* * * * *

And now, peace, perfect, unconditioned, sublime peace, and rest, and
silence. For to the great depths of the mighty ocean the solemn bells
cannot penetrate, and no sound, not even the beatings of one's own
heart, is heard. In the heart of eternity there can be nothing to break
the calm of frozen æons. In the great white hall I lay, silent,
unexpectant, calm, and smiled in perfect content at the web of auburn
hair which trailed across my couch. No passionate longing for life or
love, no doubting question of heaven or hell, no strife for carnal
needs,--only rest, content, peace--happiness, perfect, whole, complete,
sublime.

And thus passed ages and ages, æons and æons. The great earth there in
the dim distance above the ocean has toiled wearily about the sun, until
its mechanism was failing, and the warm ardor of the lover's eye was
becoming pale and cold from age, while the air all about the fast
dwindling sphere was heavy and thick with the sorrows and heartaches and
woes of the humans upon its face. Heavy with the screams and roar of
war; with the curses of the deceived of traitors; with the passionate
sighs of unlawful love; with the crushing unrest of blighted hopes.
Knowledge and contempt of all these things permeated even to the inmost
depths of time, as I lay in the halls of rest and smiled at the web
floating through my white fingers.

* * * * *

But hark! discord begins. There is a vague fear which springs from an
unknown source and drifts into the depths of rest; fear, indefinable,