"Speak to me," cried Eric. "I am half mad with the longing to hear a human voice. Tell me, if thou canst, who are these silent ones that dog my steps, and make these mountains horrible to me? Fain would I be rid of them!"

He turned to look behind him and there they were, close upon his footsteps, huddled together on the narrow shelf he had just pa.s.sed; and all of them looked at him with hungry, expectant eyes; and yet through their bodies the rocks could be distinctly seen. It was a grim sight!

The old man did not reply, but turned his head towards the silent apparitions and scrutinized them long and earnestly, then a slow smile broke over his face.

At last he spoke:

"Be not hard upon those that are dead, my son; these here find no peace because they did not receive a holy burial, nor were prayers said over their silent hearts; they felt thy coming, so they have arisen from where they lay in waiting, to follow thee. Let thy heart be soft unto them. Their presence around thee speaks in thy favour, for they try to follow only those whose conscience is without stain, for those alone can help them whose lives have been pure."

"Who are they?" asked the young man, and the old one answered:

"They are the restless souls of those who died here amongst the mountains. They all had hopes in their hearts when they started, and dreams or ambitions; each thought himself strong enough to scale these cruel heights, but they dropped down on the way; few, very few, ever reach the top. They lose courage or weary and try to turn back; but it is difficult to go back for those who have started on these paths that lead so high."

"Tell me, O wise man," cried the youth, "what mountains are these, and why did I feel that I must try to ascend them?"

"They are called the mountains of Life, my son. For some they bear also the name of the mountains of Temptation; for others they mean Toil; for others Trouble; for some they are named Redemption, and for the fewest they are called the mountains of Attainment."

"For me what shall they be called, my father?"

"That remains to be seen, my boy," responded the solemn voice.

"Tarry awhile beside me and I shall tell thee a few things that may be of use to thee. Thy fair face pleases me, and I wish thee well. But I am old, and my voice has no more the force as of a river in spring-time when the snows have melted; it is more like a sluggish stream over which a thick sheet of ice has been laid. But sit thee down close by me that I need not raise it overmuch."

So saying he drew his cloak away, making room for Eric on the rock where he was resting. The waiting shapes had become fainter, and were like torn pieces of mist that had caught upon the rocks.

"But before all else, I pray thee, tell me," said Eric, "why thou sayest these shadows have awaited my coming; and why thou dost not thyself lead them to peace? Thou who art so wise?"

The venerable face turned to the young one with a sad smile, and the old solemn voice answered in a low tone, "To be wise is not the same as to be good. Long ago, in the days of my youth, and later also in the years of my manhood, I was a great sinner, and many a dark unavowed act have I committed. But wise I always was, and even magic have I understood.

"There comes a time, my son, when the heart longs for peace; the white peace of solitude. Amongst men it could never be found, so I came up here; but that was only after my head had bent beneath the snow of age, after I had tasted all fruits both bitter and sweet; and this I tell thee: few are worth the eating. Yet thou shalt also eat of many; but have a care, I pray thee, and grasp not those that were best left untouched; and yet? and yet?

"When I look back I know it all had some meaning behind it--something that was but a link of one long chain, and the chain is so long that the links are but of small importance, although each link deems itself the one which holds all the chain together; and it is better it should be so, because the long chain needs each separate link. My talk is dark to thee," added the old man, laying his hand on Eric's.

"Forgive an old man whose thoughts ramble along; seest thou, up here in this wild solitude amongst the clouds and eagles, one learns to look down upon things and to realize their value; but it is useless to begin such knowledge too soon, for we, the weary ones, need all thy joy, all thy careless happiness, we need thy efforts, thy hopes, thy dreams, thy tears; none are wasted; they all go to make one great whole! Life is long and yet it is short, and many roads there are, but they all, without exception, lead to the same end. I am very near that end now; some reach it sooner than I. I know not what thou seekest, but all men are running after the same thing, though they call it by different names, not knowing that they can grasp but its shadow, because the thing itself is G.o.d's.

"I have given it a name. I call it Happiness; but truly this I can tell thee: men know not when they have it ... they see it before them, and then they turn round and they see it far behind ... but whilst it is theirs they are blind. Dark are my words to thee, but I love thee the more, because I read within thy eyes that all I am saying is without sense to thee, dear beginner of Life."

"But thou hast not told me," queried Eric, "why these phantoms hope to find salvation through me, and why with thy great wisdom thou canst do less for them than I with my foolish youth?"

Sadly the old man replied:

"Because, my son, youth and innocence have a strength that all the wisdom from over the seven seas cannot equal. Indeed, we who have lived and now look back, are far more willing to stretch out our hands in help; our hearts are larger, our patience greater, our understanding deeper; but it has thus been decreed that all this cannot be weighed against one little drop of thy pure innocence or of the faith thou hast, that removeth mountains."

The old head bowed itself over the clasped hands, and on the long grey locks lay a mist that was silvery and l.u.s.treless, as if some one had breathed over a mirror.

The sad, tired eyes gazed with a far-off look into s.p.a.ce, following forgotten visions of long ago.

There was a deep silence which the young man did not try to break. He bowed in awe before this gaunt old figure, and longed to hear more, to drink in the wise words that fell from his lips.

Although many were quite incomprehensible to him, his instinct told him that he could learn much wisdom if he listened with all his soul.

Strange it was that such a man should call himself a sinner when such a delightful peace filled Eric's whole being as he sat there close beside him.

The old man turned his head and looked into the young man's eyes.

"Fair thou art in thy glorious untouched youth. I did not hope to look again on so good a sight. I wish I could give thee some of my wisdom to keep thee from harm, but a loving, pure heart is also a shield, perhaps even better than any I could give thee; and yet when old age lifts its eyes to look upon youth, and sees it beautiful, a prayer comes to its lips that it may remain thus unsoiled for ever!

"Thou must go forth without fear; and have patience, dear youth, with those quiet followers of thine. If thou art strong enough thou mayest lead them to peace; for this I must tell thee: thy way will be hard and long till thou reachest the end which is thy desire; but by the love of my snowy hair I entreat thee climb to the highest summit, let not thy soul be satisfied till thou hast scaled the last, steepest peak.

"There may be easier roads, but take them not; others may tempt thee from thy giddy path, but listen not to their talk. I shall put all my faith in thee, and I will not that thou disappoint me. Before I die, I want to know that one has reached the greatest height."

"But tell me," cried the youth, "will I find at the end that for which I am seeking, which I am wandering after all the world over?"

"That I cannot answer thee now, my son," replied his companion. "Come with me to my dwelling; I shall gaze into my magic stone and perchance I shall be able to tell thee. Give me thy hand, for I am weary; we have not far to go, and it will be sweet to me to lean upon thy youth."

With great care and solicitude Eric helped the feeble old hermit to his feet, and following the gentle pressure of his hand, he let himself be directed to the mouth of a dark cave, hewn out of the rock, close to where they had been sitting.

"What a lonely place to live in!" cried the young man. "In truth it is like an eagle's nest hung on the very edge of the precipice!"

"It is a good dwelling for me, who only want to look backwards and not forwards," said the old man.

"Here I live in peace away from the clamouring of the crowd; I live with the thought of what has been, and what was evil drops away from what was good.

"I remember far more clearly the sun that shone than the days that were dark. I see faces I loved, and those I hated have no more power over me.

Even strange it seems that once I could hate; yet well do I remember how I loved; for this also shalt thou learn: that Love is the beginning and end of all things.

"Love is the key that opens every door. Love is the answer to all questions. Love is the very centre of the heart of the universe. Love is the voice of G.o.d, the punishment and the recompense He gives to His people.

"Love carries the heart to the verge of the unknown. In Love all is contained: joy and pain, hope and despair, the night and the day; what was, what is, and what shall be ... but again my tongue wanders away with me, soon thou shalt weary of my talk.

"Look about thee and tell me if my dwelling is to thy liking."

The cave in which they stood was dark; but when Eric's eyes had got accustomed to the dimness he saw that indeed it was but a poor abode.

His host lit a small ancient oil lamp which spread a feeble light around. He placed it upon a table hewn out of the root of a tree, and sat heavily down on a stool near by, resting his head in his hand, his still keen eyes following the young man's movements as he looked about him.

The cave was not large, and the sides were of bare stone. A cavity had been cut out at the farther end where a few rough skins were spread, and that was the bed, indeed more like a grave than a resting-place.

In one of the corners there was a rude hearth with a few old pots; opposite was a shelf bending beneath the weight of many old volumes bound in shabby leather; a tiny aperture gave a very faint light somewhere near the roof, otherwise the door was the only opening; it was shut by a thick woollen curtain hung on a string.

Against one of the walls stood a large wooden chest covered with an old shawl, once of fine bright texture, now so mellowed by age that its curious design was hardly discernible; a few low stools and a big heavy table completed the whole furnishing of this primitive dwelling.

"Well," asked the hermit, "what sayest thou to my sumptuous apartment?"

Smiling down upon his host Eric rejoined:

"Somewhat gloomy it seems to me--and too near the edge of the precipice on dark nights. In very truth the thought makes me shudder, that if one had not a care one could step from the door over the brink!"

The old man laughed softly, but with the sound of some one who for many a year had no more been accustomed to mirth.

"Come and sit thee by me, for I still have much to tell thee. Take yonder stool, bring it close to my side that I need not raise my tired old voice."