第5章

Theblankmighthavebeenanhouroracentury。Heknewonlythatomethinghadhappenedintheinterval。Whatiswashecouldnottell。

Hefoundgreatdifficultyincatchingthethreadofhisidentityagain。

Hefeltthathewashimself；butthetroublewastomakehisconnections，toverifyandplacehimself，toknowwhoandwherehewas。

Atlastitgrewclear。JohnWeightmanwassittingonastone，notfarfromaroadinastrangeland。

Theroadwasnotaformalhighway，fencedandgraded。Itwasmorelikeagreattravel-trace，wornbythousandsoffeetpassingacrosstheopencountryinthesamedirection。Downinthevalley，intowhichhecouldlook，theroadseemedtoformitselfgraduallyoutofmanyminorpaths；littlefootwayscomingacrossthemeadows，windingtracksfollowingalongbesidethestreams，faintlymarkedtrailsemergingfromthewoodlands。Butonthehillsidethethreadsweremorefirmlywovenintooneclearbandoftravel，thoughtherewerestillafewdimpathsjoiningithereandthere，asifpersonshadbeenclimbingupthehillbyotherwaysandhadturnedatlasttoseektheroad。

Fromtheedgeofthehill，whereJohnWeightmansat，hecouldseethetravelers，inlittlegroupsorlargercompanies，gatheringfromtimetotimebythedifferentpaths，andmakingtheascent。

Theywereallclothedinwhite，andtheformoftheirgarmentswasstrangetohim；itwaslikesomeoldpicture。Theypassedhim，groupaftergroup，talkingquietlytogetherorsinging；notmovinginhaste，butwithacertainairofeagernessandjoyasiftheyweregladtobeontheirwaytoanappointedplace。Theydidnotstaytospeaktohim，buttheylookedathimoftenandspoketooneanotherastheylooked；andnowandthenoneofthemwouldsmileandbeckonhimafriendlygreeting，sothathefelttheywouldlikehimtobewiththem。

Therewasquiteanintervalbetweenthegroups；andhefollowedeachofthemwithhiseyesafterithadpassed，blanchingthelongribbonoftheroadforalittletransientspace，risingandrecedingacrossthewide，billowyupland，amongtheroundedhillocksofaerialgreenandgoldandlilac，untilitcametothehighhorizon，andstoodoutlinedforamoment，atinycloudofwhitenessagainstthetenderblue，beforeitvanishedoverthehill。

Foralongtimehesattherewatchingandwondering。ItwasaverydifferentworldfromthatinwhichhismansionontheAvenuewasbuilt；anditlookedstrangetohim，butmostreal——asrealasanythinghehadeverseen。Presentlyhefeltastrongdesiretoknowwhatcountryitwasandwherethepeopleweregoing。

Hehadafaintpremonitionofwhatitmustbe，buthewishedtobesure。

Soherosefromthestonewherehewassitting，andcamedownthroughtheshortgrassandthelavenderflowers，towardapassinggroupofpeople。

Oneofthemturnedtomeethim，andheldouthishand。Itwasanoldman，underwhosewhitebeardandbrowsJohnWeightmanthoughthesawasuggestionofthefaceofthevillagedoctorwhohadcaredforhimyearsago，whenhewasaboyinthecountry。

"Welcome，"saidtheoldman。"Willyoucomewithus？"

"Whereareyougoing？"

"Totheheavenlycity，toseeourmansionsthere。"

"Andwhoarethesewithyou？"

"Strangerstome，untilalittlewhileago；Iknowthembetternow。

ButyouIhaveknownforalongtime，JohnWeightman。Don\'tyourememberyourolddoctor？"

"Yes，"hecried——"yes；yourvoicehasnotchangedatall。

I\'mgladindeedtoseeyou，DoctorMcLean，especiallynow。

Allthisseemsverystrangetome，almostoppressive。

Iwonderif——butmayIgowithyou，doyousuppose？"

"Surely，"answeredthedoctor，withhisfamiliarsmile；"itwilldoyougood。Andyoualsomusthaveamansioninthecitywaitingforyou——afineone，too——areyounotlookingforwardtoit？"

"Yes，"repliedtheother，hesitatingamoment；"yes——Ibelieveitmustbeso，althoughIhadnotexpectedtoseeitsosoon。

ButIwillgowithyou，andwecantalkbytheway。"

Thetwomenquicklycaughtupwiththeotherpeople，andallwentforwardtogetheralongtheroad。Thedoctorhadlittletotellofhisexperience，forithadbeenaplain，hardlife，uneventfullyspentforothers，andthestoryofthevillagewasverysimple。JohnWeightman\'sadventuresandtriumphswouldhavemadeafarricher，moreimposinghistory，fullofcontactswiththegreateventsandpersonagesofthetime。

Butsomehoworotherhedidnotcaretospeakmuchaboutit，walkingonthatwideheavenlymoorland，underthattranquil，sunlessarchofblue，inthatfreeairofperfectpeace，wherethelightwasdiffusedwithoutashadow，asifthespiritoflifeinallthingswereluminous。

TherewasonlyonepersonbesidesthedoctorinthatlittlecompanywhomJohnWeightmanhadknownbefore——anoldbookkeeperwhohadspenthislifeoveradesk，carefullykeepingaccounts——arusty，dulllittleman，patientandnarrow，whosewifehadbeenintheinsaneasylumfortwentyyearsandwhoseonlychildwasacrippleddaughter，forwhosecomfortandhappinesshehadtoiledandsacrificedhimselfwithoutstint。

Itwasasurprisetofindhimhere，ascare-freeandjoyfulastherest。

Thelivesofothersinthecompanywererevealedinbriefglimpsesastheytalkedtogether——amother，earlywidowed，whohadkeptherlittleflockofchildrentogetherandlaboredthroughhardandheavyyearstobringthemupinpurityandknowledge——aSisterofCharitywhohaddevotedherselftothenursingofpoorfolkwhowerebeingeatentodeathbycancer——aschoolmasterwhoseheartandlifehadbeenpouredintohisquietworkoftrainingboysforacleanandthoughtfulmanhood——amedicalmissionarywhohadgivenupabrilliantcareerinsciencetotakethechargeofahospitalindarkestAfrica——abeautifulwomanwithsilverhairwhohadresignedherdreamsofloveandmarriagetocareforaninvalidfather，andafterhisdeathhadmadeherlifealong，steadysearchforwaysofdoingkindnessestoothers——apoetwhohadwalkedamongthecrowdedtenementsofthegreatcity，bringingcheerandcomfortnotonlybyhissongs，butbyhiswiseandpatientworksofpracticalaid——aparalyzedwomanwhohadlainforthirtyyearsuponherbed，helplessbutnothopeless，succeedingbyamiracleofcourageinhersingleaim，nevertocomplain，butalwaystoimpartabitofjoyandpeacetoeveryonewhocamenearher。Allthese，andotherpersonslikethem，peopleoflittleconsiderationintheworld，butnowseeminglyallfullofgreatcontentmentandaninwardgladnessthatmadetheirstepslight，wereinthecompanythatpassedalongtheroad，talkingtogetherofthingspastandthingstocome，andsingingnowandthenwithclearvoicesfromwhichtheveilofageandsorrowwaslifted。

JohnWeightmanjoinedinsomeofthesongs——whichwerefamiliartohimfromtheiruseinthechurch——atfirstwithatouchofhesitation，andthenmoreconfidently。Forastheywentonhissenseofstrangenessandfearathisnewexperiencediminished，andhisthoughtsbegantotakeontheirhabitualassuranceandcomplacency。WerenotthesepeoplegoingtotheCelestialCity？Andwasnotheinhisrightplaceamongthem？Hehadalwayslookedforwardtothisjourney。