THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES IN SIMILAR FORM 16mo, Boards, net 50c. Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews The Perfect Tribute The Lifted Bandage The Courage of the Commonplace The Counsel Assigned Old Glory Maltbie Davenport Babcock The Success of Defeat Katharine Holland Brown The Messenger Richard Harding Davis The Consul The Boy Scout Marion Harland Looking Westward Robert Herrick The Master of the Inn The Conscript Mother Frederick Landis The Angel of Lonesome Hill Francis E. Leupp A Day with Father Alice Duer Miller Things Thomas Nelson Page The Stranger's Pew The Shepherd Who Watched by Night Robert Louis Stevenson A Christmas Sermon Prayers Written at Vailima js Triplex Father Damien laobel Strong Robert Louis Stevenson Henry van Dyke. The School of Life The Spirit of Christmas The Sad Shepherd The First Christmas Tree The Lost Word THE LOST WORD OF CAtlF. LIBRARY. I-OS 'TAKE THIS TO JOHN OF ANTIOCH, AND TELI, HIM IT IS A GIFT FROM HIS FORMER PUPIL." THE LOST WORD A CHRISTMAS LEGEND OF LONG AGO BY HENRY VAN DYKE NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1917 Copyright, 1898, by Charles Scribners Sons V3U DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND HAMILTON W. MABIE 21334B8 CONTENTS PAGE 7. The Poverty of Hermas . . 1 II. A Christmas Loss .... 23 777. Parting, but no Farewell . . 37 IV. Love in Search of a Word . 47 V. Riches without Rest ... 65 VI. Great Fear and Recovered Joy 77 I THE POVERTY OF HERMAS "CoME down, Hernias, come down ! The night is past. It is time to be stirring. Christ is born to-day. Peace be with you in His name. Make haste and come down!" A little group of young men were standing in a street of Antioch, in the dusk of early morning, fifteen hundred years ago. It was a class of candidates who had nearly finished their two years of training for the Christian church. They had come to call their fellow-student Hernias from his lodging. Their voices rang out cheerily through the cool air. They were full of that glad sense of life which the THE LOST WORD young feel when they awake and come to rouse one who is still sleep- ing. There was a note of friendly triumph in their call, as if they were exulting unconsciously in having be- gun the adventure of the new day before their comrade. But Hernias was not asleep. He had been waking for hours, and the dark walls of his narrow lodging had been a prison to his restless heart. A nameless sorrow and discontent had fallen upon him, and he could find no escape from the heaviness of his own thoughts. There is a sadness of youth into which the old cannot enter. It seems to them unreal and causeless. But it is even more bitter and burdensome than the sadness of age. There is a sting of resentment in it, a fever of 4 THE POVERTY OF HERMAS angry surprise that the world should so soon be a disappointment, and life so early take on the look of a failure. It has little reason in it, perhaps, but it has all the more weariness and gloom, because the man \vho is oppressed by it feels dimly that it is an unnatural and an unreasonable thing, that he should be separated from the joy of his companions, and tired of living be- fore he has fairly begun to live. Hernias had fallen into the very depths of this strange self-pity. He was out of tune with everything around him. He had been thinking, through the dead, still night, of all that he had given up when he left the house of his father, the wealthy pagan Demetrius, to join the com- pany of the Christians. Only two 5 THE LOST WORD years ago he had been one of the richest young men in Antioch. Now he was one of the poorest. And the worst of it was that, though he had made the choice willingly and ac- cepted the sacrifice with a kind of enthusiasm, he was already dissatis- fied with it. The new life was no happier than the old. He was weary of vigils and fasts, weary of studies and penances, weary of prayers and sermons. He felt like a slave in a treadmill. He knew that he must go on. His honour, his conscience, his sense of duty, bound him. He could not go back to the old careless pagan life again; for something had happened within him which made a return im- possible. Doubtless he had found the true religion, but he had found it THE POVERTY OF HERMAS only as a task and a burden; its joy and peace had slipped away from him. He felt disillusioned and robbed. He sat beside his hard little couch, waiting without expectancy for the gray dawn of another empty day, and hardly lifting his head at the shouts of his friends. "Come down, Hernias, you slug- gard ! Come down ! It is Christmas morn. Awake and be glad with us !" "I am coming," he answered list- lessly; "only have patience a mo- ment. I have been awake since mid- night, and waiting for the day." "You hear him!" said his friends one to another. "How he puts us all to shame ! He is more watchful, more eager, than any of us. Our master, John the Presbyter, does well to be 7 THE LOST WORD proud of him. He is the best man in our class. When he is baptized the church will get a strong member." While they were talking the door opened and Hernias stepped out. He was a figure to be remarked in any company tall, broad-shoul- dered, straight-hipped, with a head proudly poised on the firm column of the neck, and short brown curls clustering over the square forehead. It was the perpetual type of vigour- ous and intelligent young manhood, such as may be found in every cen- tury among the throngs of ordinary men, as if to show what the flower of the race should be. But the light in his dark blue eyes was clouded and uncertain; his smooth cheeks were leaner than they should have been at twenty; and there were THE POVERTY OF HERMAS downward lines about his mouth which spoke of desires unsatisfied and ambitions repressed. He joined his companions with brief greetings, a nod to one, a word to another, and they passed together down the steep street. Overhead the mystery of daybreak was silently transfiguring the sky. The curtain of darkness had lifted softly upward along the edge of the horizon. The ragged crests of Mount Silpius were outlined with pale rosy light. In the central vault of heaven a few large stars twinkled drowsily. The great city, still chiefly pagan, lay more than half asleep. But mul- titudes of the Christians, dressed in white and carrying lighted torches in their hands, were hurrying toward the Basilica of Constantine to keep THE LOST WORD the latest holy day of the church, the new festival of the birthday of their Master. The vast, bare building was soon crowded, and the younger converts, who were not yet permitted to stand among the baptized, found it diffi- cult to come to their appointed place between the first two pillars of the house, just within the threshold. There was some good-humoured pressing and jostling about the door; but the candidates pushed steadily forward. "By your leave, friends, our station is beyond you. Will you let us pass ? Many thanks." A touch here, a courteous nod there, a little patience, a little per- sistence, and at last they stood in their place. Hernias was taller than 10 THE POVERTY OF HERMAS his companions; he could look easily over their heads and survey the white sea of people stretching away through the columns, under the shadows of the high roof, as the tide spreads on a calm day into the pillared cavern of Staffa, quiet as if the ocean hardly dared to breathe. The light of many flambeaux fell, in flickering, uncer- tain rays, over the assembly. At the end of the vista there was a circle of clearer, steadier radiance. Hernias could see the bishop in his great chair, surrounded by the presbyters, the lofty desks on either side for the readers of the Scripture, the com- munion-table and the table of offer- ings in the middle of the church. The call to prayer sounded down the long aisle. Thousands of hands were joyously lifted in the air, as if 11 THE LOST WORD the sea had blossomed into waving lilies, and the "Amen" was like the murmur of countless ripples in an echoing place. Then the singing began, led by the choir of a hundred trained voices which the Bishop Paul had founded in Antioch. Timidly, at first, the music felt its way, as the people joined with a broken and uncertain cadence, the mingling of many little waves not yet gathered into rhythm and harmony. Soon the longer, stronger billows of song rolled in, sweeping from side to side as the men and the women answered in the clear antiphony. Hernias had often been carried on those " Tides of music's golden sea Setting toward eternity." 12 THE POVERTY OF HERMAS But to-day his heart was a rock that stood motionless. The flood passed by and left him unmoved. Looking out from his place at the foot of the pillar, he saw a man standing far off in the lofty bema. Short and slender, wasted by sick- ness, gray before his time, with pale cheeks and wrinkled brow, he seemed at first like a person of no significance a reed shaken in the wind. But there was a look in his deep-set, poignant eyes, as he gathered all the glances of the multitude to himself, that belied his mean appearance and prophesied power. Hernias knew very well who it was: the man who had drawn him from his father's house, the teacher who was instructing him as a son in the Christian faith, the guide and trainer of his soul John 13 THE LOST WORD of Antioch, whose fame filled the city and began to overflow Asia, and who was called already Chrysostom, the golden-mouthed preacher. i Hernias had felt the magic of hir^ eloquence many a time; and to-day, as the tense voice vibrated through the stillness, and the sentences moved onward, growing fuller and stronger, bearing argosies of costly rhetoric and treasures of homely speech in their bosom, and drawing the hearts of men with a resistless magic, Hernias knew that the preacher had never been more potent, more in- spired. He played on that immense con- gregation as a master on an instru- ment. He rebuked their sins, and they trembled. He touched their sor- rows, and they wept. He spoke of 14 THE POVERTY OF HERMAS the conflicts, the triumphs, the glories of their faith, and they broke out in thunders of applause. He hushed them into reverent silence, and led tl em tenderly, with the wise men of the East, to the lowly birthplace of Jesus. ' "Do thou, therefore, likewise leave the Jewish people, the troubled city, the blood-thirsty tyrant, the pomp of the world, and hasten to Bethle- hem, the sweet house of spiritual bread. For though thou be but a shepherd, and come hither, thou shall behold Ihe young Child in an inn. Though thou be a king, and come not hilher, thy purple robe shall profit thee nothing. Though thou be one of the wise men, this shall be no hindrance lo thee. Only let thy com- ing be to honour and adore, with 15 THE LOST WORD trembling joy, the Son of God, to whose name be glory, on this His birthday, and forever and forever." The soul of Hernias did not answer to the musician's touch. The strings of his heart were slack and soundless; there was no response within him. He was neither shepherd, nor king, nor wise man; only an unhappy, dis- satisfied, questioning youth. He was out of sympathy with the eager preacher, the joyous hearers. In their harmony he had no part. Was it for this that he had forsaken his inheritance and narrowed his life to poverty and hardship? What was it all worth? The gracious prayers with which the young converts were blessed and dismissed before the sacrament sounded hollow in his ears. Never 16 THE POVERTY OF HERMAS had he felt so utterly lonely as in that praying throng. He went out with his companions like a man de- parting from a banquet where all but he had been fed. "Farewell, Hernias," they cried, as he turned from them at the door. But he did not look back, nor wave his hand. He was alone already in his heart. When he entered the broad Avenue of the Colonnades, the sun had already topped the eastern hills, and the ruddy light was streaming through the long double row of archways and over the pavements of crimson marble. But Hernias turned his back to the morning, and walked with his shadow before him. The street began to swarm and 17 THE LOST WORD whirl and quiver with the motley life of a huge city: beggars and jug- glers, dancers and musicians, gilded youths in their chariots, and daugh- ters of joy looking out from their windows, all intoxicated with the mere delight of living and the glad- ness of a new day. The pagan popu- lace of Antioch reckless, pleasure- loving, spendthrift were preparing for the Saturnalia. But all this Hernias had renounced. He cleft his way through the crowd slowly, like a reluctant swimmer weary of breast- ing the tide. At the corner of the street where the narrow, populous Lane of the Camel-drivers crossed the Colon- nades, a story-teller had bewitched a circle of people around him. It was the same old tale of love and adven- 18 THE POVERTY OF HERMAS ture that many generations have lis- tened to; but the lively fancy of the hearers lent it new interest, and the wit of the improviser drew forth sighs of interest and shouts of laugh- ter. A yellow-haired girl on the edge of the throng turned, as Hernias passed, and smiled in his face. She put out her hand and caught him by the sleeve. "Stay," she said, "and laugh a bit with us. I know who you are the son of Demetrius. You must have bags of gold. Why do you look so black? Love is alive yet." Hernias shook off her hand, but not ungently. "I don't know what you mean," he said. "You are mistaken in me. I am poorer than you are." 19 THE LOST WORD But as he passed on, he felt the warm touch of her fingers through the cloth on his arm. It seemed as if she had plucked him by the heart. He went out by the Western Gate, under the golden cherubim that the Emperor Titus had stolen from the ruined Temple of Jerusalem and fixed upon the arch of triumph. He turned to the left, and climbed the hill to the road that led to the Grove of Daphne. In all the world there was no other highway as beautiful. It wound for five miles along the foot of the mountains, among gardens and villas, plantations of myrtles and mul- berries, with wide outlooks over the valley of Orontes and the distant, shimmering sea. The richest of all the dwellings was THE POVERTY OF HERMAS the House of the Golden Pillars, the mansion of Demetrius. He had won the favour of the apostate Emperor Julian, whose vain efforts to restore the worship of the heathen gods, some twenty years ago, had opened an easy way to wealth and power for all who would mock and oppose Christianity. Demetrius was not a sincere fanatic like his royal master; but he was bitter enough in his pro- fessed scorn of the new religion, to make him a favourite at the court where the old religion was in fashion. He had reaped a rich reward of his policy, and a strange sense of con- sistency made him more fiercely loyal to it than if it had been a real faith. He was proud of being called "the friend of Julian"; and when his son joined himself to the Christians, 21 THE LOST WORD and acknowledged the unseen God, it seemed like an insult to his father's success. He drove the boy from his door and disinherited him. The glittering portico of the serene, haughty house, the repose of the well-ordered garden, still blooming with belated flowers, seemed at once to deride and to invite the young outcast plodding along the dusty road. "This is your birthright," whispered the clambering rose-trees by the gate; and the closed portals of carven bronze said: "You have sold it for a thought a dream." II A CHRISTMAS LOSS n HERMAS found the Grove of Daphne quite deserted. There was no sound in the enchanted vale but the rus- tling of the light winds chasing each other through the laurel thickets, and the babble of innumerable streams. Memories of the days and nights of delicate pleasure that the grove had often seen still haunted the bewil- dered paths and broken fountains. At the foot of a rocky eminence, 1 crowned with the ruins of Apollo's temple, which had been mysteriously destroyed by fire just after Julian had restored and reconsecrated it, Hermas sat down beside a gushing spring, and gave himself up to sad- ness. 25 THE LOST WORD "How beautiful the world would be, how joyful, how easy to live in, without religion ! These questions about unseen things, perhaps about unreal things, these restraints and duties and sacrifices if I were only free from them all, and could only forget them all, then I could live my life as I pleased, and be happy." "Why not?" said a quiet voice at his back. He turned, and saw an old man with a long beard and a threadbare cloak (the garb affected by the pagan phi- losophers) standing behind him and smiling curiously. "How is it that you answer that which has not been spoken?" said Hernias; "and who are you that honour me with your company?" "Forgive the intrusion," answered 26 A CHRISTMAS LOSS the stranger; "it is not ill meant. A friendly interest is as good as an in- troduction." "But to what singular circumstance do I owe this interest?" "To your face," said the old man, with a courteous inclination. "Per- haps also a little to the fact that I am the oldest inhabitant here, and feel as if all visitors were my guests, in a way." "Are you, then, one of the keepers of the grove? And have you given up your work with the trees to take a holiday as a philosopher?" "Not at all. The robe of philosophy is a mere affectation, I must confess. I think little of it. My profession is the care of altars. In fact, I am that solitary priest of Apollo whom the Emperor Julian found here when he 27 THE LOST WORD came to revive the worship of the grove, some twenty years ago. You have heard of the incident?" "Yes," said Hernias, beginning to be interested; "the whole city must have heard of it, for it is still talked of. But surely it was a strange sac- rifice that you brought to celebrate the restoration of Apollo's temple?" "You mean the goose? Well, per- haps it was not precisely what the emperor expected. But it was all that I had, and it seemed to me not inappropriate. You will agree to that if you are a Christian, as I guess from your dress." "You speak lightly for a priest of Apollo." "Oh, as for that, I am no bigot. The priesthood is a professional mat- ter, and the name of Apollo is as 28 A CHRISTMAS LOSS good as any other. How many altars do you think there have been in this ?9 w "I do not know." "Just four-and-twenty, including that of the martyr Babylas, whose ruined chapel you see just beyond us. I have had something to do with most of them in my time. They are transitory. They give employment to care-takers for a while. But the thing that lasts, and the thing that interests me, is the human life that plays around them. The game has been going on for centuries. It still disports itself very pleasantly on summer evenings through these shady walks. Believe me, for I know. Daphne and Apollo were shadows. But the flying maidens and the pur- suing lovers, the music and the 29 THE LOST WORD dances, these are the realities. Life is the game, and the world keeps it up merrily. But you ? You are, of a sad countenance for one so young and so fair. Are you a loser in the game ? " The words and tone of the speaker fitted Hernias' mood as a key fits the lock. He opened his heart to the old man, and told him the story of his life : his luxurious boyhood in his father's house; the irresistible spell which compelled him to forsake it when he heard John's preaching of the new religion; his lonely year with the anchorites among the moun- tains; the strict discipline in his teacher's house at Antioch; his weariness of duty, his distaste for poverty, his discontent with worship. "And to-day," said he, "I have A CHRISTMAS LOSS been thinking that I ^,m a fool. My life is swept as bare as a hermit's cell. There is nothing in it but a dream, a thought of God, which does not satisfy me." The singular smile deepened on his companion's face. "You are ready, then," he suggested, "to renounce your new religion and go back to that of your father?" "No; I renounce nothing, I accept nothing. I do not w r ish to think about it. I only wish to live." "A very reasonable wish, and I think you are about to see its ac- complishment. Indeed, I may even say that I can put you in the w r ay of securing it. Do you believe in magic?" "I have told you already that I do not know whether I believe in any- 31 THE LOST WORD thing. This is not a day on which I care to make professions of faith. I believe in what I see. I want what will give me pleasure." "Well," said the old man, sooth- ingly, as he plucked a leaf from the laurel-tree above them and dipped it in the spring, "let us dismiss the riddles of belief. I like them as little as you do. You know this is a Cas- talian fountain. The Emperor Ha- drian once read his fortune here from a leaf dipped in the water. Let us see what this leaf tells us. It is already turning yellow. How do you read that?" "Wealth," said Hernias, laughing, as he looked at his mean garments. "And here is a bud on the stem that seems to be swelling. What is that?" A CHRISTMAS LOSS "Pleasure," answered Hermas, bit- terly. "And here is a tracing of wreaths upon the surface. What do you make of that?" "What you will," said Hermas, not even taking the trouble to look. "Suppose we say success and fame ?" "Yes," said the stranger; "it is all written here. I promise that you shall enjoy it all. But you do not need to believe in my promise. I am not in the habit of requiring faith of those whom I would serve. No such hard conditions for me ! There is only one thing that I ask. This is the season that you Christians call the Christ- mas, and you have taken up the pagan custom of exchanging gifts. Well, if I give to you, you must give to me. It is a small thing, and really 33 THE LOST WORD the thing you can best afford to part with: a single word the name of Him you profess to worship. Let me take that word and all that belongs to it entirely out of your life, so that you shall never need to hear it or speak it again. You will be richer without it. I promise you everything, and this is all I ask in return. Do you consent?" "Yes, I consent," said Hernias, mocking. "If you can take your price, a word, you can keep your promise, a dream." The stranger laid the long, cool, wet leaf softly across the young man's eyes. An icicle of pain darted through them; every nerve in his body was drawn together there in a knot of agony. Then all the tangle of pain seemed 34 A CHRISTMAS LOSS to be lifted out of him. A cool lan- guor of delight flowed back through every vein, and he sank into a pro- found sleep. Ill PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL Ill THERE is a slumber so deep that it annihilates time. It is like a frag- ment of eternity. Beneath its en- chantment of vacancy, a day seems like a thousand years, and a thou- sand years might well pass as one day. It was such a sleep that fell upon Hernias in the Grove of Daphne. An immeasurable period, an interval of life so blank and empty that he could not tell whether it was long or short, had passed over him when his senses began -to stir again. The setting sun was shooting arrows of gold under the glossy laurel-leaves. He rose and stretched his arms, 39 THE LOST WORD grasping a smooth branch above him and shaking it, to make sure that he was alive. Then he hur- ried back toward Antioch, treading lightly as if on air. The ground seemed to spring be- neath his feet. Already his life had changed, he knew not how. Some- thing that did not belong to him had dropped away; he had returned to a former state of being. He felt as if anything might happen to him, and he was ready for anything. He was a new man, yet curiously familiar to himself as if he had done with playing a tiresome part and returned to his natural state. He was buoy- ant and free, without a care, a doubt, a fear. As he drew near to his father's house he saw a confusion of servants 40 PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL in the porch, and the old steward ran down to meet him at the gate. "Lord, we have been seeking you everywhere. The master is at the point of death, and has sent for you. Since the sixth hour he calls your name continually. Come to him quickly, lord, for I fear the time is short." Hernias entered the house at once; nothing could amaze him to-day. His father lay on an ivory couch in the inmost chamber, with shrunken face and restless eyes, his lean fingers picking incessantly at the silken coverlet. "My son!" he murmured; "Her- nias, my son ! It is good that you have come back to me. I have missed you. I was wrong to send you away. You shall never leave me again. 41 THE LOST WORD You are my son, my heir. I have changed everything. Hernias, my son, come nearer close beside me. Take my hand, my son !" The young man obeyed, and, kneel- ing by the couch, gathered his fa- ther's cold, twitching fingers in his firm, warm grasp. "Hernias, life is passing long, rich, prosperous; the last sands, I cannot stay them. My religion, a good pol- icy Julian was my friend. But now he is gone where ? My soul is empty nothing beyond very dark I am afraid. But you know something better. You found something that made you willing to give up your life for it it must have been almost like dying yet you were happy. What was it you found? See, I am giving you everything. I have for- 42 PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL given you. Now forgive me. Tell me, what is it ? Your secret, your faith give it to me before I go." At the sound of this broken plead- ing a strange passion of pity and love took the young man by the throat. His voice shook a little as he answered eagerly: "Father, there is nothing to for- give. I am your son; I will gladly tell you all that I know. I will give you the secret of faith. Father, you must believe with all your heart, and soul, and strength in Where was the word the word that he had been used to utter night and morning, the word that had meant to him more than he had ever known ? What had become of it ? He groped for it in the dark room of his mind. He had thought he 43 THE LOST WORD could lay his hand upon it in a mo- ment, but it was gone. Some one had taken it away. Everything else was most clear to him: the terror of death; the lonely soul appealing from his father's eyes; the instant need of comfort and help. But at the one point where he looked for help he could find nothing; only an empty space. The word of hope had vanished. He felt for it blindly and in desperate haste. "Father, wait! I have forgotten something it has slipped away from me. I shall find it in a moment. There is hope I will tell you presently oh, wait!" The bony hand gripped his like a vice; the glazed eyes opened wider. "Tell me," whispered the old man; "tell me quickly, for I must go." PARTING, BUT NO FAREWELL The voice sank into a dull rattle. The fingers closed once more, and relaxed. The light behind the eyes went out. Hernias, the master of the House of the Golden Pillars, was keeping watch by the dead. 45 IV LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD IV THE break with the old life was as clean as if it had been cut with a knife. Some faint image of a hermit's cell, a bare lodging in a back street of Antioch, a class-room full of ear- nest students, remained in Hernias' memory. Some dull echo of the voice of John the Presbyter, and the mea- sured sound of chanting, and the murmur of great congregations, still lingered in his ears; but it was like something that had happened to another person, something that he had read long ago, but of which he had lost the meaning. His new life was full and smooth and rich too rich for any sense of 49 THE LOST WORD loss to make itself felt. There were a hundred affairs to busy him, and the days ran swiftly by as if they were shod with winged sandals. Nothing needed to be considered, prepared for, begun. Everything was ready and waiting for him. All that he had to do was to go on with it. The estate of Demetrius was even greater than the world had supposed. There were fertile lands in Syria which the emperor had given him, marble-quarries in Phrygia, and for- ests of valuable timber in Cilicia; the vaults of the villa contained chests of gold and silver; the secret cabinets in the master's room were full of precious stones. The stewards were diligent and faithful. The ser- vants of the magnificent household rejoiced at the young master's re- 50 LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD turn. His table was spread; the rose- garland of pleasure was woven for his head, and his cup was already filled with the spicy wine of power. The period of mourning for his father came at a fortunate moment, to seclude and safeguard him from the storm of political troubles and persecutions that fell upon Antioch after the insults offered by the mob to the imperial statues in the year 387. The friends of Demetrius, pru- dent and conservative persons, gath- ered around Hernias and made him welcome to their circle. Chief among them was Libanius, the sophist, his nearest neighbour, whose daughter Athenais had been the playmate of Hernias in the old days. He had left her a child. He found her a beautiful \voman. What trans- 51 THE LOST WORD formation is so magical, so charming, as this ? To see the uncertain lines of youth rounded into firmness and symmetry, to discover the half-ripe, merry, changing face of the girl matured into perfect loveliness, and looking at you with calm, clear, serious eyes, not forgetting the past, but fully conscious of the changed present this is to behold a miracle in the flesh. "Where have you been, these two years?" said Athenais, as they walked together through the garden of lilies where they had so often played. "In a land of tiresome dreams," an- swered Hernias; "but you have wak- ened me, and I am never going back again." It was not to be supposed that the 52 LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD sudden disappearance of Hernias from among his former associates could long remain unnoticed. At first it was a mystery. There was a fear, for two or three days, that he might be lost. Some of his more intimate companions maintained that his de- votion had led him out into the des- ert to join the anchorites. But the news of his return to the House of the Golden Pillars, and of his new life as its master, filtered quickly through the gossip of the city. Then the church was filled with dis- may and grief and reproach. Mes- sengers and letters w r ere sent to Her- nias. They disturbed him a little, but they took no hold upon him. It seemed to him as if the messengers spoke in a strange language. As he read the letters there were words 53 THE LOST WORD blotted out of the writing which made the full sense unintelligible. His old companions came to re- prove him for leaving them, to warn him of the peril of apostasy, to en- treat him to return. It all sounded vague and futile. They spoke as if he had betrayed or offended some one; but when they came to name the object of his fear the one whom he had displeased, and to whom he should return he heard nothing; there was a blur of silence in their speech. The clock pointed to the hour, but the bell did not strike. At last Hernias refused to see them any more. One day John the Presbyter stood in the atrium. Hernias was enter- taining Libanius and Athenais in the banquet-hall. When the visit of the 54 LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD Presbyter was announced, the young master loosed a collar of gold and jewels from his neck, and gave it to his scribe. "Take this to John of Antioch, and tell him it is a gift from his former pupil as a token of remembrance, or to spend for the poor of the city. I will always send him what he wants, but it is idle for us to talk together any more. I do not understand what he says. I have not gone to the tem- ple, nor offered sacrifice, nor denied his teaching. I have simply forgotten. I do not think about those things any longer. I am only living. A happy man wishes him all happiness and farewell." But John let the golden collar fall on the marble floor. "Tell your master that we shall talk together again, 55 THE LOST WORD after all," said he, as he passed sadly out of the hall. The love of Athenais and Hernias was like a tiny rivulet that sinks out of sight in a cavern, but emerges again as a bright and brimming stream. The careless comradery of childhood was mysteriously changed into a complete companionship. When Athenais entered the House of the Golden Pillars as a bride, all the music of life came with her. Hernias called the feast of her wel- come "the banquet of the full chord." Day after day, night after night, week after week, month after month, the bliss of the home un- folded like a rose of a thousand leaves. When a child came to them, a strong, beautiful boy, worthy to be the heir of such a house, the heart 56 LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD of the rose was filled with overflow- ing fragrance. Happiness was heaped upon happiness. Every wish brought its own accomplishment. Wealth, honour, beauty, peace, love it was an abundance of felicity so great that the soul of Hernias could hardly contain it. Strangely enough, it began to press upon him, to trouble him with the very excess of joy. He felt as if there were something yet needed to com- plete and secure it all. There was an urgency within him, a longing to find some outlet for his feelings, he knew not how some expression and cul- mination of his happiness, he knew not what. Under his joyous demeanour a se- cret fire of restlessness began to burn an expectancy of something yet to 57 THE LOST WORD come which should put the touch of perfection on his life. He spoke of it to Athenais, as they sat together, one summer evening, in a bower of jasmine, with their boy playing at their feet. There had been music in the garden; but now the singers and lute-players had withdrawn, leaving the master and mistress alone in the lingering twilight, tremulous with in- articulate melody of unseen birds. There was a secret voice in the hour seeking vainly for utterance a word waiting to be spoken at the centre of the charm. "How deep is our happiness, my beloved!" said Hernias; "deeper than the sea that slumbers yonder, below the city. And yet I feel it is not quite full and perfect. There is a depth of joy that we have not yet 58 LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD known a repose of happiness that is still beyond us. What is it ? I have no superstitious fears, like the king who cast his signet-ring into the sea because he dreaded that some secret vengeance would fall on his unbroken good fortune. That was an idle terror. But there is something that oppresses me like an invisible burden. There is something still undone, unspoken, unfelt something that we need to complete everything. Have you not felt it, too ? Can you not lead me to it?" "Yes," she answered, lifting her eyes to his face; "I, too, have felt it, Hernias, this burden, this need, this unsatisfied longing. I think I know what it means. It is gratitude the language of the heart, the music of happiness. There is no perfect joy 59 THE LOST WORD without gratitude. But we have never learned it, and the want of it troubles us. It is like being dumb with a heart full of love. We must find the word for it, and say it together. Then we shall be perfectly joined in perfect joy. Come, my dear lord, let us take the boy with us, and give thanks." Hernias lifted the child in his arms, and turned with Athenais into the depth of the garden. There was a dismantled shrine of some forgotten fashion of worship half hidden among the luxuriant flowers. A fallen image lay beside it, face downward in the grass. They stood there, hand in hand, the boy drowsily resting on his father's shoulder a threefold har- mony of strength and beauty and in- nocence. Silently the roseate light caressed LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD the tall spires of the cypress-trees; silently the shadows gathered at their feet; silently the crystal stars looked out from the deepening arch of heaven. The very breath of being paused. It was the hour of culmina- tion, the supreme moment of felicity waiting for its crown. The tones of Hernias were clear and -low as he be- gan, half speaking and half chanting, in the rhythm of an ancient song: "Fair is the world, the sea, the sky, the double kingdom of day and night, in the glow of morning, in the shadow of evening, and under the dripping light of stars. "Fairer still is life in our breasts, with its manifold music and meaning, with its wonder of seeing and hearing and feeling and knowing and being. "Fairer and still more fair is love, 61 THE LOST WORD that draws us together, mingles our lives in its flow, and bears them along like a river, strong and clear and swift, reflecting the stars in its bosom. "Wide is our world; we are rich; we have all things. Life is abundant within us a measureless deep. Deep- est of all is our love, and it longs to speak. "Come, thou final word! Come, thou crown of speech ! Come, thou charm of peace ! Open the gates of our hearts. Lift the weight of our joy and bear it upward. "For all good gifts, for all perfect gifts, for love, for life, for the world, we praise, we bless, we thank " As a soaring bird, struck by an ar- row, falls headlong from the sky, so the song of Hernias fell. At the end LOVE IN SEARCH OF A WORD of his flight of gratitude there was nothing a blank, a hollow space. He looked for a face, and saw a void. He sought for a hand, and clasped vacancy. His heart was throb- bing and swelling with passion; the bell swung to and fro within him, beating from side to side as if it would burst; but not a single note came from it. All the fulness of his feeling, that had risen upward like a living fountain, fell back from the empty sky, as cold as snow, as hard as hail, frozen and dead. There was no meaning in his happiness. No one had sent it to him. There was no one to thank for it. His felicity was a closed circle, a wall of eternal ice. "Let us go back," he said sadly to Athenais; "the child is heavy upon my shoulder. We will lay him to 63 THE LOST WORD sleep, and go into the library. The air grows chilly. We were mistaken. The gratitude of life is only a dream. There is no one to thank." And in the garden it was already night. V RICHES WITHOUT REST No outward change came to the House of the Golden Pillars. Every- thing moved as smoothly, as deli- cately, as prosperously, as before. But inwardly there was a subtle, inexplicable transformation. A vague discontent, a final and inevitable sense of incompleteness, overshad- owed existence from that night when Hernias realized that his joy could never go beyond itself. The next morning the old man whom he had seen in the Grove of Daphne, but never since, appeared mysteriously at the door of the house, as if he had been sent for, and entered, to dwell there like an invited guest. 67 THE LOST WORD Hermas could not but make him welcome, and at first he tried to re- gard him with reverence and affec- tion as the one through whom for- tune had come. But it was impossible. There was a chill in the inscrutable smile of Marcion, as he called him- self, that seemed to mock at rever- ence. He was in the house as one watching a strange experiment tranquil, interested, ready to supply anything that might be needed for its completion, but thoroughly in- different to the feelings of the sub- ject; an anatomist of life, looking curiously to see how long it would continue, and how it would behave, after the heart had been removed. In his presence Hermas was con- scious of a certain irritation, a re- sentful anger against the calm, frigid RICHES WITHOUT REST scrutiny of the eyes that followed him everywhere, like a pair of spies, peering out over the smiling mouth and the long white beard. "Why do you look at me so curi- ously?" asked Hernias, one morn- ing, as they sat together in the li- brary. "Do you see anything strange in me?" "No," answ r ered Marcion; "some- thing familiar." "And what is that?" "A singular likeness to a discon- tented young man that I met some years ago in the Grove of Daphne." "But why should that interest you ? Surely it was to be expected." "A thing that we expect often sur- prises us when we see it. Besides, my curiosity is piqued. I suspect you of keeping a secret from me." THE LOST WORD "You are jesting with me. There is nothing in my life that you do not know. What is the secret?" "Nothing more than the wish to have one. You are growing tired of your bargain. The game wearies you. That is foolish. Do you want to try a new part?" The question was like a mirror upon which one comes suddenly in a half -lighted room. A quick illu- mination falls on it, and the passer- by is startled by the look of his own face. "You are right," said Hernias. "I am tired. We have been going on stupidly in this house, as if nothing were possible but what my father had done before me. There is noth- ing original in being rich, and well fed, and well dressed. Thousands of 70 RICHES WITHOUT REST men have tried it, and have not been very well satisfied. Let us do some- thing new. Let us make a mark in the world." "It is well said," nodded the old man; "you are speaking again like a man after my own heart. There is no folly but the loss of an opportu- nity to enjoy a new sensation." From that day Hernias seemed to be possessed with a perpetual haste, an uneasiness that left him no repose. The summit of life had been at- tained, the highest possible point of felicity. Henceforward the course could only be at a level perhaps downward. It might be brief; at the best it could not be very long. It was madness to lose a day, an hour. That would be the only fatal mis- take: to forfeit anything of the bar- 71 THE LOST WORD gain that he had made. He would have it, and hold it, and enjoy it all to the full. The world might have nothing better to give than it had already given; but surely it had many things that were new to be- stow upon him, and Marcion should help him to find them. Under his learned counsel the House of the Golden Pillars took on a new magnificence. Artists were brought from Corinth and Rome and Byzan- tium to adorn it with splendour. Its fame glittered around the world. Banquets of incredible luxury drew the most celebrated guests into its triclinium, and filled them with en- vious admiration. The bees swarmed and buzzed about the golden hive. The human insects, gorgeous moths of pleasure and greedy flies of ap- 72 RICHES WITHOUT REST petite, parasites and flatterers and crowds of inquisitive idlers, danced and fluttered in the dazzling light that surrounded Hernias. Everything that he touched pros- pered. He bought a tract of land in the Caucasus, and emeralds were discovered among the mountains. He sent a fleet of wheat-ships to Italy, and the price of grain doubled while it was on the way. He sought political favour with the emperor, and was rewarded with the gover- norship of the city. His name was a word to conjure with. The beauty of Athenais lost noth- ing with the passing seasons, but grew more perfect, even under the inexplicable shade of dissatisfaction that sometimes veiled it as a trans- lucent cloud that passes before the 73 THE LOST WORD full moon. "Fair as the wife of Her- mas" was a proverb in Antioch; and soon men began to add to it, "Beau- tiful as the son of Hermas"; for the child developed swiftly in that fa- vouring clime. At nine years of age he was straight and strong, firm of limb and clear of eye. His brown head was on a level with his father's heart. He was the jewel of the House of the Golden Pillars; the pride of Hermas, the new Fortunatus. That year another drop of success fell into his brimming cup. His black Numidian horses, which he had been training for three years for the world-renowned chariot-races of Antioch, won the victory over a score of rivals. Hermas received the prize carelessly from the judge's hands, and turned to drive once 74 RICHES WITHOUT REST more around the circus, to show himself to the people. He lifted the eager boy into the chariot beside him to share his triumph. Here, indeed, was the glory of his life this matchless son, his brighter counterpart carved in breathing ivory, touching his arm, and bal- ancing himself proudly on the sway- ing floor of the chariot. As the horses pranced around the ring, a great shout of applause filled the amphi- theatre, and thousands of spectators waved their salutations of praise: "Hail, fortunate Hernias, master of success ! Hail, little Hernias, prince of good luck !" The sudden tempest of acclama- tion, the swift fluttering of innumer- able garments in the air, startled the horses. They dashed violently for- 75 THE LOST WORD ward, and plunged upon the bits. The left rein broke. They swerved to the right, swinging the chariot sideways with a grating noise, and dashing it against the stone parapet of the arena. In an instant the wheel was shattered. The axle struck the ground, and the chariot was dragged onward, rocking and staggering. By a strenuous effort Hernias kept his place on the frail platform, cling- ing to the unbroken rein. But the boy was tossed lightly from his side at the first shock. His head struck the wall. And when Hernias turned to look for him, he was lying like a broken flower on the sand. 7G VI GREAT FEAR AND RECOV- ERED JOY VI THEY carried the boy in a litter to the House of the Golden Pillars, summoning the most skilful physi- cian of Antioch to attend him. For hours the child was as quiet as death. Hermas watched the white eyelids, folded close like lily-buds at night, even as one watches for the morn- ing. At last they opened; but the fire of fever was burning in the eyes, and the lips were moving in a wild delirium. Hour after hour that sweet child- ish voice rang through the halls and chambers of the splendid, helpless house, now rising in shrill calls of distress and senseless laughter, now 79 THE LOST WORD sinking in weariness and dull moan- ing. The stars waxed and waned; the sun rose and set; the roses bloomed and fell in the garden ; the birds sang and slept among the jasmine-bowers. But in the heart of Hernias there was no song, no bloom, no light only speechless anguish, and a cer- tain fearful looking-for of desolation. He was like a man in a nightmare. He saw the shapeless terror that was moving toward him, but he was im- potent to stay or to escape it. He had done all that he could. There was nothing left but to wait. He paced to and fro, now hurrying to the boy's bed as if he could not bear to be away from it, now turn- ing back as if he could not endure to be near it. The people of the house, even Athenais, feared to speak 80 GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY to him, there was something so va- cant and desperate in his face. At nightfall, on the second of those eternal days, he shut himself in the library. The unfilled lamp had gone out, leaving a trail of smoke in the air. The sprigs of mignonette and rosemary, with which the room was sprinkled every day, were unre- newed, and scented the gloom with a close odor of decay. A costly manu- script of Theocritus was tumbled in disorder on the floor. Hernias sank into a chair like a man in whom the very spring of being is broken. Through the darkness some one drew near. He did not even lift his head. A hand touched him; a soft arm was laid over his shoulders. It was Athenais, kneeling beside him and speaking very low: 81 THE LOST WORD "Hermas it is almost over the child ! His voice grows weaker hour by hour. He moans and calls for some one to help him; then he laughs. It breaks my heart. He has just fallen asleep. The moon is rising now. Unless a change comes he can- not last till sunrise. Is there nothing we can do? Is there no power that can save him? Is there no one to pity us and spare us? Let us call, let us beg for compassion and help; let us pray for his life !" Yes; that was what he wanted that was the only thing that could bring relief: to pray; to pour out his sorrow somewhere; to find a greater strength than his own, and cling to it and plead for mercy and help. To leave that undone was to be false to his manhood; it was to be no 82 GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY better than the dumb beasts when their young perish. How could he let his boy suffer and die, without an effort, a cry, a prayer? He sank on his knees beside Athe- nais. "Out of the depths out of the depths we call for pity. The light of our eyes is fading the child is dy- ing. Oh, the child, the child ! Spare the child's life, thou merciful Not a word; only that deathly blank. The hands of Hermas, stretched out in supplication, touched the marble table. He felt the cool hardness of the polished stone be- neath his fingers. A book, dislodged by his touch, fell rustling to the floor. Through the open door, faint and far off, came the footsteps of the servants, moving cautiously. The THE LOST WORD heart of Hermas was like a lump of ice in his bosom. He rose slowly to his feet, lifting Athenais with him. "It is in vain," he said; "there is nothing for us to do. Long ago I knew something. I think it would have helped us. But I have forgotten it. It is all gone. But I would give all that I have if I could bring it back again now, at this hour, in this time of our bitter trouble." A slave entered the room while he was speaking, and approached hesi- tatingly. "Master," he said, "John of An- tioch, whom we were forbidden to admit to the house, has come again. He would take no denial. Even now he waits in the peristyle; and the old man Marcion is with him, seeking to turn him away." 84 GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY "Come," said Hermas to his wife, "let us go to him; for I think I see the beginning of a way that may lead us out of this dreadful darkness." In the central hall the two men were standing; Marcion, with dis- dainful eyes and sneering lips, taunt- ing the unbidden guest to depart; John silent, quiet, patient, while the wondering slaves looked on in dismay. He lifted his searching gaze to the haggard face of Hermas. "My son, I knew that I should see you again, even though you did not send for me. I have come to you be- cause I have heard that you are in trouble." "It is true," answered Hermas, passionately; "we are in trouble, desperate trouble, trouble accursed. Our child is dying. We are poor, we 85 THE LOST WORD are destitute, we are afflicted. In all this house, in all the world, there is no one that can help us. I knew something long ago, when I was with you, a word, a name, in which we might have found hope. But I have lost it. I gave it to this man. He has taken it away from me forever." He pointed to Marcion. The old man's lips curled scornfully. "A word, a name!" he sneered. "What is that, O most wise and holy Pres- byter? A thing of air, an unreal thing that men make to describe their own dreams and fancies. Who would go about to rob any one of such a thing as that ? It is a prize that only a fool would think of tak- ing. Besides, the young man parted with it of his own free will. He bar- GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY gained with me cleverly. I promised him wealth and pleasure and fame. What did he give in return? An empty name, which was a burden "Servant of demons, be still!" The voice of John rang clear, like a trumpet, through the hall. "There is a name which none shall dare to take in vain. There is a name which none can lose without being lost. There is a name at which the devils tremble. Depart quickly, before I speak it!" Marcion had shrunk into the shad- ow of one of the pillars. A bright lamp near him tottered on its ped- estal and fell with a crash. In the confusion he vanished, as noiselessly as a shade. John turned to Hermas, and his tone softened as he said: "My son, you have sinned deeper than you 87 THE LOST WORD know. The word with which you parted so lightly is the key-word of all life and joy and peace. Without it the world has no meaning, and existence no rest, and death no refuge. It is the word that purifies love, and comforts grief, and keeps hope alive forever. It is the most precious thing that ever ear has heard, or mind has known, or heart has conceived. It is the name of Him who has given us life and breath and all things richly to enjoy; the name of Him who, though we may forget Him, never forgets us; the name of Him who pities us as you pity your suffering child; the name of Him who, though we wander far from Him, seeks us in the wilder- ness, and sent His Son, even as His Son has sent me this night, to GREAT FEAR AND RECOVERED JOY breathe again that forgotten name in the heart that is perishing with- out it. Listen, my son, listen with all your soul to the blessed name of God our Father." The cold agony in the breast of Hernias dissolved like a fragment of ice that melts in the summer sea. A sense of sweet release spread through him from head to foot. The lost was found. The dew of a divine peace fell on his parched soul, and the withering flower of human love lifted its head again. The light of a new hope shone on his face. He stood upright, and lifted his hands high toward heaven. "Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord ! O my God, be merciful to me, for my soul trusteth in Thee. My God, Thou hast given; 89 THE LOST WORD take not Thy gift away from me, O my God! Spare the life of this my child, O Thou God, my Father, my Father!" A deep hush followed the cry. "Listen!" whispered Athenais, breathlessly. Was it an echo ? It could not be, for it came again the voice of the child, clear and low, waking from sleep, and calling: "My father, my father !" UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. RHTBtD-UWJ JUN 1 1985 50m-7,'69(N296s4) 0-120 UCLA-Young Research Library PZ7 .V31I y L 009 613 287 3