“This day, before dawn, I ascended a hill and looked at the crowded Heaven.
And I said to my spirit,
When we become the enfolders of these orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of everything in them,
Shall we be filled and satisfied then?
And my spirit said, No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.”
North nodded. “That’s it! I’m out for that right enough, if it’s going. I don’t say, mind you, that I’m certain we don’t go on. I’m not such a fool. But, to my mind, all the evidence so far is the other way.”
“Have you ever tried to get evidence?”
“No. All the methods appear to me to be objectionable, very. Even over this—this possible sight of yours—I don’t feel keen on the idea that those who have gone are hanging round their old homes, round us who cannot cognize them.”
He spoke haltingly, as if expressing himself with difficulty. His unwillingness to discuss these matters again became evident.
“But surely time and space in the next world will not exist as we understand them here, and that must make an almost incalculable difference. And when you think that so many gave their lives for this world, isn’t it reasonable to think that the work for some of them may still be linked up with it? Do you remember when you were talking of the outlook at the present moment, and Lady Condor asked me what I thought of it? And I said we were not alone, that those who had died that things might be better, they with their added knowledge—guided—helped—you remember? Well, that wasn’t my own idea somehow. It came to me from somewhere else, quite suddenly, on the moment, as it were. And I had to say it—though I felt shy and uncomfortable. One does not speak of these things to all the world. But some one wanted me to say it—just then and there.”