But now--Miriam cursed for “lifting the weight of the fig” on the day that she loved? For moving a bench in her home, or drying his coat beside the fire? He pressed nearer, with a mighty hunger to hear of the real God, who loved and did not hate His world. The maimed and the halt and the devil-possessed weltering there snarled at Obil, “Here, you lusty one! Get back! Nothing is the matter with you!” For indeed his clear eyes were velvet and full of fire; his strong neck was like a column; his shoulders were massive as a good piece of gunwale timber out of Lebanon. But Obil did not heed. A stern voice rose insistent in his soul: “Go, and delay not! The hour has come! Wilt thou avenge not the life of thy son?” But with that horrible trembling upon him the man Obil stood. And the Lord bent his gaze upon Obil,--a gaze that was shorter than breath; yet it lifted his minutest past out from its veiling haze and pushed it before Obil’s agonized consciousness; all his failures, mistakes, misunderstandings, selfishness, blasphemies; all his cruelties and crimes, and the one long savage purpose to kill,--all arose, black, intolerable, before the flaming purity of the gaze of the Lord. If the earth could only open to receive him in safe darkness and oblivion! But the earth did not answer his agony. Then the eyes of the World-Brother looked into his, deep, tender, glowing. “Come, follow Me! Hate no more, but love, and share My joy!” said that burning Look. Back the soul of Obil answered, in unspeakable longing, out of that horrible trembling: “Thou who forgivest sins, canst thou forgive the black sins of Obil--even of Obil? So will I follow thee forever, blessed Son of God!” Then quicker than comes the breath, the eyes of the Lord beamed upon him in immeasurable welcome, infinite forgiveness; and the man Obil knew that the compact was made, and the covenant was sure. Strange pity and love for these hideous beings around him suddenly streamed into his soul. Were they not God’s children? The Blessed One had said it, and it must be true. A little shriveled child lay half crushed among the groaning heaps at his feet, waiting its turn. He looked down in that wondrous moment and knew that he loved this little wretched thing with naked, knotted, palsied limbs,--he, Obil! Tenderly he lifted it into his arms, and he laid it in the welcoming arms of the Lord. And again the eyes of Obil met the deep eyes of the World-Brother looking into his, as one should say, in full gladness, “Yea, now we are Comrades!” Then turned away Obil in pity, to make room, and the cripples muttered, “It is good that he goes! What has the Master to do with him!” He went forth, not knowing whither, but only that go where he would, he was always to be, every moment, within the circumference of that mighty Love.