and separate action.  The greater number prefer to be nothings in this way, though they cannot escape the universal grinding mill,—­they must be used for some purpose in the end, be they never so reluctant.  Therefore, we, who study the latent powers of man, judge it wiser to meet and accept our destiny rather than fall back in the race and allow destiny to overtake us and whip us into place with rods of sharp experience.  If there is anyone here present who now desires to speak,—­to ask a question,—­or deny a statement, let him come forward boldly and say what he has to say without fear.”

As he thus spoke, I, looking from my little hidden recess, saw a movement among the seated brethren; one of them rose and descending from his place, walked slowly towards Aselzion till he was within a few paces of him—­then he paused, and threw back his cowl, showing a worn handsome face on which some great sorrow seemed to be marked too strongly to be ever erased.

“I do not wish to live!”—­he said—­“I came here to study life, but not to learn how to keep it.  I would lose it gladly for the merest trifle!  For life is to me a bitter thing—­a hideous and inexplicable torment!  Why should you, O Aselzion, teach us how to live long?  Why not rather teach us how to die soon?”

Aselzion’s eyes were bent upon him with a grave and tender compassion.

“What accusation do you bring against life?” he asked—­“How has life wronged you?”

“How has life wronged me?” and the unhappy man threw up his hands with a gesture of desperation—­“You, who profess to read thought and gauge the soul, can you ask?  How has life wronged me?  By sheer injustice!  From my first breath—­for I never asked to be born!—­from my early days when all my youthful dreams and aspirations were checked, smothered and killed by loving parents!—­loving parents, forsooth!—­whose idea of ‘love’ was money!  Every great ambition frustrated—­every higher hope slain!—­and in my own love—­that love of woman which is man’s chief curse—­even she was false and worthless as a spurious coin—­caring nothing whether my life was saved or ruined—­it was ruined, of course!—­but what matter?—­who need care!  Only the weariness of it all!—­the day after day burden of time!—­the longing to lie down and hide beneath the comfortable grass in peace,—­where no false friend, no treacherous love, no ‘kind’ acquaintances, glad to see me suffer, can ever point their mocking hands or round their cruel eyes at me again!  Aselzion, if the God you serve is half as wicked as the men He made, then Heaven itself is Hell!”

He spoke deliberately, yet with passion.  Aselzion silently regarded him.  The fiery Cross and Star blazed with strange colours like millions of jewels, and the deep stillness in the chapel was for many minutes unbroken.  All at once, as though impelled by some irresistible force, he sank on his knees.

“Aselzion!  As you are strong, have patience with the weak!  As you see the Divine, pity those who are blind!  As you stand firm, stretch a hand to those whose feet are on the shifting quicksands, and if death and oblivion are among the gifts of your bestowal, withhold them not from me, for I would rather die than live!”