could tell if the tottering old structure would endure the strain to which it was about to be subjected.
Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong!
I could think only of the big bell at the gate of Greenwood cemetery, tolling as it tolled on that chill October day when I consigned my baby boy to the dust.
Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong!
I could see my wife weeping and protesting that she wanted to die also; begging me to bury her along with the child, when at that very time she
Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong!
Ring out, old bell! Ring out your loudest peal and drown these memories forever! If the teachings of this strange land are truth, then may they indeed be forgotten; for not only does the boy still live, but there awaits me in that land, where we know each other as we are, one whose heart will beat in perfect accord with my heart’s beatings: whose soul shall know no thought, no longing that is not in harmony with my own!
Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Ding, dong!
Still the bell kept tolling. Why, I did not know; but this much was certain—our time at Psam-dagong was growing short, for the waters had risen almost to the top of the lamasery wall and the rain was falling in torrents.
“Come, George,” said the Doctor, calling me from the temple doorway. “Come. Padma wants you; he is going to show us the road by which we are to escape!”
The sound of the Doctor’s voice banished the strange spell which had come upon me. At the same moment the bell upon which Ni-fan-lu had been banging away for more than an hour suddenly ceased to toll. I hurried across the courtyard to the temple door.
It was late in the afternoon—the afternoon following the bursting of the Dshambi-nor. Long ago Walla and I had parted, she to crouch before the altar where lay Maurice’s body, I to wander hither and thither, pondering, doubting, wondering, fearing! God knows I could make nothing of it. The only wonder is I did not go raving mad.
Now I would say to myself that I was mad; that Maurice was dead; that the proper thing for me was to immolate myself on that same altar and make an end of it all. Again I was in reverie, and in fancy saw myself floating through the spheres, seeking the voice which through Walla’s lips
