world in which I found myself, I approached the thoughts
of beauty and loveliness direct, without any intervening symbols at all.
The emotions which beautiful things had aroused in me upon earth were
all there, in the new life, but not confused or blurred, as they had
been in the old life, by the intruding symbols of ugly, painful, evil
things. That was all gone like a mist. I could not think an evil or an
ugly thought.

For a period it was so with me. For a long time--I will use the words
of earth henceforth without any explanation--I abode in the same calm,
untroubled peace, partly in memory of the old days, partly in the new
visions. My senses seemed all blended in one sense; it was not sight or
hearing or touch--it was but an instant apprehension of the essence of
things. All that time I was absolutely alone, though I had a sense of
being watched and tended in a sort of helpless and happy infancy. It was
always the quiet sea, and the dawning light. I lived over the scenes of
the old life in a vague, blissful memory. For the joy of the new life
was that all that had befallen me had a strange and perfect
significance. I had lived like other men. I had rejoiced, toiled,
schemed, suffered, sinned. But it was all one now. I saw that each
influence had somehow been shaping and moulding me. The evil I had done,
was it indeed evil? It had been the flowering of a root of bitterness,
the impact of material forces and influences. Had I ever desired it?
Not in my spirit, I now felt. Sin had brought me shame and sorrow, and
they had done their work. Repentance, contrition--ugly words! I laughed
softly at the thought of how different it all was from what I had
dreamed. I was as the lost sheep found, as the wayward son taken home;
and should I spoil my joy with recalling what was past and done with for
ever? Forgiveness was not a process, then, a thing to be sued for and to
be withheld; it was all involved in the glad return to the breast of God.

What was the mystery, then? The things that I had wrought, ignoble,
cruel, base, mean, selfish--had I ever willed to do them? It seemed
impossible, incredible. Were those grievous things still growing,
seeding, flowering in other lives left behind? Had they invaded,
corrupted, hurt other poor wills and lives? I could think of them no
longer, any more than I could think of the wrongs done to myself. Those
had not hurt me either. Perhaps I had still to suffer, but I could not
think of tha