Suddenly at the far end of the crowd a great shouting started and spread like a powder-train, with a violent clapping of hands.
“A miracle! A miracle!” the cries proclaimed.
They told me afterwards that five miraculous cures were accomplished at this moment, but I knew nothing about it. My eyes were closed. I had fallen to my knees in the dust and was sobbing my heart out, not in grief but in joy, for I knew that all was well with me now and would be in the days to come. I knew that Christopher would be restored to me, and that I would be allowed to make him happy. There would be no more doubt or fear in either of us—only love. I knew this!
As I knelt there filled with a spirit of infinite faith and serenity, it seemed as if, above the tumult of the crowd, I heard my name spoken gently—“Penelope!”
I knew, of course, that it could not be a real voice, for I was a stranger here, yet there was nothing disturbing to me in this illusion. It came rather like a comforting benediction, as if some higher part of me had inwardly expressed approval of my prayerful aspirations, and had confirmed my belief that Christopher would be restored to me.
“Penelope!” the voice spoke again, this time with unmistakable distinctness, and now I opened my eyes and saw Seraphine standing before me.
“Seraphine! Where did you come from? I thought you were in America—in New York.”
Smiling tenderly she helped me to my feet and led me away from the multitude.
“Let us go where we can talk quietly,” she said.
“We will go to the hospice, where I am staying,” I replied, not marvelling very much, but more than ever filled with the knowledge that God was guiding and protecting me.