Rosalie’s eyes were shining as they looked across into his.
“And in my mind the same thing must have happened. For somehow no longer I thought upon the Serpent. All was changed. Whatever humble love I had to give, and strength to ask, were given and claimed by some wise reasoning Being far above, whose faintest breath could shrivel into cinders this grinning mockery worshipped of man.”
“What of the cinder?”
“Oh! I remember it never burned away. It shone like a little ball of gold within the fire, and I wondered at the time why it had never disappeared.”
Then suddenly she got up and crossed the room and knelt down beside him, and clasped her hands upon the arm-chair.
“And I believe it,” she said. “I could never think of going back to the Serpent after the higher thing; I loved to see the pure white light within that glorious fire. It was so peaceful, restful, strong and light-giving. I hardly think I could have spent the week that followed, with all its brilliant lights and gloomy blackness, and everything so fresh and new, had I not had that light so pure and still to think upon. It was divinest comfort to me even when the blackness tried to quite obscure it, and set such a terrible gap betwixt me and every living thing.”
“And after this you left the temple and went to Mr. Barringcourt?”
“Yes; there was nothing more to stay for. And I think the same thing led me to him that has now led me to you—calling ‘On! on! on!’ in spite of everything.”
“And when you got there?”
“Then he healed me, by a very natural process it seemed, that had little of the miracle about it. But I felt no pain, and I remember he was very much surprised at it.”