And Mine Own then to tell me that they did lack to have any such great
wonders below the Lesser Redoubt; but that there did be utter monstrous
caverns, where that there had been alway a strange and uncouth Country
of Husbandry, and lit from the Earth-Current; and they also there to
bury their Dead. And all had been a-lack through great thousands of
years, as she did know of their Records, and had grown dim-lit and
lonesome, and a Land of deepness to starve the spirit with an utter
strangeness and discomfort, where that the men went quietly as ghosts,
through many ages; and all a place in dire want of sound and laughter. Yet this all to have been surely different a monstrous Age gone, when
that the Earth-Current did be a power in the Lesser Redoubt, and the
Humans to be in plenty, and of good and natural health and courage of
life. And, truly, to mind upon that Place, doth alway to set a fresh
wonder in me, that Mine Own did be so lovely and wholesome of spirit and
wise and in knowledge and good force of her being. But so it did be with
her; and she to have been surely alway That One that did be Mine Own. And I then to tell Mine Own Maid concerning the lowest Field, which did
be the Country of Silence, and was the Place of Memory unto all the
great Millions, where did linger and bide the ghosts of an hundred
billion griefs and the drifted thoughts of sorrowful hearts; and there
to live a great hallowedness and a mystery of silence and an holiness
and a Greatness, as that it did be the Expressing of all that doth be
Noble and Everlasting that ever did come out of the heart of Man and all
the lost Dead of Eternity; so that the spirit of a man did seem to go on
great wings, unto lovely and splendid resolvings, if that he but to walk
lonely awhile in that Country, that surely did be never lonesome unto
the spirit. And lo! the Maid did be all husht, as I did speak, and did look downward
unto me with her eyes very bright, and lovely with the thinkings and
tears that did stir within her. And sudden she to ask whether that I did make my resolve to my journey,
whilst that I walkt in that place; and she to look very intent and
beautiful upon me, as she did question. And, indeed, I saw that she to
mean a lovely praise unto me, as you to perceive; and truly, I did feel
a little strange, as that I did be both glad and shy in the same moment. And she then to ease me of any answer; for she gat upward upon her
knees, and she put her two hands to the sides of my face, and bid me to
look into her eyes and to know that she loved me with her soul and with
all that did make her to be. And afterward, she kist me very gentle upon the forehead, and did be
then husht awhile, as that she to be in thought; yet oft she did look
downward at me, and did have a beauty of love and honour within her
eyes, so that they alway to shine, as she did look at me. And presently, the Maid did sit again beside me, and slipt her two hands
into the one of mine, as did be ever my desire, and she to love that she
give me this delight, and likewise, she to have joy to herself in this
lovingness. And we then again to have talk; and I did tell Mine Own somewhat of the
History of the Olden World! and she did have dim memories, as in dreams,
of the days of light; yet scarce that she could believe it of truth. But
she to have knowledge of the Olden Love Days within her spirit, and to
mind that there did be alway, as it did be, a lovely and golden light
upon the world; but she not to know truly whether this to be but the
holy glamour-light that Memory doth set about a past loveliness; and to
have no remembering of the Sun; but yet to be made ready by her memories
unto believing. And I to know of certainty; but yet even I that do tell
this My Tale, did but perceive the Days of the Light, as in a far and
vague dream; and to remember it but in the chief by the glory of lost
sunsets that had cast an holiness upon my heart, and of the hush of
Dawns that had made ready my spirit in the Gone Ages to look quietly
unto my death. And surely you to go with me in all this thing, and to have felt within
your own spirit that uplifted wonder that doth shake the soul with the
lost Beginning and with the unknown End, when that you have lookt
through the sorrow of the Sunset, and stood silent before the Quiet
Voice that doth make promise in the Dawn. But, in verity, we that had near lost our Memory of the surety of these
great wonders, did have memory of Love; and this to be most beautiful
unto my heart; for it but to show the more how that love doth live
forever, and doth make an holiness in all places; and doth give
Companionship and Satisfying; so that to have love, is to have all, and
to have escaped this Wonder is to have missed to have Lived. And I to find then that Mine Own did have no knowledge of the way that
the World did be in that Future Age; and did lack to know that there
abode mightily above us in the everlasting night, the dead starkness of
the world, where did be--mayhap two hundred great miles above us--snow
and the eternal desolation of a lost world, that did be once the lovely
world of the olden days, which did be now given over unto Night and
Silence. And mayhap there did wander upward there Memory, and did go companioned
by Grief. But, indeed, I to delight to think that Hope and Love did
build houses of joy about the Dead; and there to be no true death; but
only the dying of days. Yet, surely, this doth be sorrow enough unto the
heart and the soul, if that they did be days when love did make a
mystery of light about the spirit, and the Beloved to have been anigh to
make ever a sweet wonder unto the heart. But I to cease from these thoughts; for we to face our life brave and
wise, and to take both the sorrow and the joy unto our developing, and
to hold up the face with courage when that Grief doth come anigh; and to
see that we grow not to bitterness, but unto sweet wholesomeness. And
there to be Joy again, and we then the better abled to have that delight
into our hearts; for how shall Joy ever to come truly again to that
heart which bitterness hath made a place for the abode of sorrow. And truly, I to cease from these thinkings also; for my story to wait
upon me, and these things that I do say do be plain unto you, and to
have no need to the telling. And so did I tell Mine Own Maid of the things that I did learn from the
little metal book; and she to be in a constant wonder and delight and
with an awe and newness upon her. And sudden, there did some olden
memory stir within her; for she askt me, in one instant, whether that I
did remember when that the Cities did move alway unto the Westward.