“IS Miriam safe?” asked Lamara.
“She is safe for the present. But Zarga herself was the traitor,” replied Aunion.
“The fault was mine! She seemed so lovable that I left her too much to her own unfolding. Why should she turn against us? And at such a time!”
“A spirit undisciplined—in whom impulses of nature, blameless in themselves, are prone under temptation to unite with the evil. Torpeon, as we now know, working on the kinship between them, long since began his appeals to her vanity and ambition; and the coming of these two strangers was his opportunity to strike. Miriam for him; Jack, in exchange, for her; and the stimulus of rivalry fired the inclination which she had already conceived for him. But for the warning given us by that singular little being, Jim, the plot would have succeeded; we arrived barely in season; and much mischief was wrought, not easily to be repaired.”
“Where is Jack?”
“His transgression has isolated him; Argon is searching for him, with the more zeal because of his sister’s treason. But we must face the facts: Torpeon’s access to Miriam is easier than it was and more difficult for us to trace and prevent. Zarga, of course, is in hiding, and must be henceforth regarded as Torpeon’s chief fellow conspirator.”
“The strangers have at least one safeguard—they truly love each other!” said Lamara, after a silence.
“Else there were no hope! But the youth is prone to outbursts of lawless passion which the enemy will ever seek to provoke. We cannot constrain—only try to lead him. The conflict must proceed, with the odds on the Torides’s side. Impotent though they are against us, against these two lovers, their arts and strategy are formidable.”
“I believe Zarga can be redeemed!” said Lamara, meeting his eyes and speaking firmly. Aunion sighed. “The constitution of our state is based on love and faith, and for many ages past there has been no provision for treason. Our strength is also our weakness. A thoughtless girl may sap the corner pillar and undo the growth of centuries. ” “If the temple fall, it is that God may build a better!”
Aunion let his gaze wander over the scene around them. They were standing on the rocky promontory of an island near the mainland; the sea was calm and mirrored the great arch of the ring. Groups of heavy-foliaged trees shadowed the soft turf; the music of their leaves mingled with birdsongs; staglike animals moved here and there in the glades, and more rarely other shapes, swift and graceful and semihuman, peeped shyly forth from shade to light. Beyond, above the trees, rose the dome of a summer pavilion. Over all the island passed breathings of wild-flower perfume like fairy music.
“God indeed has enabled us to incarnate the substance of our minds,” Aunion said musingly; “to shape them after our thought and to color them with our emotions. Others painfully toil against the obduracy of things to accomplish what we may do and undo with the flowing of a breath. Their works, rude parodies of even the crude conceptions that inspired them, crumble slowly back into unsightly dust. They have never called upon what is above to interpret what is below; they exalt the slave into the despot, and fight one another for monopoly of what closes life against them and opens death. And yet these blind ones survive, while our Eden may be blighted by the guile of a serpent and a girl’s folly!”
“But these blind ones fight toward the light!” rejoined she, with a touch of reproof in her tone. “Their serpent is ours too, and they, grappling with it in blood and tears, bear our burdens as well as their own. God’s meanings are manifested according to the measure of the eye that sees; but He never misleads! He will not punish the misstep of a child by the banishment of a people!”
“I have perhaps lived too long,” said Aunion sadly. “The inspirations of your heart are more trustworthy than the speculations of my brain. What do you now intend?”
“I shall stay by Miriam and incline her toward the deeper consciousness where Torpeon cannot penetrate. Argon will inform me here of his fortune in the search of Jack.”
“I will hold myself in readiness to aid either of you,” said Aunion; and with a reverent obeisance he parted from her.
Lamara took a path to the pavilion. The island, and all on it, was the place of private retreat for the young sovereign of Saturn, and was guarded by influences framed to repel all unauthorized intruders; only the initiates could enter. Thither, accordingly, Miriam had been conveyed from the scene of the conflict between Jack and the powers swayed by Torpeon. The prompt putting forth of exceptional resources had been required to accomplish this without injury to her; for had her trance been broken before the lapse of its period grave harm might have resulted. The situation, as it now stood, was perplexing; but Lamara felt confident that time and prudence would bring a happy solution. The conspirators had failed of their main object; and it was not to be supposed that Zarga would venture to cooperate in any further designs. Jack, though wofully misled, was still strong in his unalterable fidelity, and he would find redemption at last.
It was the revelation of Zarga’s perfidy that wounded Lamara most. Some rare quality in this girl’s soul had induced Lamara to give her her fullest confidence; her faults had seemed trivial and superficial. A certain adventurous independence of thought sometimes perceptible in her had given Lamara no uneasiness; it was due, she fancied, to the abounding in her of life too vivid to submit unquestioningly to the guidance of an elder experience. There was in the somewhat tumultuous nature of her youth the making of a great and noble character; and Lamara had often forborne reproof in the belief that Zarga’s own afterthought would administer a severer chiding. Yet now she stood convicted of an unpardonable crime.
No human soul, however, could sin beyond the limits of Lamara’s forgiveness. She might have harbored hopes even for Torpeon. And she would not divest herself of the belief that her favorite Zarga would yet repent and make amends.
At the spot on which the pavilion stood a spring gushed out of the ground, the abundant waters of which had been curiously led to run into architectural surfaces and forms—a plastic crystal forever flowing away with a pleasant murmur. The changing lights of day united with it to create continually shifting hues, and the gentle coolness which always reigned in its chambers aided to make it Lamara’s favorite place for rest and meditation.
Here, as being beyond all likelihood of disturbance, she had caused Miriam to be conveyed; no invader from Tor would dare to set foot on any part of the island, still less to violate the sanctities of the pavilion itself. The hour during which the trance prevailed was now for some time passed; but she had wished her visitor to awake alone in the translucent solitude, and to recollect herself under its soothing influence. She had planned that her own approach should take place at a moment when the girl should begin to feel anxiety as to what had befallen her.
Passing the threshold of the edifice she entered a small atrium, opening at the other side into an enclosed court. In the center of this played a fountain, whose upgush assumed successively various forms, treelike, animal or human. Several chambers surrounded the court, and in the central one of these Miriam had been laid.
Stepping lightly and smiling with pleasant anticipation, Lamara advanced to the door of this chamber and looked within. It was empty!
She repressed her first impulse of surprise and uneasiness, telling herself that Miriam must be somewhere in the pavilion; or might, at most, have wandered out along the winding paths that threaded the surrounding coppices and glades. She prosecuted her search with ever-increasing misgiving. The pavilion was untenanted. She came out into the garden, passing hastily through its lovely intricacies, but found no trace of the fugitive. The birds flitted after her with their songs, the fawns gamboled about her, and the shy little nature-people smiled and beckoned to her from nooks and leafy recesses. All things loved Lamara, and she loved all; but the beautiful earth-girl was nowhere to be seen.
Only initiates of the mysteries could either enter or leave the island unaccompanied. Only Aunion and herself had been there that day with Miriam. Yet Miriam had vanished.
What could have happened?