“Behold, I stand at the door and knock.”
How simple is a spiritual miracle, after all! It is but the substitution of harmony for discord, the finding the keynote of the universe.
Not the least marvelous part of her change was that she recognized this state as her true one; as one who has long been cramped and bowed down breathes deep with relief, the pressure removed, and knows that he was made to stand upright.
No earthly storm clears so. Even when the sun bursts forth, he shows a rack of flying mists. But Iona no longer thought of a shadow, even as past. Trouble had no longer any existence, even as fugitive. In the twinkling of an eye, says Saint Paul.
It was early dawn when she issued from the Basilica. Some one was pacing one of the paths in the green above, but came running down as soon as she appeared.
“Why, Ion! What brings you here?” his sister exclaimed.
“I could not sleep,” the boy said, trembling. “Oh, Iona, what is the matter with you? What has happened? Let us both go away from here!”
She put her arms around him. “Dear Ion,” she said, “the brightest, the sweetest, the most glorious thing has happened! Some time I will tell you, but not now. Your hair is wet with dew, and your cheeks with tears, my dearest. Do not fear. All is well! All is well! Do not I look happy?”
“Your face shines!” said Ion, his own growing brighter. “I was afraid.”
“You are to fear no longer. You must go to rest, and then wake happy. But first let us kiss the panels of the portal; for they have been to me the gate of heaven.”