Lilith

Noon was near. I went up the stairs to the dumb, shadowy roof. I closed behind me the door into the wooden
chamber, and turned to open the door out of a dreary world.
I left the chamber with a heart of stone. Do what I might, all was fruitless. I pulled the chains; adjusted and
re−adjusted the hood; arranged and re−arranged the mirrors; no result followed. I waited and waited to give
the vision time; it would not come; the mirror stood blank; nothing lay in its dim old depth but the mirror
opposite and my haggard face.
I went back to the library. There the books were hateful to me−−for I had once loved them.
That night I lay awake from down−lying to uprising, and the next day renewed my endeavours with the
mystic door. But all was yet in vain. How the hours went I cannot think. No one came nigh me; not a sound
from the house below entered my ears. Not once did I feel weary−−only desolate, drearily desolate.
I passed a second sleepless night. In the morning I went for the last time to the chamber in the roof, and for
the last time sought an open door: there was none. My heart died within me. I had lost my Lona!
Was she anywhere? had she ever been, save in the mouldering cells of my brain? "I must die one day," I
thought, "and then, straight from my death−bed, I will set out to find her! If she is not, I will go to the Father
and say−−`Even thou canst not help me: let me cease, I pray thee!'"
CHAPTER XLIV. THE WAKING
The fourth night I seemed to fall asleep, and that night woke indeed. I opened my eyes and knew, although all
was dark around me, that I lay in the house of death, and that every moment since there I fell asleep I had
been dreaming, and now first was awake. "At last!" I said to my heart, and it leaped for joy. I turned my eyes;
Lona stood by my couch, waiting for me! I had never lost her!−−only for a little time lost the sight of her!
Truly I needed not have lamented her so sorely!
It was dark, as I say, but I saw her: SHE was not dark! Her eyes shone with the radiance of the Mother's, and
the same light issued from her face−−nor from her face only, for her death−dress, filled with the light of her
body now tenfold awake in the power of its resurrection, was white as snow and glistering. She fell asleep a
girl; she awoke a woman, ripe with the loveliness of the life essential. I folded her in my arms, and knew that
I lived indeed.
"I woke first!" she said, with a wondering smile.
"You did, my love, and woke me!"
"I only looked at you and waited," she answered.
Lilith
The candle came floating toward us through the dark, and in a few moments Adam and Eve and Mara were
with us. They greeted us with a quiet good−morning and a smile: they were used to such wakings!
"I hope you have had a pleasant darkness!" said the Mother.
"Not very," I answered, "but the waking from it is heavenly."
"It is but begun," she rejoined; "you are hardly yet awake!"
"He is at least clothed−upon with Death, which is the radiant garment of Life," said Adam.
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