ror.

"A journey? Where?"

I can tell no man what his eyes said. I understood, I cannot tell how; and with trembling all my limbs seemed to drop out of joint and my face grow moist with terI could not speak any more than he, but with my lips shaped, How? The awful thought made a tremor in the very air around. He shook his head slowly as he looked at me his eyes, all circled with deep lines, looking out of caves of anguish and of anxiety; and then I remembered how he had said, and I had scoffed at him, that the way he sought was one he did not know. I had dropped his hands in my fear; and yet to leave him seemed dragging the heart out of my breast, for none but he had spoken to me like a brother-had taken my hand and thanked me. I looked out across the plain, and the roads seemed tranquil and still. There was a coolness in the air. It looked like evening, as if some where in those far distances there might be a place where a weary soul might rest. Then I looked behind me, and thought what I had suffered, and remembered the lazar-house and the voices that cried and the hands that beat against the door; and also the horrible quiet of the room in which I lived, and the eyes which looked in at me and turned my gaze upon myself. Then I rushed after him, for he had turned to go on upon his way; and caught at his clothes, crying-"Behold me, behold me! I will go too!"

He reached me his hand and went on without a word; and I

ing in his step, following like his shadow. What it was to walk with another, and follow, and be at one, is more than I can tell; but likewise my heart failed me for fear, for dread of what we might encounter, and of hearing that name, or entering that presence, which was more terrible than all torture. I wondered how it could be that one should willingly face that which raked the soul, and how he had learned that it was possible, and where he had heard of the way. And as we went on I said no word-for he began to seem to me a being of another kind, a figure full of awe; and I followed as one might follow a ghost. Where would he go? Were we not fixed here for ever, where our lot had been cast and there were still many other great cities where there might be much to see, and something to distract the mind, and where it might be more possible to live than it had proved in the other places. There might be no tyrants there, nor cruelty, nor horrible noises, nor dreadful silence. wards the right hand, across the plain, there seemed to rise out of the grey distance a cluster of towers and roofs like another habitable place-and who could tell that something better might not be there? Surely everything could not turn to torture and misery. I dragged on behind him, with all these thoughts hurrying through my mind. He was going-I dare to say it now, though I did not dare then-to seek out a way to God; to try, if it was possible, to find the road that led back-that road which had been open once to all. for me, I trembled at the thought of that road. I feared the name, which was as the plunging of a sword into my inmost parts. All

To

But

name.

things could be borne but that. I dared not even think upon that To feel my hand in another man's hand was much, but to be led into that awful presence, by awful ways, which none knew -how could I bear it? My spirits failed me, and my strength. My hand became loose in his hand: he grasped me still, but my hold failed, and ever with slower and slower steps I followed, while he seemed to acquire strength with every winding of the way. At length he said to me, looking back upon me, "I cannot stop: but your heart fails you. Shall I loose my hand and let you go?" "I am afraid; I am afraid!" I cried.

"And I too am afraid; but it is better to suffer more and to escape than to suffer less and to remain."

"Has it ever been known that one escaped? No one has ever escaped. This is our place," I said, "there is no other world."

"There are other worlds-there is a world where every way leads to One who loves us still."

I cried out with a great cry of misery and scorn. "There is no love!" I said.

He stood still for a moment and turned and looked at me. His eyes seemed to melt my soul. A great cloud passed over them, as in the pleasant earth a cloud will sweep across the moon; and then the light came out and looked at me again. For neither did he know. Where he was going all might end in despair and double and double pain. But if it were possible that at the end there should be found that for which he longed, upon which his heart was set ! He said with a faltering voice-" Among all whom I have questioned and seen there was but one who found the way. But if

one has found it, so may I. If you will not come, yet let me go."

"They will tear you limb from limb-they will burn you in the endless fires," I said. But what is it to be torn limb from limb, or burned with fire? There came upon his face a smile, and in my heart even I laughed to scorn what I had said.

"If I were dragged every nerve apart, and every thought turned into a fiery dart-and that is so," he said; "yet will I go, if but, perhaps, I may see Love at the end."

"There is no love!" I cried again, with a sharp and bitter cry; and the echo seemed to come back and back from every side, No love! no love! till the man who was my friend faltered and stumbled like a drunken man; but afterwards he recovered strength and resumed his way.

And thus once more we went on. On the right hand was that city, growing ever clearer, with noble towers rising up to the sky, and battlements and lofty roofs, and behind a yellow clearness, as of a golden sunset. My heart drew me there; it sprang up in my breast and sang in my ears, Come, and Come. Myself invited me to this new place as to a home. The others were wretched, but this will be happy: delights and pleasures will be there. And before us the way grew dark with storms, and there grew visible among the mists a blank line of mountains, perpendicular cliffs and awful precipices, which seemed to bar the way. turned from that line of gloomy heights, and gazed along the path to where the towers stood up against the sky. And presently my hand dropped to my side, that had been held in my companion's hand; and I saw him no more.

I

I went on to the city of the evening light. Ever and ever, as I

proceeded on my way, the sense of haste and restless impatience grew upon me, so that I felt myself incapable of remaining long in a place, and my desire grew stronger to hasten on and on; but when I entered the gates of the city this longing vanished from my There seemed some great festival or public holiday going on there. The streets were full of pleasure-parties, and in every open place (of which there were many) were bands of dancers, and music playing; and the houses about were hung with tapestries and embroideries and garlands of flowers. A load seemed to be taken from my spirit when I saw all this -for a whole population does not rejoice in such a way without some cause. And to think that, after all, I had found a place in which I might live and forget the misery and pain which I had known, and all that was behind me, was delightful to my soul. It seemed to me that all the dancers were beautiful and young, their steps went gaily to the music, their faces were bright with smiles. Here and there was a master of the feast, who arranged the dances and guided the musicians, yet seemed to have a look and smile for new-comers too. One of these came forward to meet me, and received me with a welcome, and showed me a vacant place at a table, on which were beautiful fruits piled up in baskets, and all the provisions for a meal. "You were expected, you perceive," he said. A delightful sense of wellbeing came into my mind. I sat down in the sweetness of ease after fatigue, of refreshment after weariness, of pleasant sounds and sights after the arid way. I said to my self that my past experiences had been a mistake, that this was where I ought to have come from the

first, that life here would be happy, and that all intruding thoughts must soon vanish and die away.

After I had rested, I strolled about, and entered fully into the pleasures of the place. Wherever I went, through all the city, there was nothing but brightness and pleasure, music playing and flags waving, and flowers and dancers and everything that was most gay. I asked several people whom I met what was the cause of the rejoicing; but either they were too much occupied with their own pleasure, or my question was lost in the hum of merriment, the sound of the instruments and of the dancers' feet. When I had seen as much as I desired of the pleasure out of doors, I was taken by some to see the interiors of houses, which were all decorated for this festival, whatever it was lighted up with curious varieties of lighting, in tints of different colours. The doors and windows were all open, and whosoever would could come in from the dance or from the laden tables, and sit down where they pleased and rest, always with a pleasant view out upon the streets, so that they should lose nothing of the spectacle. And the dresses, both of women and men, were beautiful in form and colour, made in the finest fabrics, and affording delightful combinations to the eye. The pleasure which I took in all I saw and heard was enhanced by the surprise of it, and by the aspect of the places from which I had come, where there was no regard to beauty nor anything lovely or bright. Before my arrival here I had come in my thoughts to the conclusion that life had no brightness in these regions, and that whatever occupation or study there might be, pleasure had ended and was over, and everything that

"Yet pleasure requires it," I said, “as much as I was about to say pain; but why should one speak of pain in a place given up to pleasure? She smiled faintly and shook her head again. All her movements were languid and faint; her eyelids drooped over her eyes. Yet, when I turned to her, she made an effort to smile. "I think you are also tired," I said.

At this she roused herself a little. "We must not say so: nor do I say so. Pleasure is very exacting. It demands more of you than anything else. One must be always ready"

"For what?"

"To give enjoyment, and to receive it." There was an effort in her voice to rise to this sentiment. but it fell back into weariness again.

"I hope you receive as well as give."

The lady turned her eyes to me with a look which I cannot forget, and life seemed once more to be roused within her. But not the life of pleasure: her eyes were full of loathing, and fatigue, and

"Are you

disgust, and despair. so new to this place," she said, "and have not learned even yet what is the height of all misery and all weariness: what is worse than pain and trouble, more

dreadful than the lawless streets and the burning mines, and the torture of the great hall and the misery of the lazar-house

"Oh, lady," I said, "have you been there ?"

She answered me with her eyes alone; there was no need of more. "But pleasure is more terrible than all," she said; and I knew in my heart that what she said was true.

There is no record of time in that place. I could not count it by day or nights but soon after this it happened to me that the dances and the music became no more than a dizzy maze of sound and sight, which made my brain whirl round and round; and I too, loathed what was spread on the table, and the soft couches, and the garlands, and the fluttering flags and ornaments. To sit for ever at a feast, to see for ever the merry-makers turn round and round, to hear in your ears for ever the whirl of the music, the laughter, the cries of pleasure! There were some who went on and on, and never seemed to tire; but to me the endless round came at last to be a torture from which I could not escape. Finally, I could distinguish nothing.

neither what I heard nor what I saw and only a consciousness of something intolerable buzzed and echoed in my brain. I longed for the quiet of the place I had left; I longed for the noise in the streets, and the hubbub and tumult of my first experiences. Anything, anything rather than this! I said to myself; and still the dancers turned, the music sounded, the bystanders smiled, and everything went on and on. My eyes grew weary