The Little Pilgrim: Further Experiences.: Stories of the Seen and the Unseen.Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Religion
The Little Pilgrim: Further Experiences.: Stories of the Seen and the Unseen.
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Death -- Fiction
And thus once more we went on. On the right hand was that city, growing
ever clearer, with noble towers rising up to the sky, and battlements and
lofty roofs, and behind a yellow clearness, as of a golden sunset. My
heart drew me there; it sprang up in my breast and sang in my ears, Come,
and come. Myself invited me to this new place as to a home. The others
were wretched, but this will be happy,--delights and pleasures will be
there. And before us the way grew dark with storms, and there grew
visible among the mists a black line of mountains, perpendicular cliffs,
and awful precipices, which seemed to bar the way. I turned from that
line of gloomy heights, and gazed along the path to where the towers
stood up against the sky. And presently my hand dropped by my side, that
had been held in my companion's hand; and I saw him no more.
I went on to the city of the evening light. Ever and ever, as I proceeded
on my way, the sense of haste and restless impatience grew upon me, so
that I felt myself incapable of remaining long in a place, and my desire
grew stronger to hasten on and on; but when I entered the gates of the
city this longing vanished from my mind. There seemed some great festival
or public holiday going on there. The streets were full of
pleasure-parties, and in every open place (of which there were many) were
bands of dancers, and music playing; and the houses about were hung with
tapestries and embroideries and garlands of flowers. A load seemed to be
taken from my spirit when I saw all this,--for a whole population does
not rejoice in such a way without some cause. And to think that after
all I had found a place in which I might live and forget the misery and
pain which I had known, and all that was behind me, was delightful to my
soul. It seemed to me that all the dancers were beautiful and young,
their steps went gayly to the music, their faces were bright with smiles.
Here and there was a master of the feast, who arranged the dances and
guided the musicians, yet seemed to have a look and smile for new-comers
too. One of these came forwards to meet me, and received me with a
welcome, and showed me a vacant place at the table, on which were
beautiful fruits piled up in baskets, and all the provisions for a meal.
'You were expected, you perceive,' he said. A delightful sense of
well-being came into my mind. I sat down in the sweetness of ease after
fatigue, of refreshment after weariness, of pleasant sounds and sights
after the arid way. I said to myself that my past experiences had been a
mistake, that this was where I ought to have come from the first, that
life here would be happy, and that all intruding thoughts must soon
vanish and die away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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