Whats Mines Mine, vol 2 | Page 9

go in at
their eyes when they come down to the earth, that it makes them dark."
"How could they be brighter and darker both at once?" asked the girl,
very pertinently.
"I will tell you," answered Rob. "The dark things that go in at their eyes,
they have to burn them in the fire of faith; and it is the fire of that
burning that makes their eyes bright; it is the fire of their faith burning
up the sad things they see."
"Oh, yes! I understand now!" said the girl. "And what were their
clothes like, Rob?"
"When you see the angels, you don't think much about their clothes."
"And what were they saying?"
"I spoke first--the moment I saw them, for I was not sure they knew
that I was there. I said, 'I am here, gentlemen.' 'Yes, we know that,' they
answered. 'Are you far from home, gentlemen?' I asked. 'It is all one for
that,' they answered. 'Well,' said I, 'it is true, gentlemen, for you seem
as much at home here on the side of Dorrachbeg, as if it was a hill in
paradise!' 'And how do you know it is not?' said they. 'Because I see
people do upon it as they would not in paradise,' I answered. 'Ah!' said
one of them, 'the hill may be in paradise, and the people not! But you
cannot understand these things.' 'I think I do,' I said; 'but surely, if you
did let them know they were on a hill in paradise, they would not do as
they do!' 'It would be no use telling them,' said he; 'but, oh, how they
spoil the house!' 'Are the red deer, and the hares, and the birds in
paradise?' I asked. 'Certain sure!' he answered. 'Do they know it?' said I.
'No, it is not necessary for them; but they will know it one day.' 'You do
not mind your little brother asking you questions?' I said. 'Ask a
hundred, if you will, little brother,' he replied. 'Then tell me why you
are down here to-night.' 'My friend and I came out for a walk, and we
thought we would look to see when the village down there will have to
be reaped.' 'What do you mean?' I said. 'You cannot see what we see,'
they answered; 'but a human place is like a flower, or a field of corn,
and grows ripe, or won't grow ripe, and then some of us up there have
to sharpen our sickles.' 'What!' said I, for a great fear came upon me,
'they are not wicked people down there!' 'No, not very wicked, but slow
and dull.' Then I could say nothing more for a while, and they did not
speak either, but sat looking before them. 'Can you go and come as you

please?' I asked at length. 'Yes, just as we are sent,' they answered.
'Would you not like better to go and come of yourselves, as my father
and I do?' I said. 'No,' answered both of them, and something in their
one voice almost frightened me; 'it is better than everything to go where
we are sent. If we had to go and come at our own will, we should be
miserable, for we do not love our own will.' 'Not love your own will?'
'No, not at all!' 'Why?' 'Because there is one--oh, ever so much better!
When you and your father are quite good, you will not be left to go and
come at your own will any more than we are.' And I cried out, and said,
'Oh, dear angel! you frighten me!' And he said, 'That is because you are
only a man, and not a--' Now I am not sure of the word he said next; bat
I think it was CHRISTIAN; and I do not quite know what the word
meant."
"Oh, Rob, dear! everybody knows that!" exclaimed the girl.
But Rob said no more.
While he was talking, Alister had come up behind him, with Annie of
the shop, and he said--
"Rob, my friend, I know what you mean, and I want to hear the rest of
it: what did the angels say next?"
"They said," answered Rob, "--'Was it your will set you on this
beautiful hill, with all these things to love, with such air to breathe,
such a father as you've got, and such grand deer about you?' 'No,' I
answered. 'Then,' said the angel, 'there must be a better will than yours,
for you would never have even thought of such things!' 'How could I,
when I wasn't made?' said I. 'There it is!' he returned, and said no more.
I looked up, and the moon was shining, and there were no angels on the