"It is well," she said; "prepare to enter the very womb of the Earth,
wherein she doth conceive the Life that ye see brought forth in man and
beast--ay, and in every tree and flower."

Swiftly she sped along, and after her we stumbled as best we might, our
hearts filled like a cup with mingled dread and curiosity. What were we
about to see? We passed down the tunnel; stronger and stronger the light
beamed, reaching us in great flashes like the rays from a lighthouse, as
one by one they are thrown wide upon the darkness of the waters. Nor was
this all, for with the flashes came a soul-shaking sound like that of
thunder and of crashing trees. Now we were through it, and--oh heavens!

We stood in a third cavern, some fifty feet in length by perhaps as
great a height, and thirty wide. It was carpeted with fine white sand,
and its walls had been worn smooth by the action of I know not what. The
cavern was not dark like the others, it was filled with a soft glow of
rose-coloured light, more beautiful to look on than anything that can
be conceived. But at first we saw no flashes, and heard no more of the
thunderous sound. Presently, however, as we stood in amaze, gazing at
the marvellous sight, and wondering whence the rosy radiance flowed, a
dread and beautiful thing happened. Across the far end of the
cavern, with a grinding and crashing noise--a noise so dreadful and
awe-inspiring that we all trembled, and Job actually sank to his
knees--there flamed out an awful cloud or pillar of fire, like a rainbow
many-coloured, and like the lightning bright. For a space, perhaps forty
seconds, it flamed and roared thus, turning slowly round and round, and
then by degrees the terrible noise ceased, and with the fire it passed
away--I know not where--leaving behind it the same rosy glow that we had
first seen.

"Draw near, draw near!" cried Ayesha, with a voice of thrilling
exultation. "Behold the very Fountain and Heart of Life as it beats in
the bosom of the great world. Behold the substance from which all things
draw their energy, the bright Spirit of the Globe, without which it
cannot live, but must grow cold and dead as the dead moon. Draw near,
and wash you in the living flames, and take their virtue into your poor
frames in all its virgin strength--not as it now feebly glows within
your bosoms, filtered thereto through all the fine strainers of a
thousand intermediate lives, but as it is here in the very fount and
seat of earth