"The crisis is past," he said, "he will live." Hell Gate clanged behind the youth, and those without stood and looked one upon another. First came his friend, and said to the keeper of the gate: "Let him out! he is young, and his work still to do. Who knows but he may amend, and do it yet?" Next came his Love, and clasped the bars, and wept upon them. "Let him out!" she cried. "We are too young to die, and without him I cannot live." Last came his mother, for she had a long way to come. "What is all this ado?" she said. "Let me in to him!" and she broke the bars and entered. When the youth started, he passed through the Forbidden Wood, and wandered there, plucking and tasting the fruit, smelling the flowers, evil and sweet; and as he plucked and smelled, it chanced that a thorn entered his breast, for it lay open. He took little heed, for he was young, and the life strong in him; so the thorn made its way in, and presently was buried in the flesh; and he forgot it, for it gave him no hurt. By and by he came out of that wood, and shook the dust of it from his feet, and set his face toward the mountains, for a voice told him that there he should find his life and his Love. And so it fell, for as he fared on, his Love came to meet him, and he knew her, and she him. Then each held out arms of longing, and embraced the other tenderly, speaking fond words; but when the maiden pressed her arms about the man, a pang shot through his breast, bitter as death; and he trembled, for he knew it for the piercing of the thorn. The man set his teeth, that he might make no outcry, and then he looked at his Love: and see! she was snow-pale, and held her heart with both hands, as if in pain. "What is it?" cried the man. "What hurts my Love?" and she answered, "I know not; a pang shot through my heart, bitter as death." "Oh, Love, what like was the pang?" cried the man; and heard her words before she spoke; for she said, "Like the piercing of a thorn!" Three boys were playing
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