was somewhat obscured by thebridal adornment being shorn. But it made no difference in her sweetnessto me. Together we went along the path through the wood, she keepingequal step with me in wifely way.When we had come through the trees near enough to see the roof of theCastle, now gilded with the moonlight, she stopped, and looking at mewith eyes full of love, said:"Here I must leave you!""What?" I was all aghast, and I felt that my chagrin was expressed inthe tone of horrified surprise in my voice. She went on quickly:"Alas! It is impossible that I should go farther--at present!""But what is to prevent you?" I queried. "You are now my wife. This isour wedding-night; and surely your place is with me!" The wail in hervoice as she answered touched me to the quick:"Oh, I know, I know! There is no dearer wish in my heart--there can benone--than to share my husband's home. Oh, my dear, my dear, if you onlyknew what it would be to me to be with you always! But indeed I maynot--not yet! I am not free! If you but knew how much that which hashappened to-night has cost me--or how much cost to others as well as tomyself may be yet to come--you would understand. Rupert"--it was thefirst time she had ever addressed me by name, and naturally it thrilledme through and through--"Rupert, my husband, only that I trust you withall the faith which is in perfect love--mutual love, I dare not have donewhat I have done this night. But, dear, I know that you will bear meout; that your wife's honour is your honour, even as your honour is mine.My honour is given to this; and you can help me--the only help I can haveat present--by trusting me. Be patient, my beloved, be patient! Oh, bepatient for a little longer! It shall not be for long. So soon as evermy soul is freed I shall come to you, my husband; and we shall never partagain. Be content for a while! Believe me that I love you with my verysoul; and to keep away from your dear side is more bitter for me thaneven it can be for you! Think, my dear one, I am not as other women are,as some day you shall clearly understand. I am at the present, and shallbe for a little longer, constrained by duties and obligations put upon meby others, and for others, and to which I am pledged by the most sacredpromises--given not only by myself, but by others--and which I must notforgo. These forbid me to do as I wish. Oh, trust me, my beloved--myhusband!"She held out her hands appealingly. The moonlight, falling through thethinning forest, showed her white cerements. Then the recollection ofall she must have suffered--the awful loneliness in that grim tomb in theCrypt, the despairing agony of one who is helpless against theunknown--swept over me in a wave of pity. What could I do but save herfrom further pain? And this could only be by showing her my faith andtrust. If she was to go back to that dreadful charnel-house, she wouldat least take with her the remembrance that one who loved her and whomshe loved--to whom she had been lately bound in the mystery ofmarriage--trusted her to the full. I loved her more than myself--morethan my own soul; and I was moved by pity so great that all possibleselfishness was merged in its depths. I bowed my head before her--myLady and my Wife--as I said:"So be it, my beloved. I trust you to the full, even as you trust me.And that has been proven this night, even to my own doubting heart. Ishall wait; and as I know you wish it, I shall wait as patiently as Ican. But till you come to me for good and all, let me see you or hearfrom you when you can. The time, dear wife, must go heavily with me as Ithink of you suffering and lonely. So be good to me, and let not toolong a time elapse between my glimpses of hope. And, sweetheart, whenyou do come to me, it shall be for ever!" There was something in theintonation of the last sentence--I felt its sincerity myself--someimplied yearning for a promise, that made her beautiful eyes swim. Theglorious stars in them were blurred as she answered with a fervour whichseemed to me as more than earthly:"For ever! I swear it!"With one long kiss, and a straining in each others arms, which left metingling for long after we had lost sight of each other, we parted. Istood and watched her as her white figure, gliding through the deepeninggloom, faded as the forest thickened. It surely was no optical delusionor a phantom of the mind that her shrouded arm was raised as though inblessing or farewell before the darkness swallowed her up.