Yet help had not come, until she had lifted her eyes unto the hills.
She turned from the shrine, went swiftly to the open casement, and stood looking over the green tree tops, to the heavenly blue beyond, flecked by swift moving clouds.
She, who had now learned to "look . . . at the things that are not seen," could not find help through gazing on carven images.
Thoughts of our Lady seemed more living and vital while she kept her eyes upon the fleecy whiteness of those tiny clouds, or watched a flight of mountain birds, silver-winged in the sunshine.
What was the one command recorded as having been given, by the blessèd
Mother of our Lord, to men? "Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it."
And what was His last injunction to His Church on earth? "Go ye into
all the world and preach glad tidings to every creature. . . . And lo,
I am with you always."
Mora could not but know that she had come forth into her world bringing the glad tidings of love requited, of comfort, and of home.
By virtue of this promise the feet of the risen Christ would move beside her "all the days."
It seemed to her, that if she went back now into her Convent cell, she would nail those blessèd feet to the wood again. In slaying this new life within herself, she would lose forever the sense of living companionship, retaining only the religion of the Crucifix. Enough, perhaps, for the cloistered life. But this life more abundant, demanded that grace should yet more abound.
A great apostolic injunction sounded, like a clarion call, from the stored chancel of her memory. "As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in Him."
She flung wide her arms. A sense of all-pervading liberty, a complete freedom from all bondage of spirit, soul, or body, leapt up responsive to the call.