a journey in other worlds-第50部分

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every　evil　deed　and　every　idle　word　God　will　bring　us　into
judgment。　　The　angel　of　death　is　among　you　and　at　work　in　your
very　midst。　　Are　you　prepared　to　receive　him？　　He　has　already
killed　my　body；　and　now　that　I　can　never　die　I　wish　there　was　a
grave　for　my　soul。　　I　was　reassured　by　a　vision　that　told　me　I
was　safe；　but　either　it　was　a　hallucination；　or　I　have　been
betrayed　by　some　spirit。　　Last　night　I　still　lived；　and　my　body
obeyed　my　will。　　Since　then　I　have　experienced　death；　and　with
the　resulting　increased　knowledge　comes　the　loss　of　all　hope；
with　keener　pangs　than　I　supposed　could　exist。　　Oh；　that　I　had
now　their　opportunities；　that　I　might　write　a　thesis　that　should
live　forever；　and　save　millions　of　souls　from　the　anguish　of
mine！　　Inoculate　your　mortal　bodies　with　the　germs　of　faith　and
mutual　love；　in　a　stronger　degree　than　they　dwelt　in　me；　lest　you
lose　the　life　above。〃
　　　
But　no　one　heard　him；　and　he　preached　in　vain。
　　　
He　again　rushed　forth；　and；　after　a　half…involuntary　effort；
found　himself　in　the　street　before　his　loved　one's　home。　
Scarcely　knowing　why；　except　that　it　had　become　nature　to　wish　to
be　near　her；　he　stood　for　a　long　time　opposite　her　dwelling。
　　　
〃O　house！〃　he　cried；　〃inanimate　object　that　can　yet　enthral　me
so；　I　stand　before　your　cold　front　as　a　suppliant　from　a　very
distant　realm；　yet　in　my　sadness　I　am　colder　than　your　stones；
more　alone　than　in　a　desolate　place。　　She　that　dwells　within　you
holds　my　love。　　I　long　for　her　shadow　or　the　sound　of　her　step。　
I　am　more　wretchedly　in　love　than　everI；　an　impotent；　invisible
spirit。　　Must　I　bear　this　sorrow　in　addition　to　my　others；　in　my
fruitless　search　for　rest？　　My　life　will　be　a　waking　nightmare；
most　bitter　irony　of　fate。〃
　　
The　trees　swayed　above　his　head；　and　the　moon；　in　its　last
quarter；　looked　dreamily　at　him。
　　　
〃Ah；〃　thought　Ayrault；　〃could　I　but　sleep　and　be　happy！　
Drowsiness　and　weariness；　fatigue's　grasp　is　on　me；　or　may
Sylvia's　nearness　soothe；　as　her　voice　has　brought　me　calm！　
Quiet　I　may　some　day　enjoy；　but　slumber　again；　never！　　I　see　that
souls　in　hades　must　ever　have　their　misdeeds　before　them。　　Happy
man　in　this　world；　the　repentant's　sins　are　forgiven！　　You　lose
your　care　in　sleep。　　Somnolence　and　drowsinessbalm　of　aching
hearts；　angels　of　mercy！　　Mortals；　how　blessed！　until　you　die；
God　sends　you　this　rest。　　When　I　recall　summer　evenings　with
Sylvia；　while　gentle　zephyrs　fanned　our　brows；　I　would　change
Pope's　famous　line　to　'Man　never　is；　but　always　HAS　BEEN
blessed。'〃
　　　
A　clock　in　a　church…steeple　now　struck　three；　the　sound　ringing
through　the　still　night　air。
　　　
〃It　will　soon　be　time　for　ghosts　to　go；〃　thought　Ayrault。　　〃I
must　not　haunt　her　dwelling。〃
　　　
There　was　a　light　in　Sylvia's　study；　and　Ayrault　remained
meditatively　gazing　at　it。
　　　
〃Happy　lamp；〃　he　thought；　〃to　shed　your　light　on　one　so　fair！　
She　can　see　you；　and　you　shine；　for　her。　　You　are　better　off　than
I。　　Would　that　her　soul　might　shine　for　me；　as　your　light　shines
for　her！　　The　light　of　my　life　has　departed。　　O　that　the　darkness
were　complete！　　I　am　dead；〃　his　thoughts　ran　on；　and　when　the
privilege　bitter　word！that　permits　me　to　remain　here　has
expired；　I　must　doubtless　return　to　Saturn；　and　there　in
purgatory　work　out　my　probation。　　But　what　comfort　is　it　that　a
few　centuries　hence　I　may　be　able　to　revisit　my　native　earth？

　　　　　　　The　flowers　will　bloom　in　the　morning　light；
　　　　　　　　　　　And　the　lark　salute　the　sun；
　　　　　　　The　earth　will　continue　to　roll　through　space；
　　　　　　　And　I　may　be　nearer　my　final　grace；
　　　　　　　　　　　But　Sylvia's　life…thread　will　be　spun。


〃Even　Sylvia's　house　will　be　a　heap　of　ruins；　or　its　place　will
be　taken　by　something　else。　　If　I　had　Sylvia；　I　should　care　for
nothing；　as　I　have　lost　her；　even　this　sight；　though　sweet；　must
always　bring　regret。　　I　wish；　at　all　events；　I　might　see　Sylvia；
if　only　with　these　spirit…eyes；　since；　as　a　mortal；　she　may　never
gladden　my　sight　again。〃
　　　
To　his　surprise；　he　now　perceived　that　he　could　see；
notwithstanding　the　drawn　shades。　　Sylvia　was　at　her
writing…desk；　in　a　light…coloured　wrapper。　　She　sat　there　resting
her　head　on　her　hand；　looking　thoughtful　but　worried。　　Though　it
was　so　late；　she　had　not　retired。　　The　thrush　that　Ayrault　had
often　in　life　admired；　and　that　she　had　for　some　reason　brought
up…stairs；　was　silent　and　asleep。
　　　
〃Happy　bird！〃　he　said；　〃you　obtain　rest　and　forgetfulness　on
covering　your　head；　but　what　wing　can　cover　my　soul？　　I　used　to
wish　I　might　flutter　towards　heaven　on　natural　wings　like　you；
little　thrush。　　Now　I　can；　indeed；　outfly　you。　　But　whatever　I　do
I'm　unhappy；　and　wherever　I　go　I'm　in　hell。　　What　is　man　in　his
helpless；　first　spiritual　state？　　He　is　but　a　flower；　and　withers
soon。　　Had　I；　like　the　bishop；　been　less　blind；　and　obeyed　my
conscience　clear；　I　might　have　returned　to　my　native　earth　while
Sylvia　still　sojourns　here；　and　coming　thus　by　virtue　of
development；　I　should　be　able　to　commune　with　her。
　　　
〃What　is　life？〃　he　continued。　　〃In　the　retrospect；　nothing。　　It
seems　to　me　already　as　but　an　infinitesimal　point。　　Things　that
engrossed　me；　and　seemed　of　such　moment；　that　overshadowed　the
duty　of　obeying　my　consciencewhat　were　they；　and　where？　　Ah；
where？　　They　endured　but　a　moment。　　Reality　and　evanescence
evanescence　and　reality。〃
　　　
The　light　in　Sylvia's　room　was　out　now；　and　in　the　east　he　beheld
the　dawn。　　The　ubiquitous　grey　which　he　saw　at　night　was　invaded
by　streams　of　glorious　crimson　and　blue　that　reached　far　up　into
the　sky。　　He　gazed　at　the　spectacle；　and　then　once　more　at　that
house　in　which　his　love　was　centred。
　　　
〃Would　I　might　be　her　guardian　angel；　to　guide　her　in　the　right
and　keep　her　from　all　harm！　　Sleep　on；　Sylvia。　　Sweet　one；　sleep。　
Yon　stars　fade　beside　your　eyes。　　Your　thoughts　and　your　soul　are
fairer　far　than　the　east　in　this　day's　sunrise。　　I　know　what　I
have　lost。　　Ah；　desolating　knowledge！　for　I　have　read　Sylvia's
heart；　and　know　I　was　loved　as　truly　as　I　loved。　　When　Bearwarden
and　Cortlandt　break　her　the　newsah；　God！　will　she　live；　and　do
they　yet　know　I　am　dead？〃
　　　
Again　came　that　spasm　to　shed　spirit　tears；　and　had　he　not　known
it　impossible　he　would　have　thought　his　heart　must　break。
　　　
The　birds　twittered；　and　the　light　grew；　but　Ayrault　lay　with　his
face　upon　the　ground。　　Finally　the　spirit　of　unrest　drove　him　on。　
He　passed　the　barred　door　of　his　own　house；　through　which　he　had
entered　so　often。　　It　was　unchanged；　but　seemed　deserted。　　Next；
he　went　to　the　water…front；　where　he　had　left　his　yacht。　
Invisibly　and　sadly　he　stood　upon　her　upper　deck；　and　gazed　at
the　levers；　in　response　to　his　touch　on　which　the　craft　had　cleft
the　waves；　reversed；　or　turned　like　a　thing　of　life。
　　
〃'Twas　a　pretty　toy；〃　he　mused；　〃and　many　hours　of　joy　have　I　had
as　I　floated　through　life　on　board　of　her。〃
　　　
As　he　moped　along　he　beheld　two　unkempt　Italians　having　a
piano…organ　and　a　violin。　　The　music　was　not　fine；　but　it　touched
a　chord　in　Ayrault's　breast；　for　he　had　waltzed　with　Sylvia　to
that　air；　and　it　made　his　heart　ache。
　　　
〃Oh；　the　acuteness　of　my　distress；〃　he　cried；　〃the　utter　depth　of
my　sorrow！　　Can　I　have　no　peace　in　death；　no　oblivion　in　the
grave？　　I　am　reminded　of　my　blighted；　hopeless　love　in　all　kinds
of　unexpected　ways；　by　unforeseen　trifles。　　Oh；　would　I　might；
indeed；　die！　　May　obliteration　be　my　deliverer！〃
　　　
〃Poor　fellows；〃　he　continued；　glancing　at　the　Italians；　for　he
perceived　that　neither　of　the　players　was　happy；　the　pianist　was
avaricious；　while　the　violinist's　natural　and　habitual　jealousy
destroyed　his　peace　of　mind。
　　　
〃Unhappiness　seems　the　common　lot；〃　thought　Ayrault。　　〃Earth
cannot　give　that　joy　for　which　we　sigh。　　Poor　fellows！　though　you
rack　my　ears　and　distress　my　heart；　I　cannot　help　you　now。〃　



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　CHAPTER　XIII。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　THE　PRIEST'S　SERMON。

It　being　the　first　day　of　the　week；　the　morning　air　was　filled
with　chimes　from　many　steeples。
　　　
〃Divine　service　always　comforted　in　life；〃　thought　Ayrault；
〃perchance　it　may　do　so　now；　when　I　have　reached　the　state　for
which　it　tried　to　prepare　me。〃
　　　
Accordingly；　he　moved　on　with　the　throng；　and　soon　was　ascending
the　heights　of　Morningside　Park；　after　which；　he　entered　the
cathedral。　　The　priest　whose　voice　had　so　often　thrilled　him
stood　at　his　post　in　his　surplice；　and　the　choir　had　finished　the
processional　hymn。　　During　the　responses　in　the　litany；　and
between　the　commandments；　while　the　congregation　and　the　choir
sang；　he　heard　their　natural　voices　as　of　old　ascending　to　the
vaulted　roof　and　arrested　there。　　He　now　also　heard　their
spiritual　voices　resulting　from　the　earnestness　of　their　prayers。　
These　were　rung　through　the　vaster　vault　of　space；　arousing　a
spiritual　echo　beyond　the　constellations　and　the　nebulae。　　The
service；　which　was　that　of　the　Protestant　Episcopal　Church；
touched　him　as　deeply　as　usual；　after　which　the　rector　ascended
the　steps　to　the　pulpit。
　　　
〃The　text；　this　morning；〃　he　began；　〃is　from　the　eighth　chapter
of　St。　Paul's　Epistle　to　the　Romans；　at　the　eighteenth　verse：　
'For　I　reckon　that　the　sufferings　of　this　present　time　are　not
worthy　to　be　compared　to　the　glory　that　shall　be　revealed　in　us。'　
Let　us　suppose　that　you　or　I；　brethren；　should　become　a　free　and
disembodied　spirit。　　A　minute　vein　in　the　brain　bursts；　or　a　clot
forms　in　the　heart。　　It　may　be　a　mere　trifle；　some　unexpected
thing；　yet　the　career　in　the　flesh　is　ended；　the　eternal　life　of
the　liberated　spirit　begun。　　The　soul　slips　from　earth's　grasp；
as　air　from　our　fingers；　and　finds　itself　in　the　frigid；
boundless　void　of　space。　　Yet；　through　some　longing　this　soul
might　rejoin　us；　and；　though　invisible；　might　hear　the
church…bells　ring；　and　long　to　recall　some　one　of　the　many　bright
Sunday　mornings　spent　here　on　earth。　　Has　a　direful　misfortune
befallen　this　brother；　or　has　a　slave　been　set　free？　　Let　us
suppose　for　a　moment　that　the　first　has　occurred。　　'Vanity　of
vanities；'　said　the　old　preacher。　　'Calamity　of　calamities；'　says
the　new。　　That　soul's　probationary　period　is　ended；　his　re