By the World Forgot: A Double Romance of the East and West

"Tomorrow we shall try it again."

"I will come with you," said the girl, "although I am very fearful."

"And those spirits?" smiled the man.

"If they hurt you they must hurt me, too; for without you," she went on frankly, "I cannot live upon this island."

CHAPTER XIX

THE KISS THAT WAS DIFFERENT

Now, Truda was terribly afraid to visit the mysterious house-one doesn't get rid of a taboo inherited through two hundred years in a night-but her timidity had been somewhat modified by the indifference with which the man she loved and whom, she revered as a god, viewed the whole situation, at least from a supernatural standpoint, and, as of old, knowledge was power.

Her intercourse with Beekman had been immensely enlightening. Latent reserves of quality, inherited capacities long dormant, had been summoned to the surface and quickened into action by his converse, and by their association so intimate and so sweet. Although the period of their intimacy had not been long, yet it was not alone in matters of the heart that Beekman had devoted himself to her enlightenment. At first he had tried to teach her everything, but, realizing the bewilderment that must follow such a process, he had striven to systematize his instruction in order that she might grow in wisdom if not in stature, and that he might introduce her gradually to the heritage of the present. The results of the process had been wonderful.

The progressive degeneration, resultant of close inbreeding, which had brought most of the islanders to so low a point physically and mentally, seemed to have been reversed in her by some curiously interesting and delightful freak of nature. It was easy to see that she possessed an unusual mind, and that, given a chance, she could take her place in the front rank of intelligence and capacity. Rarely had so fascinating a task of writing what one would upon an unmarred slate been presented to any one, and Beekman entered upon it eagerly and pursued it with zest. He was very human; he was a man, this woman was clearly his in any way he wished her to be. There was temptation in the knowledge. He realized it, fought it down, wondering if he could or would strive against it always. He could foresee that it would grow stronger as the intimacy deepened. He feared that in the end-

To create is the supremest joy of humanity, in that effort he comes nearest to realizing the measure of the divinity that is in him. There are no people so happy as those who achieve things in art, science, literature, government, business, what you will. The loveliest of playthings, the most promising subject for experiment had been put in Beekman's hands. She was his to make what he would. Naturally, he fell in love with her, and not alone with her beauty of face and figure, her transparent purity and the sweetness of her childlike innocence, although these were enough to have bewitched any man, but with the other qualities that he saw budding and blossoming under his touch.

So while Truda could not shake off the inherited fears of so many decades in a moment, yet two things materially modified them; her growing consciousness of a self in her other than the mere animal, and her great trust and devotion to the man for whom she had conceived and entertained an instant passion even greater than that he lavished upon her. These made her the more willing to brave the mysterious terrors of the tabooed hut. She had been in the building a number of times on ceremonial occasions, and her curiosity had been sufficient to enable her by furtive glances to master many details, which she told him frankly, and which he declared would be of great help to them in their investigations.

By agreement the two met early in the evening, for the people of the island were accustomed to go to sleep with the dark, and, as a rule, an hour after sunset the place was as quiet as at midnight. The moon had not yet risen, which contributed to their desire for concealment. Warned by his experience of the night before, Beekman made no effort at the door, but, followed by his timid yet confiding companion, he boldly entered the opening at the rear. Light, of course, was out of the question. A torch from the fire was possible, but the risk of getting that was too great for the attempt to be made. He had provided himself with a long, slender staff and with this he felt about until he satisfied himself that he was in a small, unpaved enclosure, or room. Having assured himself that no pitfall or gulf was in the floor by means of his staff, he laid his hand upon the wall and walked cautiously along it.

Truda, of course, had never entered this end of the building. She had never even peeped in as she passed by, and she could aid him not at all. Indeed, she clung to him with terror, which, in spite of her efforts, grew with every silent, slow-passing moment. Beekman had an idea there must be some connection between this chamber and the main floor of the building. He could tell that he had descended below the level of the floor in entering and on lifting his staff he discovered that the ceiling was just above his head.

His anticipations were realized, for at the far end he found an opening just wide enough to admit a man. He felt the walls on either side of the opening, and with his staff discovered steps beneath his feet, leading upward. He stepped into the opening, cast his eyes upward and discovered a faint light above his head. Assured, he mounted boldly, Truda still following, and, after a short ascent, he stood on the floor of the building at the end opposite the main door.

The moon had just risen. Indeed, he had timed his entrance with that in mind, and although the unglazed window openings were covered with a thick overgrowth of vines, enough light filtered through to enable him to see sufficiently clearly.

He found himself in a stone-paved room, about twenty by forty feet. About ten feet from where he stood a low wall, or balustrade, of the soft, easily cut stone, with which the island abounded, ran across the narrower axis. There was an opening in the middle of this wall. The floor on his side of the balustrade was raised several steps above the main floor. In the center of the end to his right, as he looked toward the entrance door, was a pile of stones, roughly squared with a flat top. On this pile of stones lay two dark objects, one on either end. Between the two dark objects on the central pile something rose above the stone table. On the further side of it blocks of stone were piled against the wall in rude semblance of a seat.

Now, there was apparently nothing in the building to alarm any one, yet Beekman found his heart beating rapidly as he stood there, the shrinking girl by his side, clasping his arm with a fierce and passionate grasp that bespoke her trepidation. It was absolutely silent within. The gentle night wind outside slightly stirred the long palm leaves, but no breeze penetrated within and no sound of their rustling was heard. It was slightly cold in the building, although the night was warm, with all the languorous, drowsy heat of tropic midsummer.

Truda was obviously in a state of panic and Beekman might have been infected therewith, but he shook himself together, deciding that action was the best remedy for the situation. He made a step toward the pile of stones. Truda clutched him more tenaciously than ever. She even threw her arms about him.

"Oh, don't go," she whispered. "It is taboo."

"Nonsense," answered Beekman, sinking his voice to meet hers, "there's nothing here to hurt us. Have I not told you of the power of my God?"

"Yes, yes, but He is far away in the sky; our God is here."

"Wherever He is He can protect me and you," he said as one may humor a child. He unclasped her arms and slipped his own arm about her waist, whereat she took some comfort. "Come, we shall see," he added.

He half led, half carried the girl toward the pile of stone until he stopped before it. The light from the moon came stronger. He saw the tall object, the top of which had been in the shadow now fully revealed.

"Why, it is a cross!" he exclaimed, under his breath, greatly surprised at this sacred emblem of religion.

"What is a cross?"

"The sign of my God. This is His house."

"Then your God and my God are the same," whispered the girl.

"I believe so. You see," he continued, "nothing has happened to us." He laid his hand on the altar, "this must have been a place where your people who came from beyond the sea worshipped God."

It was, indeed, obvious that this was the primitive church of those first settlers upon the island where they had performed their simple rites, the simulacrum of which in uncomprehended words of prayer had alone survived the centuries of isolation and separation from their kind.

Beekman marveled that he had not thought of it before; but who could have expected to find a Christian church on an unvisited island in the South Seas, even though it was obvious that some, at least, of the present denizens thereof were white people, or had white blood in their veins? That ruined tower-like structure topping the front gable, at which he had wondered, had evidently been a belfry, and perhaps it too had carried a cross. Well, that cross-like tower had fallen away, but here, on what was surely a rude altar, in a fair state of preservation, stood the rudely fashioned symbol of the faith, even though it was made of frailer, more perishable wood.

Beekman was not a religious man, but even an atheist might have succumbed to the influences of such a place. He felt the cross reverently with a tender touch, confirming his eyesight; and then, where old Kobo knelt uncomprehendingly, following the customs of the past, he reverently knelt down. He rested his hands on that altar and bowed his head to it. After a moment, awe-struck Truda followed his example and knelt by his side.

What did he pray knowingly? What did the woman pray ignorantly? The man, that he might have strength to be a clean man, still to cherish and be faithful to high ideals in a land of no ideals; to observe the laws of God in this place where there were no laws of man, to act honorably toward this sweet and trusting child by his side; to take no advantage of her ignorance, her innocence, her devotion. Yes, he prayed for strength, and he prayed for deliverance from the island, that he might take her back to her own kind, that he might add to the graces she naturally enjoyed the refinements and good things of a civilization which he alone, ragged, tattered castaway that he was, had enjoyed and knew the meaning of. And he did not forget to pray that his hands might be cleansed of the blood of man that was upon them.

The woman had not been taught to pray, that is, not meaningly. She knew of few material things for which to ask in that island so bountifully provided by nature, and the spiritual was still vague and voiceless in her heart; but for one thing she could petition whatever power there was above her, who somehow to her untutored mind seemed present and about her. She prayed that the man she loved might love her and use her well-the natural prayer of woman!

After a little time Beekman rose in better heart than he had been since he had been cast upon the island. He drew Truda to her feet, and there before the altar, confronting the cross, he kissed her, not with the passion and fire of the night before, or of the warm, languorous afternoons when they wandered amid flowers and blossoms 'neath groves of palm. There was something sacramental in the touch of his lips. There, that night, at that hour, in that temple so sacred to her, the girl became a woman. With quick apprehension she felt the difference which she could not explain.

"Your God is a very great God,", she whispered, breaking the seal of that kiss. "He shall be my God." She laid his hand upon her heart under the soft, sweet round of her immature, innocent breast. "I feel here that He has spoken."

"May His blessing be upon you, and may He deal with me as I with you," said Beekman, deeply moved.

"We must go," said the girl at last, her heart voicing the "amen" she knew not how to speak.

"Wait, I must examine these," returned the man, releasing her.

He bent toward the dark objects on the altar. The first touch of his hand told him what they were-books! The light was too dim for him to make out what books, yet as he lifted the cover and turned the leaves of the one on the right he decided that it was a printed volume. He examined the one on the left in the same way and decided that it was a manuscript volume. One would be the Bible, of course; the other, longer and thinner, less bulky, the manuscript volume that would tell the story.

He picked them both up and tucked them under his arm. Truda had told him that the church would not be entered until another month had passed and the full moon came again. He could replace them in good time. He must examine them at his leisure.

"Do you think it well to take those things from your God?" whispered the girl.

"One," said the man, "is His story. In it He tells us of Himself."

"And do those things speak?" she asked, wonderingly.

"To him who understands, yes."

"And do you understand?"

"Yes."

"But I cannot."

"I shall teach you. Come."

Quietly as they had come, they descended to the chamber of entrance and made their way without. They separated in the shadow of the church, and this time Beekman did not offer to kiss her; but the maiden took no discomfort or grief from that. She understood. He pressed her hand in farewell, and the warm splendid vigor of his clasp she carried away with her. Indeed, she lifted the hand that he had grasped to her cheek. She laid her head upon that hand when she gained her hut, where she soon fell asleep to dream of him.

He had got the precious books. He was consumed with curiosity and interest, but there was no light by which he could read them. He would not dare to stand out in the moonlight, which was bright enough at least to enable him to identify the books. Someone might see him. He must wait until the morning. He hid the books in a heap of dry fern and rushes that made his bed, and lay awake for a long time longing for the day.