“I done thought I see a light round your forehead, honey. It seems like I did see de light; sure you hain’t one of dem angels?”
“Oh, no, Aunt Clo; you know me, don’t you?”
And Genieve lifted her head and gave her a spoonful of the hot broth I had brought.
She sunk back on the pillow, and after a minute said, with the old persistency that Aunt Dinah wuz wont to cling to any idee she had formed:
“It jess seems as if I did see de light a shinin’ down out of your eyes, honey, into my ole heart.”
A more peaceful look settled down upon the face that had been drawn and seamed with “the misery.” And when she fell into her last sleep the same expression remained.
And I wondered if indeed Genieve’s sweet soul did not by some magnetism of attraction draw down a band of bright spirits whose heavenly looks wuz reflected upon her own, and if indeed a glow from the heavens she tried to picture to the old black woman might not be reflected dimly into her poor old heart.
“WHEREFOAH, BREDREN, LET US PRAY.”
But we see through a glass darkly; we may not see clearly into the beauties and wonders of the Belovéd City.