The House on the Borderland (17 page)

My thoughts came back with a leap. I was conscious that something had
touched me. I turned quickly. God, Thou wert indeed gracious—it was
She! She looked up into my eyes, with an eager longing, and I looked
down to her, with all my soul. I should like to have held her; but the
glorious purity of her face, kept me afar. Then, out of the winding
mist, she put her dear arms. Her whisper came to me, soft as the rustle
of a passing cloud. 'Dearest!' she said. That was all; but I had heard,
and, in a moment I held her to me—as I prayed—forever.

In a little, she spoke of many things, and I listened. Willingly, would
I have done so through all the ages that are to come. At times, I
whispered back, and my whispers brought to her spirit face, once more,
an indescribably delicate tint—the bloom of love. Later, I spoke more
freely, and to each word she listened, and made answer, delightfully; so
that, already, I was in Paradise.

She and I; and nothing, save the silent, spacious void to see us; and
only the quiet waters of the Sea of Sleep to hear us.

Long before, the floating multitude of cloud-enfolded spheres had
vanished into nothingness. Thus, we looked upon the face of the
slumberous deeps, and were alone. Alone, God, I would be thus alone in
the hereafter, and yet be never lonely! I had her, and, greater than
this, she had me. Aye, aeon-aged me; and on this thought, and some
others, I hope to exist through the few remaining years that may yet lie
between us.

How long our souls lay in the arms of joy, I cannot say; but, all at
once, I was waked from my happiness, by a diminution of the pale and
gentle light that lit the Sea of Sleep. I turned toward the huge, white
orb, with a premonition of coming trouble. One side of it was curving
inward, as though a convex, black shadow were sweeping across it. My
memory went back. It was thus, that the darkness had come, before our
last parting. I turned toward my Love, inquiringly. With a sudden
knowledge of woe, I noticed how wan and unreal she had grown, even in
that brief space. Her voice seemed to come to me from a distance. The
touch of her hands was no more than the gentle pressure of a summer
wind, and grew less perceptible.

Already, quite half of the immense globe was shrouded. A feeling of
desperation seized me. Was she about to leave me? Would she have to go,
as she had gone before? I questioned her, anxiously, frightenedly; and
she, nestling closer, explained, in that strange, faraway voice, that it
was imperative she should leave me, before the Sun of Darkness—as she
termed it—blotted out the light. At this confirmation of my fears, I
was overcome with despair; and could only look, voicelessly, across the
quiet plains of the silent sea.

How swiftly the darkness spread across the face of the White Orb. Yet,
in reality, the time must have been long, beyond human comprehension.

At last, only a crescent of pale fire, lit the, now dim, Sea of Sleep.
All this while, she had held me; but, with so soft a caress, that I had
been scarcely conscious of it. We waited there, together, she and I;
speechless, for very sorrow. In the dimming light, her face showed,
shadowy—blending into the dusky mistiness that encircled us.

Then, when a thin, curved line of soft light was all that lit the sea,
she released me—pushing me from her, tenderly. Her voice sounded in my
ears, 'I may not stay longer, Dear One.' It ended in a sob.

She seemed to float away from me, and became invisible. Her voice came
to me, out of the shadows, faintly; apparently from a great distance:—

'A little while—' It died away, remotely. In a breath, the Sea of
Sleep darkened into night. Far to my left, I seemed to see, for a brief
instant, a soft glow. It vanished, and, in the same moment, I became
aware that I was no longer above the still sea; but once more suspended
in infinite space, with the Green Sun—now eclipsed by a vast, dark
sphere—before me.

Utterly bewildered, I stared, almost unseeingly, at the ring of green
flames, leaping above the dark edge. Even in the chaos of my thoughts, I
wondered, dully, at their extraordinary shapes. A multitude of questions
assailed me. I thought more of her, I had so lately seen, than of the
sight before me. My grief, and thoughts of the future, filled me. Was I
doomed to be separated from her, always? Even in the old earth-days, she
had been mine, only for a little while; then she had left me, as I
thought, forever. Since then, I had seen her but these times, upon the
Sea of Sleep.

A feeling of fierce resentment filled me, and miserable questionings.
Why could I not have gone with my Love? What reason to keep us apart?
Why had I to wait alone, while she slumbered through the years, on the
still bosom of the Sea of Sleep? The Sea of Sleep! My thoughts turned,
inconsequently, out of their channel of bitterness, to fresh, desperate
questionings. Where was it? Where was it? I seemed to have but just
parted from my Love, upon its quiet surface, and it had gone, utterly.
It could not be far away! And the White Orb which I had seen hidden in
the shadow of the Sun of Darkness! My sight dwelt upon the Green
Sun—eclipsed. What had eclipsed it? Was there a vast, dead star
circling it? Was the
Central
Sun—as I had come to regard it—a double
star? The thought had come, almost unbidden; yet why should it not
be so?

My thoughts went back to the White Orb. Strange, that it should have
been—I stopped. An idea had come, suddenly. The White Orb and the Green
Sun! Were they one and the same? My imagination wandered backward, and I
remembered the luminous globe to which I had been so unaccountably
attracted. It was curious that I should have forgotten it, even
momentarily. Where were the others? I reverted again to the globe I had
entered. I thought, for a time, and matters became clearer. I conceived
that, by entering that impalpable globule, I had passed, at once, into
some further, and, until then, invisible dimension; There, the Green Sun
was still visible; but as a stupendous sphere of pale, white
light—almost as though its ghost showed, and not its material part.

A long time, I mused on the subject. I remembered how, on entering the
sphere, I had, immediately, lost all sight of the others. For a still
further period, I continued to revolve the different details in my mind.

In a while, my thoughts turned to other things. I came more into the
present, and began to look about me, seeingly. For the first time, I
perceived that innumerable rays, of a subtle, violet hue, pierced the
strange semi-darkness, in all directions. They radiated from the fiery
rim of the Green Sun. They seemed to grow upon my vision, so that, in a
little, I saw that they were countless. The night was filled with
them—spreading outward from the Green Sun, fan-wise. I concluded that I
was enabled to see them, by reason of the Sun's glory being cut off by
the eclipse. They reached right out into space, and vanished.

Gradually, as I looked, I became aware that fine points of intensely
brilliant light, traversed the rays. Many of them seemed to travel from
the Green Sun, into distance. Others came out of the void, toward the
Sun; but one and all, each kept strictly to the ray in which it
traveled. Their speed was inconceivably great; and it was only when they
neared the Green Sun, or as they left it, that I could see them as
separate specks of light. Further from the sun, they became thin lines
of vivid fire within the violet.

The discovery of these rays, and the moving sparks, interested me,
extraordinarily. To where did they lead, in such countless profusion? I
thought of the worlds in space.... And those sparks! Messengers!
Possibly, the idea was fantastic; but I was not conscious of its being
so. Messengers! Messengers from the Central Sun!

An idea evolved itself, slowly. Was the Green Sun the abode of some
vast Intelligence? The thought was bewildering. Visions of the Unnameable
rose, vaguely. Had I, indeed, come upon the dwelling-place of the
Eternal? For a time, I repelled the thought, dumbly. It was too
stupendous. Yet....

Huge, vague thoughts had birth within me. I felt, suddenly, terribly
naked. And an awful Nearness, shook me.

And Heaven ...! Was that an illusion?

My thoughts came and went, erratically. The Sea of Sleep—and she!
Heaven.... I came back, with a bound, to the present. Somewhere, out of
the void behind me, there rushed an immense, dark body—huge and silent.
It was a dead star, hurling onward to the burying place of the stars. It
drove between me and the Central Suns—blotting them out from my vision,
and plunging me into an impenetrable night.

An age, and I saw again the violet rays. A great while later—aeons it
must have been—a circular glow grew in the sky, ahead, and I saw the
edge of the receding star, show darkly against it. Thus, I knew that it
was nearing the Central Suns. Presently, I saw the bright ring of the
Green Sun, show plainly against the night The star had passed into the
shadow of the Dead Sun. After that, I just waited. The strange years
went slowly, and ever, I watched, intently.

'The thing I had expected, came at last—suddenly, awfully. A vast
flare of dazzling light. A streaming burst of white flame across the
dark void. For an indefinite while, it soared outward—a gigantic
mushroom of fire. It ceased to grow. Then, as time went by, it began to
sink backward, slowly. I saw, now, that it came from a huge, glowing
spot near the center of the Dark Sun. Mighty flames, still soared
outward from this. Yet, spite of its size, the grave of the star was no
more than the shining of Jupiter upon the face of an ocean, when
compared with the inconceivable mass of the Dead Sun.

I may remark here, once more, that no words will ever convey to the
imagination, the enormous bulk of the two Central Suns.

Years melted into the past, centuries, aeons. The light of the
incandescent star, sank to a furious red.

It was later, that I saw the dark nebula—at first, an impalpable
cloud, away to my right. It grew, steadily, to a clot of blackness in
the night. How long I watched, it is impossible to say; for time, as we
count it, was a thing of the past. It came closer, a shapeless
monstrosity of darkness—tremendous. It seemed to slip across the night,
sleepily—a very hell-fog. Slowly, it slid nearer, and passed into the
void, between me and the Central Suns. It was as though a curtain had
been drawn before my vision. A strange tremor of fear took me, and a
fresh sense of wonder.

The green twilight that had reigned for so many millions of years, had
now given place to impenetrable gloom. Motionless, I peered about me. A
century fled, and it seemed to me that I detected occasional dull glows
of red, passing me at intervals.

Earnestly, I gazed, and, presently, seemed to see circular masses, that
showed muddily red, within the clouded blackness. They appeared to be
growing out of the nebulous murk. Awhile, and they became plainer to my
accustomed vision. I could see them, now, with a fair amount of
distinctness—ruddy-tinged spheres, similar, in size, to the luminous
globes that I had seen, so long previously.

They floated past me, continually. Gradually, a peculiar uneasiness
seized me. I became aware of a growing feeling of repugnance and dread.
It was directed against those passing orbs, and seemed born of intuitive
knowledge, rather than of any real cause or reason.

Some of the passing globes were brighter than others; and, it was from
one of these, that a face looked, suddenly. A face, human in its
outline; but so tortured with woe, that I stared, aghast. I had not
thought there was such sorrow, as I saw there. I was conscious of an
added sense of pain, on perceiving that the eyes, which glared so
wildly, were sightless. A while longer, I saw it; then it had passed on,
into the surrounding gloom. After this, I saw others—all wearing that
look of hopeless sorrow; and blind.

A long time went by, and I became aware that I was nearer to the orbs,
than I had been. At this, I grew uneasy; though I was less in fear of
those strange globules, than I had been, before seeing their sorrowful
inhabitants; for sympathy had tempered my fear.

Later, there was no doubt but that I was being carried closer to the
red spheres, and, presently, I floated among them. In awhile, I
perceived one bearing down upon me. I was helpless to move from its
path. In a minute, it seemed, it was upon me, and I was submerged in a
deep red mist. This cleared, and I stared, confusedly, across the
immense breadth of the Plain of Silence. It appeared just as I had first
seen it. I was moving forward, steadily, across its surface. Away ahead,
shone the vast, blood-red ring
^[15]
that lit the place. All around, was
spread the extraordinary desolation of stillness, that had so impressed
me during my previous wanderings across its starkness.

Presently, I saw, rising up into the ruddy gloom, the distant peaks of
the mighty amphitheatre of mountains, where, untold ages before, I had
been shown my first glimpse of the terrors that underlie many things;
and where, vast and silent, watched by a thousand mute gods, stands the
replica of this house of mysteries—this house that I had seen swallowed
up in that hell-fire, ere the earth had kissed the sun, and vanished
for ever.

Though I could see the crests of the mountain-amphitheatre, yet it was
a great while before their lower portions became visible. Possibly, this
was due to the strange, ruddy haze, that seemed to cling to the surface
of the Plain. However, be this as it may, I saw them at last.

In a still further space of time, I had come so close to the mountains,
that they appeared to overhang me. Presently, I saw the great rift, open
before me, and I drifted into it; without volition on my part.