Ah, look!--flowers by the roadside! an' sunlight, an', just ahead,
spires o' the city, an' beneath them--oh! what is there beneath
them ye go so many times to see?
"Who is this?
"Here is a man beside ye.
"'Halt!' he says, an cuts ye with a sword.
"Now the bell is tolling--the sky overcast. The spires fall, the
flowers wither. Ye turn to look at the man. He is a giant. See
the face of him now. It makes ye tremble. He is the White Guard
an' he brings ye back. Ah, then, mayhap ye rise in the dark, as I
have heard ye, an' shake the iron doors. But ye cannot escape him
though ye could fly on the wind. Know ye the White Guard? Dear
man! his name is thy name; he is thyself; day an' night he sits in
the watch tower o' thy soul; he has all charge o' thee. Make a
friend o' him, men, make a friend o' him. Any evening send for me,
an' mayhap they'll let me come an' tell thee how."
He paused. Trove could hear the tread of guards in the chapel.
They seemed to enter the magnetic field of the speaker and quickly
halted.
"Mind the White Guard! Save him ye have none to fear.
"Once, at night, I saw a man smiling in his sleep. 'Twas over
there in the hospital.
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