The Birth of a Soul. A psychological study

Chapter I

' As tire seed wakes and finds itself a tree, My time-life opened to Eternity." It is a luxurious room. Everything in and about it speaks of wealth and the cultured taste of one who has discerned the beauty of comfort, and ranked it above the craze of fashion. The tone is subdued without being heavy; a few costly pictures hang on the walls which are otherwise lined with books — books of all kinds and in all languages : for Nathaniel Halfond has been a student and a thinker all his life. He is now lying on a couch which stands about a yard away from the open window that looks on to a lawn intersected with beds of lovely flowers. It is late in July. The sun is setting, and he, as he lies there watching it, knows that for him it is setting for the last time on earth. He is dying ; has been slowly dying for some weary weeks, wondering if each day is to be his last.

But noAV he knows that the end has come. He refuses, however, to permit any outward evidences of death or disease to be visible in his surroundings. Each day he is dressed and carried from his bedroom into this, his library, to spend a few more hours among the books which he has loved so well and that have proved such true friends to him through life. It cheers him to see them, even while the sun is setting, and the flowers are wafting their perfume for the last time in tender sympathy upon his dying senses. l: THE BIRTH OF A SOIL. 2 He has a fine face, with marked, well-cut features, aod eyes that shine even now with the energy of an earnest nature and a vigorous intellect. In youth he must have been strong, tall, and well-looking. Now the limbs are grown frail and feeble through months of wasting sickness.

But the face is grandly thoughtful, and wears a resigned expression. It is the resigna tion, however, of the stoic and not of the belieA-er. " Je vais chercher le grand peut-etre," he murmurs. "What is it ? Where is it ? Or is it all ? " He draws a weary sigh of uncertainty. His eyes, which for some short space have been watching A-aguely the sun-tinted clouds, now turn towards the door with longing expectation. " She is late," he thinks. " Oh, to leaA'e her and my child ! This is indeed the sting of death to me. What a struggle it has been ! And yet, what is she to me ? Nothing ! Only my nearest neighbour. But my heart knows the rest." The thought overpowers him. He remains with closed eyes for some time lost to everything. He may have passed away, to judge from the death-like pallor of his face and the breath less stillness of his form.

Presently his eyes open wide and lustrous as if fired with the energy of a new thought. " Is it so ? " as Emerson says, he questions, " ' that the long ing of a soul is the prophecy of its fulfilment.' Oh, if I might but believe it ! How patiently would I die and wait ! Oh, if there be indeed a Hereafter— and the soul hungers to believe it — may it be one bound by no narrow creeds and cruel distinc tions. How they have closed the door of happiness for me and may do so again for Alix, my child ! But for her I would have burst these chains ; but she is my only child. I dared not selfishly beggar her to purchase my own happiness. How will it be with her when I am gone ? Oh, that I could forecast the future and know ! " His meditations are interrupted by a lady who enters. '■ I am late," she says, apologetically, in a voice singularly sweet and gentle, as she goes over to the couch and takes her seat by his side.

A faint tinge of colour suffuses his dying face. It is all that marks the spasm of mingled joy and pain Avhich thrills him as his eyes dwell upon her. She is a woman of middle age, tall and slight ; with a face which thought and feeling have invested with beauty of the highest order. Her hair is almost white, and contrasts pic turesquely AA-ith the still rounded cheeks and delicate fresh complexion. " I like you in that dress," he murmurs, as his eyes wander up and down, following the A-arying folds of the dark red cash mere of her dress, relieved only at the throat and wrists by soft lace, and at her Avaist by a silver belt, from which hangs a chatelaine. She answers him with a smile only, and then he says : "Oh, my friend, I have had a strong prevision all day; I feel as if you had come to see me for the last time."

"You must not say that," she returns, with soothing voice. " Let me get our book, and drive away your fancies. You were greatly interested at the point I reached yesterday." She stretches her hand out towards the book which has been placed in readiness on a table near. " No : I can bear no reading to-day. I AA-ant to speak to you. The time is short, I may have no other opportunity." " Don't say that, I entreat." " Yes, let me say it, even if I am wrong. But something tells me that I shall not see another sunset, and I have so much that I must say. Let me hold your hand, if I may. See, I am dying ; and death, if it gives oblivion, gives also freedom." " I beg you not to exhaust your strength," she pleads. " Let me read to you." " No : I have closed all books for ever. I shall never read another."

" Not here, but there, and in abundance. E " Yes : I know your faith builds up all manner of fairy palaces for the future. I wish— oh, how I wish !— I could share your fancies and find them facts." " That matters little," she returns. " Outside your unbelief and my belief there lies the grand unalterable eternal fact itself. You will at least know that ; and with that knowledge and renewed vision Avhat may you not see and believe ? " He closes his eyes as she speaks. Yearning and doubt are written on his face. " Where is Alix ? " she asks. " I did not see her as I came through the garden." " I made her go for a ride. She has been in close attendance upon me all the day. My poor Alix ! It is of her I want to speak to you, if you will — to do me a kindness before I die. Will you, Gertrude ? " He had never addressed her by her name before.

She felt what it meant, and could not refuse him. "What is it ? You know I will if I can." "You are alone in the world — you have no ties. Will it be too great a sacrifice to ask you to leave your pretty cottage where you have lived and been my neighbour now for seven years — yes " — he continued, drawn by these words into another channel of thought, "Yes : we have known each other for seven years, and they have been the happiest and unhappiest I have ever known." "No, not unhappy." " Yes, for every heart knows its needs and its denials. But they have been happy years also. Has it not been a happiness to see you every day — to speak to you, O, friend of my heart and soul, and to worship you silently ! " "Hush! hush ! I beseech." "No: death gives freedom! Let me speak. You have realised for me all that my heart and mind have ever formed of the ideal of truth, beauty, and worth in Avoman — and — you — were —not for me !

" The unutterable pathos with \A-hich these words are wrung from him tell their own tale of suppressed suffering. He does not speak again for some time. Hot tears are streaming from her eyes noiselessly. She smothers her emotions to spare him pain. " No : you were not for me," he reiterates sadly, as if the silent interval has been passed in dwelling on their cruel meaning. "And yet," he continues, "I had never known what love was until I knew you. Alix's mother was a wife to be remembered with tenderness and affection. She was hand some, talented, and accomplished. I was proud of her. Her voice was superb. Alix inherits it. But oh ! the wide world that lies between affection and love ! We may feel an affec tion for many, but the soul of man is so formed he can haA-e only one love ; and you, Gertrude, have been that love for me."

A sob breaks from her which he scarcely heeds. " I haAe never sought to know whether the loA*e I bear you is returned. I dared not ask it. I dare not ask it eA-en now. I was hedged round Avith a cruel proviso that left me nothing to offer if I gained the love of one not of my own race and religion. The same proviso descends to my child to curse her life also, should she, like me, find her heart's home outside her people. Like the Hindoos, we are caste-bound. To burst the bonds of this caste is, for many of us, to be branded as pariahs by our brethren. Ambitious exclusiveness as the chosen of God and a passion for glittering externals are wedded with our race. The offspring of this union is a bigotry and wealth-greed un rivalled upon earth." " Dear friend, you are exhausting all your strength.

Will you not wait ? Do I not know all that you would say ? Have I not read your noble heart and felt its bondage far more than you think ? " " Yes : I might have guessed this, for sympathy gives insight. I felt that you were mine in that wide heart-Avorld that knows of no restrictions or limitations, and this knowledge has made me curse my bondage all the more bitterly. I will say no more. If there be a heaven— ah, would to God I could believe it. " "AVill you not suffer the love you feel to be its own pro phetic assurance ? " " The Agnostic has no faith. Sense limits belief. He only knows that he does not know. Let me look through your eyes. Let me lean on your faith, and leave this world hoping it may be as you say, and then " " And then we must meet again ! But the time was short between them.

He had spoken of something he wanted her to do. She recalls him to that point. " What is it I can do for you ? You were about to ask me." " Yes, let me say it while I can. I feel you will not refuse me. Will you come and live AA-ith Alix when I am gone? She must have some lady to reside with her, and knows it is my dying wish that you should fill that place, if you will consent to make this sacrifice for her. She will be the abso lute mistress of a large fortune, and free to order her life as she pleases, as she is of age. But she holds her fortune as I have held mine— on the condition that she marries one of her own people and religion. Should she marry out of the faith she loses all. The conditions were of my father's ordering. We have to abide by them or forfeit the money he bequeathed.

And now that you know all, will you do as I ask, and help my poor child ? " " Indeed, I will ; and so long as I have anything she shall share it with me, should she be so unfortunate as to fix her affection where she is compelled to sacrifice her wealth. I have no ties, as you say. I have only Gwynne." "That is the cousin you have sometimes spoken of. He has been abroad, has he not ? I have never seen him. His name is Falkenham." " Yes, that is Gwynne, to Avhom I owe everything. I cannot tell you my sad story now. It has been painful enough ; but at present I am free to order my life as I please ; and I will devote myself to Alix. I will come and live with her — and I will be as if — as if — I had borne your name, and Avere indeed her mother." An expression of rapture passes over the dying man's face as he listens to her words, for he has read in her eyes far more than from her words that he is loA-ed even as he loves.

"Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and she became his own at last," he murmurs abstractedly. " Oh, God ! I have not lived in vain ! This moment — is it a foretaste of Eter nity ? " he cries, Avith rising energy. He turns to her, and looks up into her eyes. "Gertrude, beloved, surely we are not parting — this is meeting. Kiss me," he pleads faintly. " Death — gives — freedom." She bends her head reverently in the presence of Death, and touches his dying lips tenderly with her own. " Oh, my beloved ! not Death but Life giA-es freedom," she whispers, in answer to his last words, as she sees a smile of joy light up his dying face. But he had passed out of her mortal hearing. He had gone through the gates of Death into another Life, and she was alone.

Chapter II

"As water-lilies mourn the fading year, Fond hearts deplore him on the earth. She remained for some time lost in thought. It seemed as if during that space her soul also had gone from her, and had not in vain striven to follow his. Oh ! the world of sense that now divided them ! But a strange peace, a joy beyond words thrilled her as she felt that noAV at least there were no longer any barriers to that communion of thought which brings the distant near, and makes us one with the departed. Her soul was rapt in a sense of nearness to the Infinite that bore her up beyond the reach of even tears and sorrow. She breathed a sigh of thankfulness as she knelt by his couch, and, placing her lips on the scarce-cold hand, she murmured half audibly : " Your warfare is accomplished. Oh, my friend ! your eyes are seeing, your ears are hearing, at last Avhat the world has darkened to you for so long.

For yours was a true soul ; held back ever from the light your OA-er-trained reason trembled to accept, because the cold hand of scepticism had laid its hold upon you, and you had no strength of faith to fling it from you. But your life Avas exemplary. You did justly ; you loved mercy : and the Infinite God does not forget ! Your scepticism was a blindness, but now your eyes are open and you see ! Ah ! I felt it in that last rapturous glance you gaA-e. LoA-e gives insight. Could I wish you here again after this ? Nay, I resign you with all my soul ; knowing that in a higher world you have found that which was mine also." The sound of horses' feet outside aroused her from her meditations. Rising hurriedly, she rang the bell. It was answered by a fcotman, who came in cautiously, anxiously. One glance at the blanched face of the lady, as she pointed to the couch, told him what had happened.

" Oh, my dear Master ! " exclaimed the man with a suppressed cry. " Hush ! Wilson, I hear Miss Halfond just returning. She must not be startled. She is unprepared for this." " I feared he Avould not last out the day," said the man, in a broken voice. " He said he felt this morning, when I dressed and laid him on the couch, that it was for the last time. I am so thankful, Ma'am, that you were with him. Did he go off sudden at the last ? " "Yes : I did not expect it. But hush !" For Alix had dismounted, and Avas now crossing the hall to her father's room. " Go at once and stop her, Wilson. Tell her I want to speak to her in the drawing-room before I leave." In a moment the man had calmed his face. He went out only just in time to prevent his young mistress from coming unprepared into the presence of her dead father.

The message was sufficient for Alix, who at once turned aside into the drawing-room. "Tell Mrs. Hanham I am here; and — Wilson — how is papa ? " " Mrs. Hanham has been with him all the time ; she will tell you, Miss," said the man, evading the question, and hiding his own emotions. " She is coming noAV." As he spoke he held the door open for Mrs. Hanham to pass through. She walked sloAvly towards Alix, the girl who, for all her THE BLRTH OF A SOUL. 10 wealth of beauty and possessions, was deeply to be pitied. Yearning love and tenderness were in Mrs. Hanham's heart as she said, softly : " Alix, my love " But Alix interrupted her, exclaiming : " You have bad news for me. I read it in your face — what is it ? Why do you look at me so ? Tell me ! You don't find papa so well this evening, that is it.

He has been full of strange fancies all day. 1 did not want to leave him, but he insisted on my going out. I feared to agitate him by disobey ing. Tell me, Gertrude. What is it ? You look too sad for anything——-" She spoke volubly, excitedly, as if she feared to hear some thing, and could by talking remove the dread which came creeping into her heart moment by moment. Death was something terrible to her. She had never seen it face to face. Was it death ? " Not death ! " she screamed, her eyes dilating with horror, as she fastened her gaze with terrified questioning on the face of her friend, whose silence and expressive sadness had told her all. " No, my child," cried Mrs. Hanham, tenderly taking her in her arms. Leading her almost fainting to the sofa, she drew her to her bosom as a mother would her child.

"No: not Death, but Life," she whispered. " Can you bear it ? Will you not bear it bravely — for his sake ? " " No, I cannot — if— if " she exclaims, starting up wildly in an access of passionate grief, tossing her riding hat from off her head, and pressing her hands to her temples in a convulsion of anguish. " No, no, don't tell me he is dead," she moans, rocking herself wildly to and fro. " I can't — I won't believe it ! How dare you say he is dead ! " "I did not say it, my child. I said it was Life. Oh! can you not try to believe this? It will calm you as nothing else can." " No, I can believe nothing. What do you know ? AVhat does anyone know ? My father — oh, my father ! where are you ? Oh, how could you leave me — your poor Alix — all alone ? " she cried, giving herself up to poignant grief.

When her despair had spent itself somewhat, Mrs. Hanham said : "Would you not like to see him ? He is looking so peaceful, so beautiful, in death." At the mention of that word Alix shuddered. " I haA-e never seen death ; what is it like? Oh, is it ghastly? I shall not see my father, only a corpse. My father was living. He loved me. He spoke to me ; but a corpse ! It is not my father." "You should conquer this, dear — if you can. You would grieve not to see him." " Would he grieve, do you think ? Then, let me go," she said, rising. " I will conquer this aAvful dread that seizes me there, when I think of death." she cried, pointing to her heart. " That is right ; come with me," said Mrs. Hanham, supporting her, as Alix gathered the folds of her riding-habit about her, and, leaning heavily on her friend's arm, braced herself to see death for the first time.

Every nerve was trembling, still she persisted. " Is it in the library ? " she asked in a hushed voice, striken with awe. " Yes. Be brave, my darling. It will comfort you always, to see his dear and noble face free from every trace of pain and suffering." But the heart Avithin his poor child was weak. As she neared the door that led into the room where her father still lay, and felt that in another moment she would be in the presence of the King of Terrors, a sense of the awful over whelmed her. Her breath grew short, her eyes refused to see, her limbs tottered, and she fell across the threshold swooning with dread. " My poor child ! It is more than you can bear," cried Mrs. Hanham, from whose supporting arm Alix had slipped without warning. In a moment servants were at hand, and she was carried up stairs to her own room, which she did not leave until after the funeral.

The sense of death oppressed and suffocated her. She could not bring herself to pass the chamber AA-here it reposed ; and refused to associate it with the living father whom it had torn from her. She trembled to think it was near her, in the house, a Presence that made her spirit quail with weird and horrible fancies. Her mind stole out to the chill resting-place of the tomb. Oh ! it was ghastly ! It was horrible ! In those few days she was the prey of terror. In vain did Mrs. Hanham approach her with consoling thoughts. Her mind had no receptacle for them. It was as if she had spoken in an unknown tongue, for the girl's mind was dark to spiritual consolation. She suffered acutely, for she was a girl of strong character. Hitherto her life had been one long pleasure. She was rarely gifted and beautiful.

Courted and flattered wherever she went, she had been a stranger to sorrow until now, and now it was a horror and a shock against which she revolted. The house had been filled with relatives and friends who had come to do honour to the memory of Nathaniel Halfond. She refused to see them. The only ones she would suffer to approach her were Mrs. Hanham and her old Irish nurse, who had been with her from childhood. She sent messages to her uncle and friends to pardon and excuse her. Even at the reading of her father's will she declined to be present. But her senses, more than ever active, had been strained to the uttermost to catch every sound ; her mind was throughout the time an instrument on which the King of Terrors played tormentingly. It was not until her father's remains had left the house that he lived again for his child.

While he had lain there unburied he was the representative of Death, from Avhose icy touch she recoiled. It was with a sense of relief that she found herself alone at last. Death, the ghastly gaoler who had been keeping watch for so many days, had gone, and had taken with him his hateful crew of symbolic mourners. She breathed freely once more. And now she was left alone with her beloved father's memory, and on this she dwelt so tenderly, so passionately, that he lived for her in that kingdom of thought which is spiritual presence. His slightest wish came back to her as a law. One of these Avas that she should ask Mrs. Hanham to live • with her. She determined to do so, although she feared a denial. Still, if Gertrude would come and live Avith her, the question of her future would be settled at once.

Everything could go on as it had done in her father's lifetime. It was with some hesitation that she made her request, about ten days or more after the funeral, during which time she had been slowly recovering from the shock she had sus tained. They were sitting together in Alix's own sitting-room, which Avas a triumph of comfort and elegance combined, illustrating practically the newest devices for attaining these ends. Alix, as usual, was silent and listless. Mrs. Hanham waited on her moods with tact and patience. The girl's heart was sick, and words would not heal it. Alix rose from her seat, and going over to Mrs. Hanham put her arms round her neck ; then, in a pleading tone, said : "You won't leave me now that I am left all alone, will you, Gertrude ? I know I am asking almost more than I ought — that you should give up your own pretty home, your flowers, your freedom, all for me.

But papa wished it. He knew how much I loved you. Oh ! I shall die if you leave me too ! " she sobbed. "No, darling, I have no intention of doing so. In that last interview I had with your father I promised him that I would remain with you. I hold my promise to him sacred. But you will understand, dear, that I want nothing from you, but will rather give to you, should you ever be in need.'' She could have touched the girl in no surer way. To haA-e such a friend on whose heart to rest for the remainder of her life, was to have strength and protection of no common order. She now kissed her passionately, gratefully, exclaiming : " Oh ! my darling ! my friend ! my mother ! for you are and shall be all these to me. How I love you ! How you console me ! I will never leave you. Thy people shall be my people.

Thy God, my God." " Hush ! Alix. Don't say anything so rash. You don't know what you would profnise." " Yes, I do. Shall that which is reckoned a glory to Ruth be a shame for me ? I know no law but love. I want no God but love." " My child, you are talking wildly. You do not yet know your own heart." " Why, do you think there is any power stronger than loA-e that could influence me ? " asked Alix, looking up in her friend's face with surprise. "Yes, dear, I do— at least, I think I do." " What is it ? " " Don't let us speak of this subject now. "Yes : now ! " cried Alix, all other feeling being held in sus pense by impatience. "Tell me quickly what is the power stronger than love." " The love of wealth and the love of the world," said Mrs. Hanham slowly. " The Avorld ! " echoed Alix. " I despise it " So you think now, my child, but you have yet to learn its power."

" AVhat have I to do with the world ? I defy it. I have money, and can command it ! " returned the girl proudly. " I am safe ! " " Until you love, perhaps— and then ?" " And then — what of that ? I can marry whom I please." Mrs. Hanham made her no reply. She saw, however, that Alix was ignorant of the provisions by which she could retain her wealth. And she had not studied her if she did not see that herein would lie her rock ahead. " Why are you silent ? " " Because, dear, I have no reply to make." For Mrs. Hanham felt that the knowledge of her wealth, and the conditions of her holding it, had better be deferred until Alix had had an interview with her uncle and trustee. Since her father had not told her, it was not for her to anticipate the announcement.

Chapter III

" No man is wedded to obscurest night Like him that owns a partial Deity." "Very strange conduct indeed," was the remark of Lady Hal fond at breakfast the morning after the funeral of her brother in-law Nathaniel Halfond. The remark was provoked by. a letter Sir Max Halfond had just read aloud from Alix, declining the offer of either her aunt's or her cousins' society for the present. " And, pray, is she alone, or who is with her ? " demanded Lady Halfond, as she put down her knife and fork. " A Mrs. Hanham," said Sir Max, returning Alix's letter to its envelope. " And who may she be ? " " Don't you know that mysterious lady who had the cottage next to my brother's villa ? A very handsome, superior kind of person, I must admit," said Sir Max, with lofty condescension. " You remember her surely ?