ented through so many
years. The good and evil deeds of your past life lost colour and
perspective, and fell back into a dull, flat background, against which
the ineffable vision of beautiful and immortal womanhood stood forth in
transcendent glory. The eternal womanly element of the great universe
beckoned you on, as it did Doctor Faustus of old. You had hitherto
accepted woman and ignored womanhood, as so many of the followers of the
prophet have always done. Henceforth there was to be a change, entire,
complete, and enduring. No doubts now, or careless scepticism; no cant
about women having no souls and no individual being; you had made a
great step to a better understanding of the world you live in. Filled
with a new life, you went on your way rejoicing and longing to do great
deeds for her who had come into your destiny. From dawn to sunset, and
from evening to dawn, one picture ever was before you leading you on.
You were ready to run any risk for a smile and a blush of pleasure, you
were willing to sacrifice anything and everything for her praise. And
when, down there among the mango-trees in the Terai, your lips first
touched hers and your arm pressed her to your side, the joy that was
yours was as the joy of the immortals."

Ram Lal paused, and Isaacs, who had been sitting by the table, stony and
dry-eyed, hid his face in his hands, clutching with his white fingers
among his bright black hair--all that seemed left to him of life, so
dead and ashy was his face. He remained thus without looking up, as the
old man continued.

"Think not, dear friend and brother, that I have come here to dwell
needlessly on your grief, to rouse again the keen agonies that have so
lately burned through and through you to the quick. I love you well, and
would but trace the past in order to paint the future. All that you felt
and knew in those short days of perfect love on earth was good and true
and noble, and shall not be forgotten hereafter. But last night closed
the second of your three destinies--as true love always must close on
earth--in bitter grief and sorrow because the one is gone before. Rather
should you rejoice, Abdul Hafiz, that she is gone in virgin whiteness,
whither ere long you shall follow and be with her till time shall chase
the crumbling world out over the broad quicksands of eternity, and
nought shall survive of all this but the pure and the constant and the
faithful to death. There is before you a third, dest