He rose to his knees, lifting the body.  Christian had fallen face forward in the snow, with his arms flung up and wide, and so had the frost made him rigid:  strange, ghastly, unyielding to Sweyn’s lifting, so that he laid him down again and crouched above, with his arms fast round him, and a low heart-wrung groan.

[Illustration:  Sweyn’s Finding]

When at last he found force to raise his brother’s body and gather it in his arms, tight clasped to his breast, he tried to face the Thing that lay beyond.  The sight set his limbs in a palsy with horror and dread.  His senses had failed and fainted in utter cowardice, but for the strength that came from holding dead Christian in his arms, enabling him to compel his eyes to endure the sight, and take into the brain the complete aspect of the Thing.  No wound, only blood stains on the feet.  The great grim jaws had a savage grin, though dead-stiff.  And his kiss:  he could bear it no longer, and turned away, nor ever looked again.

And the dead man in his arms, knowing the full horror, had followed and faced it for his sake; had suffered agony and death for his sake; in the neck was the deep death gash, one arm and both hands were dark with frozen blood, for his sake!  Dead he knew him, as in life he had not known him, to give the right meed of love and worship.  Because the outward man lacked perfection and strength equal to his, he had taken the love and worship of that great pure heart as his due; he, so unworthy in the inner reality, so mean, so despicable, callous, and contemptuous towards the brother who had laid down his life to save him.  He longed for utter annihilation, that so he might lose the agony of knowing himself so unworthy such perfect love.  The frozen calm of death on the face appalled him.  He dared not touch it with lips that had cursed so lately, with lips fouled by kiss of the horror that had been death.

He struggled to his feet, still clasping Christian.  The dead man stood upright within his arm, frozen rigid.  The eyes were not quite closed; the head had stiffened, bowed slightly to one side; the arms stayed straight and wide.  It was the figure of one crucified, the blood-stained hands also conforming.

So living and dead went back along the track that one had passed in the deepest passion of love, and one in the deepest passion of hate.  All that night Sweyn toiled through the snow, bearing the weight of dead Christian, treading back along the steps he before had trodden, when he was wronging with vilest thoughts, and cursing with murderous hatred, the brother who all the while lay dead for his sake.

Cold, silence, darkness encompassed the strong man bowed with the dolorous burden; and yet he knew surely that that night he entered hell, and trod hell-fire along the homeward road, and endured through it only because Christian was with him.  And he knew surely that to him Christian had been as Christ, and had suffered and died to save him from his sins.