Page:Marie Corelli - the writer and the woman (IA mariecorelliwrit00coat).pdf/193



"Oh, God! Let me write—write—while I can! Let me yet hold fast the thread which fastens me to earth,—give me time—time before I drift out, lost in yonder blackness and flame! Let me write for others the awful Truth, as I see it,—there is No death! None—none! I cannot die! Let me write on,—write on with this dead fleshly hand, one moment more time, dread God!  one moment more to write the truth,—the terrible truth of Death whose darkest secret, Life, is unknown to men! To my despair and terror,—to my remorse and agony, I live!—oh, the unspeakable misery of this new life! And worst of all,—God whom I doubted, God whom I was taught to deny, this wronged, blasphemed and outraged God ! And I could have found Him had I chosen,—this knowledge is forced upon me as I am torn from hence,—it is shouted at me by a thousand wailing voices! too late!—too late!—the scarlet wings beat me downward,—these strange half-shapeless forms close round and drive me onward to a further darkness,  amid wind and fire! Serve me, dead hand, once more ere I depart, my tortured spirit must seize and compel you to write down this thing unnamable, that earthly eyes may read, and earthly souls take timely warning! I know at last I have loved!—whom I have chosen, whom I have worshiped! Oh, God, have mercy! I know who claims my worship now, and drags me into yonder rolling world of flame! his name is "

Here the manuscript ends,—incomplete and broken off abruptly,—and there is a blot on the last sentence as though the pen had been violently