The angel of truth guides the pen with which I write these words!
The voice came not from the shadows where she had evoked his image by the mystical incantation of faith. It spoke at her right side, each word let fall like a pearl, so that she turned her head to listen.
Were they words of compassion, or counsel? Did they propose a plan, or commend her obedience?
No. They only repeated the Divine invitation: Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
But as they fell softly on her ear, the darkness that had enveloped her parted, and slipped down like a tent, and a flood of light entered and illumined her soul. Her hands were still outstretched; but they were clasped in ecstasy: her tears still flowed; but they were tears of rapture.
“Oh, why did I not think of it!” she exclaimed; and in that first inflowing of heaven did not remember that she had thought, and had come, and that the words were but a reminder that she had done her part, and there remained only that he should fulfill his promise.
She was in heaven!
There was no thought of explanation, no study of phenomena. She knew at last what sort of miracle Christ came on earth to perform, and what his kingdom is.
How was her life to proceed? It mattered not. Whatever might happen, all was well, was more than well, was best! Should she go, or stay in San Salvador? No matter. She was blest either way.
“And this heaven,” she thought, “lies just outside the door of every human heart!