Beyond The Great Oblivion | Page 8

his back against the bole of the great oak, encircled Beatrice
with his arm.
Her beautiful dear head rested in the hollow of his throat; her warm, fragrant hair
caressed his cheek; he felt the wholesome strength and sweetness of this woman whom
he loved; and in his eyes--unseen by her--tears welled and gleamed in the firelight.
Beatrice watched, like a contented child, the dancing showers of sparks that rose,
wavering and whirling in complex sarabands--sparks red as passion, golden as the
unknown future of their dreams. From the river they heard the gentle lap-lap-lapping of
the waves along the shore. All was rest and peace and beauty; this was Eden once
again--and there was no serpent to enter in.
Presently Stern spoke.
"Dear," said he, "do you know, I'm a bit puzzled in some ways, about--well, about night
and day, and temperature, and gravitation, and a number of little things like that. Puzzled.
We're facing problems here that we don't realize fully as yet."
"Problems? What problems, except to make our home, and--and live?"
"No, there's more to be considered than just that. In the first place, although I have no
timepiece, I'm moderately certain the day and night are shorter now than they used to be
before the smash-up. There must be a difference of at least half an hour. Just as soon as I
can get around to it, I'll build a clock, and see. Though if the force of gravity has changed,
too, that, of course, will change the time of vibration of any pendulum, and so of course
will invalidate my results. It's a hard problem, right enough."
"You think gravitation has changed?"
"Don't you notice, yourself, that things seem a trifle lighter--things that used to be heavy
to lift are now comparatively easy?"
"M-m-m-m-m--I don't know. I thought maybe it was because I was feeling so much
stronger, with this new kind of outdoor life."
"Of course, that's worth considering," answered Stern, "but there's more in it than that.
The world is certainly smaller than it was, though how, or why, I can't say. Things are
lighter, and the time of rotation is shorter. Another thing, the pole-star is certainly five
degrees out of place. The axis of the earth has been given an astonishing twist, some way
or other.
"And don't you notice a distinct change in the climate? In the old days there were none of

these huge, palm-like ferns growing in this part of the world. We had no such gorgeous
butterflies. And look at the new varieties of flowers--and the breadfruit, or whatever it is,
growing on the banks of the Hudson in the early part of June!
"Something, I tell you, has happened to the earth, in all these centuries; something big!
Maybe the cause of it all was the original catastrophe; who knows? It's up to us to find
out. We've got more to do than make our home, and live, and hunt for other people--if
any are still alive. We've got to solve these world--problems; we've got work to do, little
girl. Work--big work!"
"Well, you've got to rest now, anyhow," she dictated. "Now, stop thinking and planning,
and just rest! Till your wound is healed, you're going to keep good and quiet."
Silence fell again between them. Then, as the east brightened with the approach of the
moon, she sang the song he loved best--"Ave Maria, Gratia Plena"--in her soft, sweet
voice, untrained, unspoiled by false conventions. And Stern, listening, forgot his
problems and his plans; peace came to his soul, and rest and joy.
The song ended. And now the moon, with a silent majesty that shamed human speech,
slid her bright silver plate up behind the fret of trees on the far hills. Across the river a
shimmering path of light grew, broadening; and the world beamed in holy beauty, as on
the primal night.
And their souls drank that beauty. They were glad, as never yet. At last Stern spoke.
"It's more like a dream than a reality, isn't it?" said he. "Too wonderful to be true. Makes
me think of Alfred de Musset's 'Lucie.' You remember the poem?
"'Un soir, nous etions seuls, J'etais assis pres d'elle . ..'"
Beatrice nodded.
"Yes, I know!" she whispered. "How could I forget it? And to think that for a thousand
years the moon's been shining just the same, and nobody--"
"Yes, but is it the same?" interrupted Stern suddenly, his practical turn of mind always
reasserting itself. "Don't you see a difference? You remember the old-time face in the
moon, of course. Where is it now? The moon always presented only one side, the same
side, to us in the old days. How about it now? If I'm not mistaken, things have shifted up
there.