ablishment," said Amroth with a
smile. "No, dear man, don't go with me any farther. We will part here,
and when we meet again we shall have some new stories to tell. Bless
you." He took his hand from my arm, caught up my hand, kissed it, said,
"There, that is for you," and disappeared smiling into the house.

A moment later there came the cry of a new-born child from the window
above. The doctor came out and went down the street; one of the women
joined him and walked with him. A few minutes later she returned with a
young and sturdy workman, looking rather anxious.

"It's all right," I heard her say, "it's a fine boy, and Annie is doing
well--she'll be about again soon enough."

They disappeared into the house, and I turned away.

XXXV

It is difficult to describe the strange emotions with which the
departure of Amroth filled me. I think that, when I first entered the
heavenly country, the strongest feeling I experienced was the sense of
security--the thought that the earthly life was over and done with, and
that there remained the rest and tranquillity of heaven. What I cannot
even now understand is this. I am dimly aware that I have lived a great
series of lives, in each of which I have had to exist blindly, not
knowing that my life was not bounded and terminated by death, and only
darkly guessing and hoping, in passionate glimpses, that there might be
a permanent life of the soul behind the life of the body. And yet, at
first, on entering the heavenly country, I did not remember having
entered it before; it was not familiar to me, nor did I at first recall
in memory that I had been there before. The earthly life seems to
obliterate for a time even the heavenly memory. But the departure of
Amroth swept away once and for all the sense of security. One felt of
the earthly life, indeed, as a busy man may think of a troublesome visit
he has to pay, which breaks across the normal current of his life, while
he anticipates with pleasure his return to the usual activities of home
across the interval of social distraction, which he does not exactly
desire, but yet is glad that it should intervene, if only for the
heightened sense of delight with which he will resume his real life. I
had been happy in heaven, though with periods of discontent and moments
of dismay. But I no longer desired a dreamful ease; I only wished
passionately to be employed. And now I saw that I must resign all
expectation of that. As so oft