The door of the winding stair leading to my room in the turret stood open—­and I availed myself of this tacit permission to return thither.  I found everything as I had left it, except that when I sought for the mysterious little room hung with purple silk, where I had begun to read the book called ‘The Secret of Life,’ a book which through all my strange adventure I still had managed to keep with me, I could not find it.  The walls around me were solid; there was no sign of an opening anywhere.

I sat down by the window to think.  There before my eyes was the sea, calm, and in the full radiance of a brilliant sun.  No mysterious or magic art suggested itself in the visible scene of a smiling summer day.  Had I been long absent from this room, I wondered?  I could not tell.  Time seemed to be annihilated.  And so far as I myself was concerned I desired nothing in this world or the next save just to know if Rafel Santoris still lived—­and—­yes!—­one other assurance—­ to feel that I still possessed the treasure of his love.  All the past, present and future hung on this possibility,—­there was nothing more to hope for or to attain.  For if I had lost Love, then God Himself could give me no comfort, since the essential link with Divine things was broken.

Gradually a great and soothing quietude stole over me and the cloud of depression that had hung over my mind began to clear.  I thought of my recent experience with the man and woman who had sought to ‘rescue’ me, as they said, and how when in sheer desperation I had called “Rafel!  Rafel!” they had suddenly disappeared and left me free.  Surely this was a sufficient proof that I was not forgotten by him who had professed to love me?—­and that his aid might still be depended upon?  Why should I doubt him?

I had placed my book, ‘The Secret of Life,’ on the table when I re-entered my room—­but now I took it up again, and the pages fell open at the following passage:—­

“When once you possess the inestimable treasure of love, remember that every effort will be made to snatch it from you.  There is nothing the world envies so much as a happy soul!  Those who have been your dearest friends will turn against you because you have a joy in which they do not share,—­they will unite with your foes to drag you down from your height of Paradise.  The powers of the coarse and commonplace will be arrayed against you—­shafts of disdain and ridicule will be hurled at your tenderest feelings,—­venomous lies and cruel calumnies will be circulated around you,—­all to try and draw you from the circle of light into darkness and chaos.  If you would stand firm, you must stand within the whirlwind; if you would maintain the centre-poise of your Soul, you must preserve the balance of movement,—­the radiant and deathless atoms whereof your Body and Spirit are composed must be under steady control and complete organisation like a well disciplined army, otherwise the disintegrating