"What Plain is it, Michael?" asked Orville.

"It is called, master," said Michael, "The Plain of Sinful Things. It
is between us and the foot of the Cross."

"Is it hard to pass over, Michael?" again asked Orville.

"It is very hard to most men, sir," said Michael. "No one knows how
hard who has not been on it; and yet when one has been over, one
remembers nothing, for all is forgotten when The Flaming Cross is
reached."

They stood now at the top of the stones, and on the edge of the vast
Plain, which lay white and scorching before them. Multitudes, as far
as the eye could see, were upon it. They struggled painfully along;
but none stopped to rest, for all faces were turned to The Flaming
Cross.

Michael took but one step and a great change came over him. Orville
looked at him again and again, but Michael did not seem to notice the
change in himself. His face shone with a marvelous beauty. His
garments became robes of brilliant white. About his head a light
played, the like of which Orville had never seen. It was more wondrous
than dreams of Paradise. His bleeding feet were healed and shone like
his visage. Orville thought that he heard sweet voices about Michael,
but voices which spoke to Michael only.

"Michael, my brother," he said, "what is this; tell me?" and Orville's
voice sounded soft, as if he were praying. "Michael, who are you?"