“And not a selfish paradise.  We are but as others, we mystics; it is only that we take—­or rather are led, for it is no will of ours, but an imperious voice that calls us—­the straight and flowery road to God, pressing through but one hedge of thorns, while you and others struggle to Him along the dusty road that winds and wanders.  But our paradise would be no paradise if we did not know that our brothers were coming, coming; the beauty that we behold, sheer ugliness if we did not believe that you will some day share it too.

“Yes, I am a mystic—­have joined the one brotherhood that is eternal and all-embracing, as young as love and as old as time—­the society that no man suspects till he is close upon it, or hopes to enter till he finds himself in a moment within the sacred pale.  I would that I could tell you with what different eyes we look on life and death, God and nature, from this divine vantage-ground on which we stand, and you would imperil all, run through fire and water, to win it too; but you must find the way yourself—­no man can show it you.  If you enter—­and you are destined to enter this side the grave—­it will come when you are least expecting it.  In the middle of those that cry ‘Lo, here is Christ and there,’ He himself will touch you on the shoulder, and show you better things than these.

“Oh, if I could only help you there at once—­open the door!  But my words would bear other and commoner meanings in your ear; if I opened the door, you would not see the light.  Ay, and I do not wish it; for every step outside you take is apportioned you; you need them, that you may appreciate, when you have it, the rest within.

“And now for my request.  You need not answer now; you may have a year to think of it.

“You have seen my two boys.  Outwardly they are alike, inwardly very different—­that you could not see.

“The younger will join me soon; he is far advanced upon the way already, though he little suspects it.  I have no fears for him.  God is drawing him.

“But the elder—­like as he is in face, form, disposition—­will need another discipline.  He must tread the winding road, the road of other men.  His trial will be a sharp one; through many paths he will have to be taught the truth.  I could hardly bear it, when I look at the tender face, the dreamy eyes, and feel his caressing hand, thinking of the horrors he must look upon, if I did not know that all will be well.

“Will you undertake a charge for me?  I could not play a part in the world again, even if I would.  I have lost my hold on men.  I do not realize what are their hopes and fears, their ideals, and most of all, their whims and caprices; and, what is more, I could never appreciate them now.  Ten years’ isolation is enough to spoil one for that; in ten years many social traditions and commonplaces of life have changed.  I should have to ask the reasons for many things.  I should never feel them instinctively, as those do who have grown old along with them.