The Little Pilgrim: Further Experiences. / Stories of the Seen and the Unseen.

by Mrs. Oliphant

'Nay, my little sister,' said the watcher, 'but patience must have its perfect work; and for those who are coming help is secret. They must not see it nor know it, for the land of darkness is beyond hope. The Father will not force the will of any creature He has made, for He respects us in our nature, which is His image. And when a man will not, and will not till the day is over, what can be done for him? He is left to his will, and is permitted to do it as it seems good in his eyes. A man's will is great, for it is the gift of God. But the Lord, who cannot rest while one is miserable, still goes secretly to them, for His heart yearns after them. And by times they will see His face, or some thought of old will seize upon them. And some will say, "To perish upon the dark mountains is better than to live here." And I have seen,' said the watcher, 'that the Lord will go with them all the way—but secretly, so that they cannot see Him. And though it grieves His heart not to help, yet will He not,—for they have become the creatures of their own will, and by that must they attain.' She put out her hand to the new-comer and drew her to the side of the rocky wall, so that they felt the sweep of the wind in their faces; but were not driven before it. 'And come,' she said, 'for two of us together will be like a great light to those who are in the darkness. They will see us like a lamp, and it will cheer them, though they know not why we are here. Listen!' she cried. And the little Pilgrim, holding fast the hand of the watcher, listened and looked down upon the awful way; and underneath the sweep of the icy wind was a small sharp sound as of a stone rolling or a needle of rock that broke and fell, like the sounds that are in a wood when some creature moves, though too far off for footstep to sound. 'Listen!' said the watcher; and her face so shone with joy that the little Pilgrim saw it clearly, like the shining of the morning in the midst of the darkness. 'He comes!'

'Oh, sister!' she cried, 'is it he whom you love above all the rest?
Is it he?'

The watcher smiled and said, 'If it is not he, yet is it a brother; if it is not he now, yet his time will come. And in every one who passes, I hope to see his face; and the more that come, the more certain it is that he will come. And the time seems not long for the love I bear him. And it is for this that the Lord has so considered me. Listen! for some one comes.'

And there came to these watchers the strangest sight; for there flew past them while they gazed a man who seemed to be carried upon the sweep of the wind. In the midst of the darkness they could see the faint white in his face, with eyes of flame and lips set firm, whirled forward upon the wind, which would have dashed him against the rocks; but as he whirled past, he caught with his hand the needles of the opposite peaks, and was swung high over a great chasm, and landed upon a higher height, high over their heads. And for a moment they could hear, like a pulsation through the depths, the hard panting of his breath; then, with scarcely a moment for rest, they heard the sound of his progress onward, as if he did battle with the mountain, and his own swiftness carried him like another wind. It had taken less than a moment to sweep him past, quicker than the flight of a bird, as sudden as a lightning flash. The little Pilgrim followed him with her eager ears, wondering if he would leap thus into the country of light and take heaven by storm, or whether he would fall upon the heavenly hills, and lie prostrate in weariness and exhaustion, like him to whom she had ministered. She followed him with her ears, for the sound of his progress was with crashing of rocks and a swift movement in the air; but she was called back by the pressure of the hand of the watcher, who did not, like the little Pilgrim, follow him who thus rushed through space as far as there was sound or sight of him, but had turned again to the lower side, and was gazing once more, and listening for the little noises in the gulf below. The little Pilgrim remembered her friend's hope, and said softly, 'It was not he?' And the watcher clasped her hand again, and answered, 'It was a dear brother. I have sounded the silver bells for him; and soon we shall hear them answering from the heights above. And another time it will be he.' And they kissed each other because they understood each the other in her heart.

And then they talked together of the old life when all things began; and of the wonderful things they had learned concerning the love of the Father and the Son; and how all the world was held by them and penetrated through and through by threads of love, so that it could never fail. And the darkness seemed light round them; and they forgot for a little that the wind was not as a summer breeze. Then once more the hand of the watcher pressed that of her companion, and bade her hush and listen; and they sat together holding their breath, straining their ears. Then heard they faint sounds which were very different from those made by him who had been driven past them like an arrow from a bow,—first as of something falling, but very far away, and a faint sound as of a foot which slipped. The listeners did not say a word to each other; they sat still and listened, scarcely drawing their breath. The darkness had no voice; it could not be but that some traveller was there, though hidden deep, deep in the gloom, only betrayed by the sound. There was a long pause, and the watcher held fast the little Pilgrim's hand, and betrayed to her the longing in her heart; for though she was already blessed beyond all blessedness known on earth, yet had she not forgotten the love that had begun on earth, but was forevermore. She murmured to herself and said, 'If it is not he, it is a brother; and the more that come, the more sure it is that he will come. Little sister, is there one for whom you watch?'

'There is no one,' the Pilgrim said,—'but all.'

'And so care I for all,' cried the watcher; and she drew her companion with her to the edge of the abyss, and they sat down upon it low among the rocks to escape the rushing of the wind. And they sang together a soft song; 'For if he should hear us,' she said, 'it may give him courage.' And there they sat and sang; and the white of their garments and of their heavenly faces showed like a light in the deep gloom, so that he who was toiling upwards might see that speck above him, and be encouraged to continue upon his way.

Sometimes he fell, and they could hear the moan he made,—for every sound came upwards, however small and faint it might be,—and sometimes dragged himself along, so that they heard his movement up some shelf of rock. And as the Pilgrim looked, she saw other and other dim whitenesses along the ravines of the dark mountains, and knew that she was not the only one, but that many had come to watch and look for the coming of those who had been lost.

Time was as nothing to these heavenly watchers; but they knew how long and terrible were the moments to those upon the way. Sometimes there would be silence like the silence of long years; and fear came upon them that the wayfarer had turned back, or that he had fallen, and lay suffering at the bottom of some gulf, or had been swept by the wind upon some icy peak and dashed against the rocks. Then anon, while they listened and held their breath, a little sound would strike again into the silence; bringing back hope; and again and again all would be still. The little Pilgrim held her companion's hand; and the thought went through her mind that were she watching for one whom she loved above the rest, her heart would fail. But the watcher answered her as if she had spoken, and said, 'Oh, no, oh, no; for if it is not he, it is a brother; and the Lord give them joy!' But they sang no more, their hearts being faint with suspense and with eagerness to hear every sound.

Then in the great chill of the silence, suddenly, and not far off, came the sound of one who spoke. He murmured to himself and said, 'Who can continue on this terrible way? The night is black like hell, and there comes no morning. It was better in the land of darkness, for still we could see the face of man, though not God.' The muffled voice shook at that word, and then was still suddenly, as though it had been a flame and the wind had blown it out. And for a moment there was silence; until suddenly it broke forth once more,—