The old man’s soul was shaken within him. He roused himself and called out across the cloud:
“What ails you, my child?”
“I am here, grandfather,” answered Quest. “A great light lifted me up out of the well-spring and brought me here. So far have I come; but they won’t let me into the Castle, because I have sinned against you.”
Tears ran down the old man’s cheeks. His hands and heart went out to caress his dear child, to comfort him, to help him, to set his darling free.
Careful and Bluster looked at their grandfather, but his face was altogether changed. It was ashen, it was haggard, and not at all like the face of a living man.
“The old man will die of these terrors,” whispered the brothers to each other.
But the old man drew himself up to his full height, and already he was moving away from them, when he looked back once more and said:
“Go home, children, back to the glade, since you are forgiven. Live and enjoy in all righteousness what shall fall to your part. But I go to help him to whom has been given the best part at the greatest cost.”
Old Witting’s voice was quite faint, but he stood before them upright as a dart.
Bluster and Careful looked at one another. Had their grandfather gone crazy, that he thought of walking across the clouds when he had no breath even for speech?