“My Sarthia,” replied the Priestess, “I can not know what they are saying to you, but they do speak to me. They tell me that life is immortal, that the growth and the progress of the soul are eternal, that we may know and read their language while in these bodies if we try; then as we draw nearer and nearer to them, as our souls grow and become familiar with their teachings, we can know them as well, if not better, than our Astrologer Priests do, also as well as your brother Hermo is learning to do.”
“My—brother—Hermo,” and there was a perceptible light of intelligence in the eyes for a moment.
The Priestess was not speaking to the mind, but to the soul, at the same time willing to find a response there. The mere words availed nothing to her, only in so much as they expressed the longings and desires of the interior self.
As Sarthia said no more, the Priestess arose and, moving quietly about the room, gave a few directions and cautions to those in attendance, then presently withdrew.
That night was passed by the Priestess in her own private chamber, not in sleep and rest, but actively and earnestly engaged in silent prayer for her new-born children, Nu-nah, Sarthia and Rathunor.
The morning following the Priestess’ visit to Sarthia’s apartments, she sent a messenger to inquire for the welfare of Princess Nu-nah.
She was reported to have slept well, seemed much stronger, but a peculiar change had taken place during her almost fatal illness. She spoke strangely, almost weirdly at times, which excited much comment and anxiety amongst her immediate friends and relatives.
The Princess had been a general favorite and much admired by those occupying the same station in life with herself; but by those who were subject to her commands and rule, she was looked upon as cold, stern, and heartless, kind in her way when obeyed, but the slightest disobedience brought scornful reproaches and often punishment.
The Priestess, knowing the source of the peculiar change spoken of, felt that all was well. No other attention than the presence of Rathunor was needed. The developed soul of the Vestal Sarthia would soon come into control of the brain she was now trying to find expression through.
Then, too, the organs of the brain that Sarthia’s soul would naturally vibrate, had never become active, nor developed; they, as it were, were dormant, fast asleep, awaiting the pulsating vibrations of the spiritual influx to give them life and usefulness. While those that had been so fully developed in the brain, by the life of the Princess, found no corresponding vibrations from the soul.
Truly, a strange commingling of the two opposing forces, and one in which time was required to bring about perfect adjustment.