The Child of the Dawn by Arthur Christopher Benson


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Page 45

As I said this, our guide and Amroth entered the cell. The man rose up
quickly, and drawing me apart, thanked me very heartily and with tears
in his eyes; and so we said farewell. When we were outside, I said to
the guide, "May I ask you one question? Would it be of use if I remained
here for a time to talk with that poor man? It seemed a relief to him to
open his heart, and I would gladly be with him and try to comfort him."

The guide shook his head kindly. "No," he said, "I think not. I
recognise your kindness very fully--but a soul like this must find the
way alone; and there is one who is helping him faster than any of us can
avail to do; and besides," he added, "he is very near indeed to his
release."

So we went to the door, and said farewell; and Amroth and I went
forward. Then I said to him as we went down through the terraced garden,
and saw the inmates wandering about, lost in dreams, "This must be a sad
place to live in, Amroth!"

"No, indeed," said he, "I do not think that there are any happier than
those who have the charge here. When the patients are in the grip of
this disease, they are themselves only too well content; and it is a
blessed thing to see the approach of doubt and suffering, which means
that health draws near. There is no place in all our realm where one
sees so clearly and beautifully the instant and perfect mercy of God,
and the joy of pain." And so we passed together out of the guarded gate.




XXIII


"Well," said Amroth, with a smile, as we went out into the forest, "I am
afraid that the last two visits have been rather a strain. We must find
something a little less serious; but I am going to fill up all your
time. You had got too much taken up with your psychology, and we must
not live too much on theory, and spin problems, like the spider, out of
our own insides; but we will not spend too much time in trudging over
this country, though it is well worth it. Did you ever see anything more
beautiful than those pine-trees on the slope there, with the blue
distance between their stems? But we must not make a business of
landscape-gazing like our friend Charmides! We are men of affairs, you
and I. Come, I will show you a thing. Shut your eyes for a minute and
give me your hand. Now!"

A sudden breeze fanned my face, sweet and odorous, like the wind out of
a wood. "Now," said Amroth, "we have arrived! Where do you think we
are?"

The scene had changed in an instant. We were in a wide, level country,
in green water-meadows, with a full stream brimming its grassy banks, in
willowy loops. Not far away, on a gently rising ground, lay a long,
straggling village, of gabled houses, among high trees. It was like the
sort of village that you may find in the pleasant Wiltshire countryside,
and the sight filled me with a rush of old and joyful memories.

"It is such a relief," I said, "to realise that if man is made in the
image of God, heaven is made in the image of England!"

"That is only how you see it, child," said Amroth. "Some of my own
happiest days were spent at Tooting: would you be surprised if I said
that it reminded me of Tooting?"

"I am surprised at nothing," I said. "I only know that it is all very
considerate!"

We entered the village, and found a large number of people, mostly
young, going cheerfully about all sorts of simple work. Many of them
were gardening, and the gardens were full of old-fashioned flowers,
blooming in wonderful profusion. There was an air of settled peace about
the place, the peace that on earth one often dreamed of finding, and
indeed thought one had found on visiting some secluded place--only to
discover, alas! on a nearer acquaintance, that life was as full of
anxieties and cares there as elsewhere. There were one or two elderly
people going about, giving directions or advice, or lending a helping
hand. The workers nodded blithely to us, but did not suspend their work.

"What surprises me," I said to Amroth, "is to find every one so much
occupied wherever we go. One heard so much on earth about craving for
rest, that one grew to fancy that the other life was all going to be a
sort of solemn meditation, with an occasional hymn."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Tue 23rd Dec 2025, 21:34