' And I cried out, 'The
living, the living shall praise Thee, O God; the dead cannot praise
thee. There is no work in the grave; in the night no man can work. But
I can work. I can do great things. I will do great things. Why wilt thou
slay me?' And so I struggled and plunged, deeper and deeper, and went
down into a living black tomb. I was alone there, with no power to stir
or think; alone with myself; beyond the reach of all human fellowship;
beyond Christ's reach, I thought, in my nightmare. You, who are brave
and bright and strong, can have no idea of that agony. Pray to God you
never may. Pray as for your life."
Arthur stopped--from exhaustion, Tom thought; but what between his fear
lest Arthur should hurt himself, his awe, and his longing for him to go
on, he couldn't ask, or stir to help him.
Presently he went on, but quite calm and slow. "I don't know how long
I was in that state--for more than a day, I know; for I was quite
conscious, and lived my outer life all the time, and took my medicines,
and spoke to my mother, and heard what they said. But I didn't take much
note of time. I thought time was over for me, and that that tomb was
what was beyond. Well, on last Sunday morning, as I seemed to lie in
that tomb, alone, as I thought, for ever and ever, the black, dead wall
was cleft in two, and I was caught up and borne through into the light
by some great power, some living, mighty spirit.
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