“I love this place too,” observed Deborah. “Even to the wind and the glittering frost crystals. But when we turn and look toward the Silent Forest I need to hold you very tight. It makes my heart ache, and the blackness sticks. Would God it could be turned to a garden of Summer Roses!” And then Plucritus, Prince of the Powers of Evil, turned and looked at her and laughed. And on his finger gleamed the _opal_ ring. Ting! Ting! the magic music and the magic fire! Then another bitter cry and all was still. END OF PART I PART II HELL CHAPTER I [The want of the author’s revising hand is here evident. There is no literary link between this part of the story and “Earth.” The reader will, however, perceive that it is Genius who is now telling his experiences to Deborah. Where Deborah is does not seem quite clear. The concluding passages of the last chapter in “Earth” suggest her death. Genius presently alludes to her “lost soul in the wilderness,” so that apparently she is in a kind of Purgatory, in close communication with Genius. The connection between Genius and Deborah is exceedingly intimate throughout, and as we have the author’s own word that Deborah goes to Heaven, it may be presumed that she is there entirely merged in Genius. At any rate she does not reappear in person after “Earth.” We have the author’s own word that Deborah represents herself. Deborah probably symbolises the human, Genius the mental and spiritual element in the personality of the author; some confirmation of which may be found in the clearly-expressed assertion of the dual personality of the Saviour (in “Heaven”)—namely, as Jesus in His human aspect, as Christ in His spiritual. With regard to Plucritus and Virginius, the conjecture may be hazarded that the former embodies Deborah’s lower tendencies, the latter her higher soul.—ED. NOTE.] You, Deborah, remember the summer evening when I left you. It was no more pleasure to me than you, though I cannot say that then the pain which I experienced equalled yours. The force which parted us, the first time for so many years, was stronger than my own. For I had made a bet upon the book, and by the bet I sacrificed my ring, the only safeguard I possessed. Between two forces, Good and Evil, I had stood alone, leaning to one who ever faced me cold and silently. Time and again I tried to break the weary barrier down, and in you that generated feeble efforts unto prayer. I had followed your lost soul about the wilderness, sprinkling flowers upon the barren ground, and unripe fruit, which withered. But ever like the thirsty wanderer I looked in search of fruitful soil. Good and Evil stalked with me all the time side by side, the one laughing, jesting all the way, the other silent, almost wordless. Mirage followed mirage, till at last the Angel said, “Dig for the well.”