‘Here’s a cradle song, and a tear and a moan;
Here’s a crown of thorns and a cross, when grown.
Here’s a vale of blood and a black, black night.
Here’s a flocking world and a rising light.’
“‘And then suddenly falling upon her knees, the gipsy asked alms; but this time, as never before, with both palms extended and craving neither silver nor gold, but eternal life. It was granted.’”
“Oh, father Adolphus, I’ll never forget this story.”
“Forget not, either, its simple lesson; the gospel comes to the very waifs of life, and so there is help for the sinning, wherever found, in the Holy Child; encouragement to all holy longings in the meanest breast of the meanest woman, once within that circle, all radiant with the beautiful virtues of that Saviour’s mother.”
“Surely, I’ll treasure this lesson, which is both balm and heart’s ease.”
“I must go now, so must thou. I’ll send at noon to the Reservoir, another parchment. Let one of the lads meet the messenger. It will be suitable for reading to thy mother, Rizpah. Be not so soon over-hopeful. We must proceed with her slowly. Those most needing the light will curse it if, coming too suddenly, it chance to dazzle. Israel still goes down all unconsciously to Egypt for gods, and the spectacle of man changing the invisible down, down, continues everywhere. Slowly, we who would be faithful, must raise up His only true presentment. We must allure after us, with all wisdom and tenderness, those we would win, while striving ourselves to rise toward Divine ideals ever beyond and above us. God bless my little missionary.”
They parted; and there were tears on Miriamne’s face; but not of anguish.