But for me, I trembled at the thought of that road. I feared the name, which was as the plunging of a sword into my inmost parts. All things could be borne but that. I dared not even think upon that name. To feel my hand in another man’s hand was much, but to be led into that awful presence, by awful ways, which none knew--how could I bear it? My spirits failed me, and my strength. My hand became loose in his hand: he grasped me still, but my hold failed, and ever with slower and slower steps I followed, while he seemed to acquire strength with every winding of the way. At length he said to me, looking back upon me, ‘I cannot stop: but your heart fails you. Shall I loose my hand and let you go?’ ‘I am afraid; I am afraid!’ I cried. ‘And I too am afraid; but it is better to suffer more and to escape than to suffer less and to remain.’ ‘Has it ever been known that one escaped? No one has ever escaped. This is our place,’ I said, ‘there is no other world.’ ‘There are other worlds--there is a world where every way leads to One who loves us still.’ I cried out with a great cry of misery and scorn. ‘There is no love!’ I said. He stood still for a moment and turned and looked at me. His eyes seemed to melt my soul. A great cloud passed over them, as in the pleasant earth a cloud will sweep across the moon; and then the light came out and looked at me again. For neither did he know. Where he was going all might end in despair and double and double pain. But if it were possible that at the end there should be found that for which he longed, upon which his heart was set! He said with a faltering voice--‘Among all whom I have questioned and seen there was but one who found the way. But if one has found it, so may I. If you will not come, yet let me go.’ ‘They will tear you limb from limb--they will burn you in the endless fires,’ I said. But what is it to be torn limb from limb, or burned with fire? There came upon his face a smile, and in my heart even I laughed to scorn what I had said. ‘If I were dragged every nerve apart, and every thought turned into a fiery dart--and that is so,’ he said; ‘yet will I go, if but, perhaps, I may see Love at the end.’ ‘There is no love!’ I cried again, with a sharp and bitter cry; and the echo seemed to come back and back from every side, No love! no love! till the man who was my friend faltered and stumbled like a drunken man; but afterwards he recovered strength and resumed his way.