Mary sat down on a foot-stool which he drew to the side of his chair and turned a smiling face to him as she said, "Often in the heavens I see sights more beautiful than words can tell. Look you now, just over there where the clouds bank low behind the olive tops. Dost thou not see fleecy lambs playing on hillsides of ruddy lilies! And over where the mountain casts its purple line across the far-off pink—see thou the pile of marble palaces wrought in such beauty as even Solomon hath not conceived? And canst thou not see rosy chariots driving from the west, the banners of the horsemen streaming and their red and burnished hair reaching into endless tresses? But look you yonder!" and she pointed toward a bank of moving clouds. "There are such beautiful clouds as angel wings are made of, and is not that a distant shore across the sky?"
"Yea," he answered, "and snowy mountains bearing snowy cedars."
"A path of light doth open up between thy snowy mountains," and she leaned eagerly forward.
"Maybe the Golden Gates of the New Jerusalem that lieth four square are opening, if thou hast eyes to see."
"Yea—I see! The clouds are turning into a throng of children—countless children. With snowy robes are they wrapped. Their arms are wings of feathery softness, and white and shining hair doth blow across their faces! Aye—how beautiful, and a golden glow shines over them. Stay! Children, stay!" and Mary pressed her hands together and leaned out across the parapet.
"They are passing," he said, watching Mary.
"Yea, they are passing into the forest of snow and the sea of gold.
But oh, my Master, when hath eye seen a more beautiful sight?"
"Listen!" and he took her hand in his. "There is music for the passing footsteps of thy white and shining children."
Together they listened when, over hills and valleys there came, breathing on the silent air, the thousand throated choir of the Levites chanting in the Temple. As the music came to them, sometimes far and faint and sometimes like a fresh wave on a rising tide, it seemed to bear them away from the world and themselves, save as they were held together by the touch of hands. As the gray of twilight veiled the lowlands, the red fires of booth-dwellers shone out like vivid jewels scattered in irregular pattern, and when darkness had fallen the music ceased.
"My mystery," Mary said softly to herself.