Maybe
they're God, maybe they're a beast deep down." He paused, and moved
impatiently. "It's hard to piece thoughts together when you're weak. Can
you finish my thought for me, Marcella? It's getting muddled--down under
sand and stones like Castle Lashcairn under Lashnagar."
Marcella hesitated. Then she told him Wullie's idea about the path.
"He says other things beside God walk along our lives, but in the end
God's footmarks burn out all the rest."
Andrew nodded again and again.
"I suppose Christ was a pathway. I remember reading something about
that. 'My humanity is the path whereby men must travel to God,' but I'm
too tired to piece it all out."
"Yes. It says that in the Bible, of course. 'I am the Way--' Only I
suppose there comes a time when God has got to the end of you, and then
you're not a path any longer. And all that's left then is to give your
body and blood and get out of the way of others."
"Yes. I can grasp that. I feel that God has walked along me and all
the other footmarks have gone. Now, when I am weak, and hungering for
strength, He gives His body and blood. Yes, I think I understand
that--in a glass darkly. Some day I'll come to it more clearly."
That night, when he held out his hand for a cup of milk, Marcella
noticed that it was swollen like his feet; the left hand was bony and
flexible and still a little brown.
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