"WITH HIM, IN THE HOLY MOUNT," was inscribed across the doorway of the
Hermit's dwelling.
Mora repeated the words, and again repeated them; and, as she did so there stole over her the sense of an Unseen Presence in this solitude.
"With Him, in the Holy Mount."
She turned to the chapel. Over that doorway also were carven letters.
Moving closer, she looked up and read them.
"AND WHEN THEY HAD LIFTED UP THEIR EYES, THEY SAW NO MAN, SAVE JESUS ONLY."
Mora opened the door and entered the tiny chapel. At first, coming in from the outer brightness it seemed dark; but she had left the door standing wide, and light poured in behind her.
Then she lifted up her eyes and saw; and seeing, understood the meaning of the legend above the entrance.
In that little chapel was one Figure, and one Figure only. No pictured saints were there. No image of our Lady. No crucifix hung on the wall.
But, in a niche above the altar, stood a wondrous figure of the Christ; not dying, not dead; not glorified and ascending; but the Christ as very man, walking the earth in human form, yet calmly, unmistakably, triumphantly Divine. The marble form was carved by the same hand as the Madonna which the Bishop had brought from Rome, and placed in Mora's cell at the Convent. It had been his gift to his old friend the Hermit. At first sight of it, Mora remembered hearing it described by the Bishop himself. Then the beauty of the sculpture took hold upon her, and she forgot all else.
It lived! The face wore a look of searching tenderness; on the lips, a smile of loving comprehension; in the out-stretched hands, an attitude of infinite compassion.