Christian fiction; Wingfold, Thomas (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
on the stormy water to find the Lord of Life, so walked I on the
still lake of fire, caring neither for life nor death. For my heart
was withered to the roots by the thought of the decay of her whom I
had loved; for would not then her very presence every hour be
causing me to forget the beauty that had once made me glad?--I had
walked some ten furlongs, and passed the middle of the lake, when
suddenly I bethought me that she would marvel whither I had gone,
and set out to seek me, and something might befall her, and I should
lose my rose ere its leaves had begun to drop. And I turned and
strode again in haste across the floor of black heat, broken and
seamed with red light. And lo! as I neared the midst of the lake, a
form came towards me, walking in the very footsteps I had left
behind me, nor had I to look again to know the gracious motion of my
beloved. And the black ice broke at her foot, and the fire shone up
on her face, and it was lovely as an angel of God, and the glow of
her love outshone the glow of the nether fire. And I called not to
stay her foot, for I judged that the sooner she was with me, the
sooner would she be in safety, for I knew how to walk thereon better
than she. And my heart sang a song within me in praise of the love
of woman, but I thought only of the love of my woman to me, whom the
fires of hell could not hold back from him who was worthy of her
love; and my heart sent the song up to my lips; but, as the first
word arose, sure itself a red bubble from the pit of glowing hell,
the black crust burst up between us, and a great hillock of
seething, slow-spouting, slow-falling, mad red fire arose. For a
moment or two the molten mound bubbled and wallowed, then sank--and
I saw not my wife. Headlong I plunged into the fiery pool at my
feet, and the clinging torture hurt me not, and I caught her in my
arms, and rose to the surface, and crept forth, and shook the fire
from mine eyes, and lo! I held to my bosom but as the fragment of a
cinder of the furnace. And I laughed aloud in my madness, and the
devils below heard me, and laughed yet again. O Age! O Decay! I
cried, see how I triumph over thee: what canst thou do to this? And
I flung the cinder from me into the pool, and plunged again into the
grinning fire. But it cast me out seven times, and the seventh time
I turned from it, and rushed out of the valley of burning, and threw
myself on the mountain-side in the moonlight, and awoke mad.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account