CHAPTER III.

THREE VISIONS.


Roses, roses! An interminable chain of these royal blossoms, red and
white, wreathed by the radiant fingers of small rainbow-winged
creatures as airy as moonlight mist, as delicate as thistledown!
They cluster round me with smiling faces and eager eyes; they place
the end of their rose-garland in my hand, and whisper, "FOLLOW!"
Gladly I obey, and hasten onward. Guiding myself by the fragrant
chain I hold, I pass through a labyrinth of trees, whose luxuriant
branches quiver with the flight and song of birds. Then comes a
sound of waters; the riotous rushing of a torrent unchecked, that
leaps sheer down from rocks a thousand feet high, thundering forth
the praise of its own beauty as it tosses in the air triumphant
crowns of silver spray. How the living diamonds within it shift, and
change, and sparkle! Fain would I linger to watch this magnificence;
but the coil of roses still unwinds before me, and the fairy voices
still cry, "FOLLOW!" I press on. The trees grow thicker; the songs
of the birds cease; the light around me grows pale and subdued. In
the far distance I see a golden crescent that seems suspended by
some invisible thread in the air. Is it the young moon? No; for as I
gaze it breaks apart into a thousand points of vivid light like
wandering stars. These meet; they blaze into letters of fire. I
strain my dazzled eyes to spell out their meaning. They form one
word--HELIOBAS. I read it. I utter it aloud. The rose-chain breaks
at my feet, and disappears. The fairy voices die away on my ear.
There is utter silence, utter darkness,--save where that one NAME
writes itself in burning gold on the blackness of the heavens.