"I go with thee," and Martha rose and turned to Mary, who said, "Nay, I go not. I will stay and gather lilies."
"Hast thou not yet learned the heart of man doth delight in meat and drink—not in lilies?"
"Thou forgettest the Master, my sister. The guest of honor will he be before his long going away, and thinkest thou he will not know whose hand plucked the lilies?"
"Mary hath the last word on thee, Martha," Lazarus said, laughing. "Let us be going," and they crossed the garden to the gate that opened into the court of Simon.
After they had gone, Mary went the length of the garden to her lily beds. While she was gathering the blossoms, Jesus came from the house and looked about him, and as he passed into the shade of the big olive tree, he discovered Mary. He stopped and watched her, as with her arms full of lilies she came toward the pool. In the silver light of the moon her soft white garments and silky veil lent spirit-like appearance to her slender body, and her face was beautiful with a rare beauty not born of flesh. When she reached the pool she knelt and placed the lily stems in the water. Rising, she hesitated a moment, then turned into the walk leading to the old stone wall where she often stood to watch down the roadway for expected guests. For a few moments she leaned against the vine-grown stones gazing away into the moonlit distance. Then she dropped her head on her arms which lay folded across the top of the wall.
In a little while the stillness of the garden was broken by a voice which said, "Mary." She looked up with a start. Again she heard her name, "Mary."
Recognizing the voice she ran to the shade of the olive tree exclaiming, "Master! Master!"
She found Jesus sitting on the old stone bench and knelt beside him on a foot-stone. "Rest thou beside me," he said to her.
"Nay. Nay. At thy feet have the hours most precious to my heart been spent."
"Hath my teaching meant this to thee, Mary?"