“I believe.”
“ ’Tis so,” continued Ai. “Half by chance and half by learning, I long ago solved one of the great secrets of Nature. Life is wonderful, but eternity is more wonderful.” He paused, regarding affectionately Reuel’s troubled face.
“I will answer thy question presently. But can I do aught for thee? Dost memories of that world from which thou hast recently come disturb thee, Ergamenes? I have some feeble powers; if thou wilt, command them.” Ai fell into the use of “thee” and “thou” always when greatly moved, and Reuel had become very dear to him.
“I would know some happenings in the world I have left; could my desire be granted, I might, perchance, lose this restlessness which now oppresses me.”
Ai regarded him intently. “How far hast thou progressed in knowledge of Infinity?” he asked at length.
“You shall be the judge,” replied Reuel. And then ensued a technical conversation on the abstract science of occultism and the future state.
“I see thou are well versed,” said Ai finally, evidently well pleased with the young man’s versatility. “Come with me. Truly we have not mistaken thee, Ergamenes. Wonderfully hast thou been preserved and fitted for the work before thee.”
Reuel had the freedom of the palace, but he knew that there were rooms from which he was excluded. One room especially seemed to be the sanctum sanctorium of the Sages. It was to this room that Ai now conducted him.
Reuel was nearly overpowered with the anticipation of being initiated into the mysteries of this apartment. He found nothing terrifying, however, in the plain, underground room into which he was ushered. A rough table and wooden stools constituted the furniture. The only objects of mystery were a carved table at one end of the apartment, with a silken cloth thrown over its top, and a vessel like a baptismal font, cut in stone, full of water. Air and light came from an outside source, for there were no windows in the room. After closing the door securely, Ai advanced and removed the cloth from the table. “Sit,” he commanded. “You ask me how I knew of your coming to my land. Lo, I have followed your career from babyhood. Behold, Ergamenes! What would you see upon the mirror’s face? Friend or foe?”
Reuel advanced and looked upon the surface of a disk of which the top of the table was composed. The material of which the polished surface was composed was unknown to Reuel; it was not glass, though quite transparent; it was not metal, though bright as polished steel.
Reuel made no wish, but thought of the spot where the accident had occurred upon the River Charles weeks before. He was startled to observe a familiar scene where he had often rowed for pleasure on pleasant summer evenings. Every minute particular of the scenery was distinctly visible. Presently the water seemed to darken, and he saw distinctly the canoe containing Aubrey, Molly and Dianthe gliding over the water. He started back aghast, crying out, “It is magical!”
“No, no, Ergamenes, this is a secret of Nature. In this disk I can show thee what thou wilt of the past. In the water of the font we see the future. Think of a face, a scene—I will reflect it for thee on this disk. This is an old secret, known to Ethiopia, Egypt and Arabia centuries ago. I can reflect the past and the faces of those passed away, but the living and the future are cast by the water.”
Reuel was awed into silence. He could say nothing, and listened to Ai’s learned remarks with a reverence that approached almost to worship before this proof of his supernatural powers. What would the professors of Harvard have said to this, he asked himself. In the heart of Africa was a knowledge of science that all the wealth and learning of modern times could not emulate. For some time the images came and went upon the mirror, in obedience to his desires. He saw the scenes of his boyhood, the friends of his youth, and experienced anew the delights of life’s morning. Then he idly desired to see the face of his loved Dianthe, as she last appeared on earth. The surface of the disk reflected nothing!
“You have not reached perfection then, in this reflector?”
“Why think you so?” asked Ai gravely.
“I have asked to see the face of a friend who is dead. The mirror did not reflect it.”
“The disk cannot err,” said Ai. “Let us try the water in the font.”
“But that reflects the living, you say; she is dead.”
“The disk cannot err,” persisted Ai. He turned to the font, gazed in its surface, and then beckoned Reuel to approach. From the glassy surface Dianthe’s face gazed back at him, worn and lined with grief.
“ ’Tis she!” he cried, “her very self.”
“Then your friend still lives,” said Ai, calmly.
“Impossible!”
“Why do you doubt my word, Ergamenes?”
Then with great suppressed excitement and much agitation, Reuel repeated the story of Dianthe’s death as brought to him by the last mail he had received from America.
“You say that ‘Molly,’ as you call her, was also drowned?”
“Yes.”
“Let us try the disk.”
They returned to the mirror and instantly the face of Molly Vance gazed at them from the river’s bed, surrounded by seaweed and grasses.
“Can a man believe in his own sanity!” exclaimed Reuel in an agony of perplexity.
Ai made no reply, but returned to the font. “I think it best to call up the face of your enemy. I am sure you have one.” Immediately the water reflected the debonair face of Aubrey Livingston, which was almost instantly blotted out by the face of Jim Titus.
“Two!” murmured Ai. “I thought so.”
“If she then lives, as your science seems to insist, show me her present situation,” cried Reuel, beside himself with fears.
“I must have a special preparation for the present,” said Ai, calmly. He set about preparing a liquid mixture. When this was accomplished he washed the face of the
