no night?"

Michael smiled again when Orville called him "brother" and answered:
"Because, my master, on The Road of Pain and Hope there is no despair;
but it is always night along The Road without Ending."

"Can you tell me, Michael, my brother," said Orville, "Why my eyes
suffer more keenly than all the rest?"

"Because," said Michael, "your eyes, master, have offended most in
life, and so are now the weakest."

"But my hands have offended, too," said Orville, "and behold, they are
already painless and cured of the bruises."

"Your hands are beautiful and white, master," said Michael, "and were
little punished, because they were often outstretched in charity and
in good deeds."

They had come to the brink of a Chasm which it seemed impossible to
cross, but they hoped, for they knew no despair. Multitudes of people
were before them on the brink of the Chasm looking longingly at the
other side. A few pilgrims were being lifted, by unseen hands, and
carried across the Chasm. Some Power there was to bear them which
neither Orville nor Michael understood. Many, however, had waited
long, while some were taken quickly. Every hand was outstretched
toward the Cross, and it could easily be seen that waiting was a
torture worse than the bruises.

"Alas, Michael," said Orville, "it is harder to suffer the wait than