from which we cannot escape.  Even such a little matter as a kind word is paid back to the one who uttered it with a double interest of kindness, while a cruel or coarse one carries its own punishment.  Those who take without giving are generally unsuccessful in their lives and aims—­while those who give without taking appear to be miraculously served by both fame and fortune,—­this being merely the enactment of the spiritual law.”

“I do not want fame or fortune,”—­I said—­“Love is enough for me!”

Aselzion smiled.

“Enough for you indeed!  My child, it is enough for all!  If you have love, you have entered into the secret mind of God!  Love inspires all nobleness, all endurance, all courage,—­and I think you have some of its attributes, for you have been bold in your first independent essay—­and it is this very boldness that has brought me here to speak to you to-night.  You have, of your own accord, and without preparation, passed what we students and mystics call ’the first circle of fire,’ and you are therefore ready for the rest of your trial.  So I will now take you back to your own room and leave you there, for you must face your ordeal alone.”

My heart sank a little, but I said nothing, and watched him as he took up the crystal globe, full of the darting lines and points of light gleaming like imprisoned fire, and held it for a moment between his two hands.  Then he set it down again, and covered it as it had been covered before.  The next moment he had extinguished the lamp, and we stood together in the pale brilliancy of the moonlight which now spread itself in a broad path of silver across the sea.  The tide was coming in, and I heard the solemn sound of rising waves breaking rhythmically upon the shore.  In silence Aselzion took me by the hand and led me through a low doorway out of the little hermitage into the open air, where we stood within a few feet of the sea.  The moonbeams bathed us in a shower of pearly radiance, and I turned instinctively to look at my companion.  His face appeared transfigured into something of supernatural beauty, and for one second the remembrance of how he had said in the chapel that he carried the burden of seventy years upon him flashed across me with a shock of surprise.  Seventy years!  He appeared to be in the very prime and splendour of life, and the mere idea of age as connected with him was absurd and incongruous.  And while I gazed upon him, wondering and fascinated, he lifted one hand as though in solemn invocation to the stars that gleamed in their countless millions overhead, and his voice, deep and musical, rang out softly yet clearly on the silence:—­

“O Supreme Guide of all the worlds created, accept this Soul which seeks to be consecrated unto Thee!  Help her to attain to all that shall be for her wisdom and betterment, and make her one with that Nature whereof she is born.  Thou, silent and peaceful Night, invest her with thy deep tranquillity!—­thou, bright Moon, penetrate her spirit with the shining in of holy dreams!—­give her of thy strength and depth, O Sea!—­and may she draw from the treasures of the air all health, all beauty, all life, all sweetness, so that her existence may be a joy to the world, and her love a benediction!  Amen!”