“I thank you!” he said simply,—­“But, ... you, who have such a quick instinctive comprehension of the minds and characters of men,—­judge for yourself whether I attach any value to the poor renown I have won,—­renown that I once would have given my very life to possess!”

As he spoke, he stopped,—­they were walking down a quiet side-path under the wavering shadow of newly bourgeoning beeches, and a bright shaft of sunshine struck through the delicate foliage straight on his serene and handsome countenance.  Heliobas gave him a swift, keen, observant glance,—­in a moment he noticed what a marvellous change had been wrought in the man who, but a few months before, had come to him, a wreck of wasted life,—­a wreck that was not only ready, but willing, to drift into downward currents and whirlpools of desperate, godless, blank, and hopeless misery.  And now, how completely he was transformed!—­Health colored his cheeks and sparkled in his eyes; health, both of body and mind, gave that quick brilliancy to his smile, and that easy, yet powerful poise to his whole figure,—­while the supreme consciousness of the Immortal Spirit within him surrounded him with the same indescribable fascination and magnetic attractiveness that distinguished Heliobas himself, even as it distinguishes all who have in good earnest discovered and accepted the only true explanation of their individual mystery of being.  One steady, flashing look,—­and then Heliobas silently held out his hand.  As silently Alwyn clasped it,—­and the two men understood each other.  All constraint was at an end,—­and when they resumed their slow sauntering under the glistening green branches, they were mutually aware that they now held an almost equal rank in the hierarchy of spiritual knowledge, strength, and sympathy.

“Evidently your adventure to the Ruins of Babylon was not altogether without results!” said Heliobas softly—­“Your appearance indicates happiness,—­is your life at last complete?”

“Complete?—­No!”—­and Alwyn sighed somewhat impatiently—­“It cannot be complete, so long as its best and purest half is elsewhere!  My fame is, as you can guess, a mere ephemera,—­a small vanishing point, in comparison with the higher ambition I have now in view.  Listen,—­you know nothing of what happened to me on the Field of Ardath,—­I should have written to you perhaps, but it is better to speak—­I will tell you all as briefly as I can.”

And talking in an undertone, with his arm linked through that of his companion, he related the whole strange story of the visitation of Edris, the Dream of Al-Kyris, his awakening on the Prophet’s Field at sunrise, and his final renunciation of Self at the Cross of Christ.  Heliobas listened to him in perfect silence, his eyes alone expressing with what eager interest and attention he followed every incident of the narrative.