"Yes!" said the other, who never wasted words.
The Angel of the Gate looked the man over carefully. "His hands are dirty!" he said at length.
"Yes!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things; "he has not learned to keep them clean."
"And there is mud on his feet!"
"Yes, he will walk in the mire."
"And his clothes are torn, and stained with blood."
"Yes, he has been quarrelling with his brother and beating him."
At this the man found his voice and cried out, though he felt more afraid and foolish than ever, and his voice sounded high and thin, like that of a tiny child.
"I have no brother!" said the man.
The two Angels looked at each other.
"You see!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things. "I knew how it would be."
Then he turned to the man. "Run along back," he said, "and try to do better next time. I left the door open for you."
And in the shaded room, while the firelight whispered to the shadows in the corners, the doctor rose from the bedside, and spoke softly to the nurse.
"The crisis is past," he said, "he will live."
HELL GATE
Hell Gate clanged behind the youth, and those without stood and looked one upon another.
First came his friend, and said to the keeper of the gate:
"Let him out! he is young, and his work still to do. Who knows but he may amend, and do it yet?"
Next came his Love, and clasped the bars, and wept upon them.
"Let him out!" she cried. "We are too young to die, and without him I cannot live."
Last came his mother, for she had a long way to come.
"What is all this ado?" she said. "Let me in to him!" and she broke the bars and entered.
THE THORN
When the youth started, he passed through the Forbidden Wood, and wandered there, plucking and tasting the fruit, smelling the flowers, evil and sweet; and as he plucked and smelled, it chanced that a thorn entered his breast, for it lay open. He took little heed, for he was young, and the life strong in him; so the thorn made its way in, and presently was buried in the flesh; and he forgot it, for it gave him no hurt.
By and by he came out of that wood, and shook the dust of it from his feet, and set his face toward the mountains, for a voice told him that there he should find his life and his Love. And so it fell, for as he fared on, his Love came to meet him, and he knew her, and she him. Then each held out arms of longing, and embraced the other tenderly, speaking fond words; but when the maiden pressed her arms about the man, a pang shot through his breast, bitter as death; and he trembled, for he knew it for the piercing of the thorn.
The man set his teeth, that he might make no outcry, and then he looked at his Love: and see! she was snow-pale, and held her heart with both hands, as if in pain.
"What is it?" cried the man. "What hurts my Love?" and she answered, "I know not; a pang shot through my heart, bitter as death."
"Oh, Love, what like was the pang?" cried the man; and heard her words before she spoke; for she said, "Like the piercing of a thorn!"
THE SERPENT
Three boys were playing together in a field; and as they played, one passing by called to them: "Beware! in the corner of that field is a poisonous serpent, whose bite is death."
"Alas!" said one child. "How terrible, to think that anything evil should be in a place so lovely. Let me flee from it!" and he wept, and ran from the place.
"Why," said the second child, "should such a thing be here? what is the reason of it?" and he found him a safe place, and sat down to ponder on the matter.
The third child picked up a stone. "Show it to me!" he said.
IF THIS SHOULD BE
I
In the Place of Spirits, where many come seeking a home, and all who earn shall find one, a band of child-spirits played about their door, singing, and crowning one another with flowers. And as they played, there drifted by a gray Shape, and stayed beside the gate, and wrung its shadowy hands.
Said the eldest child to the Angel who was their guardian; "Dear, there is one seeking a home; shall we call her in?"
"Oh, hush! oh, hush!" said the Angel. "You may not speak to her."
"But," said the second child, "she stops at our gate, and gazes at us with mournful eyes. Let us call her in!"
"Oh, hush! oh, hush!" said the Angel. "You may not look at her."
"Nay!" cried the youngest; "but she holds out her arms, and makes a moan like the wind at night. Why may we not call her in?"
Then the Angel wept, for she had been a woman.