“These were—­and are—­men!”—­he continued—­“And you—­a woman—­would boldly attempt the adventures in which they failed!  Think for a moment how weak and ignorant and all unprepared you are!  When you first began your psychic studies with a Teacher whom we both loved and honoured—­one whom you knew by the name of Heliobas—­you had scarcely lived at all in the world;—­since then you have worked hard and done much, but in your close application to the conquest of difficulties you have missed many things by the way.  I give you credit for patience and faith—­these have accomplished much for you--and now you are at a crucial point in your career when your Will, like the rudder of a ship, trembles in your hand, and you are plunging into unknown further deeps where there may be storm and darkness.  There is danger ahead for any doubting, proud, or rebellious soul,—­it is but fair to warn you!”

“I am not afraid!” I said, in a low tone—­“I can but die!”

“Child, that is just what you cannot do!  Grasp that fact firmly at once and for ever!  You cannot die,—­there is no such thing as death!  If you could die and have done with all duties, cares, perplexities and struggles altogether, the eternal problem would be greatly simplified.  But the idea of death is only one of a million human delusions.  Death is an impossibility in the scheme of Life—­what is called by that name is merely a shifting and re-investiture of imperishable atoms.  The endless varying forms of this shifting and re-investiture of atoms is the secret we and our students have set ourselves to master—­and some of us have mastered it sufficiently to control both the matter and spirit whereof we are made.  But the way of learning is not an easy way—­Rafel Santoris himself could have told you that he was all but overcome in the trial—­for I spare no one!—­and if you persist in your rash intention I cannot spare you simply because of your sex.”

“I do not ask to be spared,”—­I said, gently—­“I have already told you I will endure anything.”

A slight smile crossed his face.

“So you will, I believe!” he answered—­“In the old days I can well understand your enduring martyrdom!  I can see you facing lions in the Roman arena,”—­as he thus spoke I started, and the warm blood rushed to my cheeks—­“rather than not carry out your own fixed resolve, whether such resolve was right or wrong!  I can see you preparing to drown yourself in the waters of the Nile rather than break through man’s stupid superstition and convention!  Why do you look so amazed?  Am I touching on some old memory?  Come, let us leave these black embers of coward mortality and return to the more cheerful room.”

We re-entered the library together, and he seated himself again at his desk, turning towards me with an air of settled and impressive authority.