They went, hand in hand, knelt on the upper step, and kissed the panels of the door, then walked in silence across the town. In the dawn, the face of Iona could be seen radiant with a light that was not of the sky. It was the outshining of an illuminated soul.
“Brother,” she said, pausing at the door of the Arcade, “what the King said is not a figure of speech, but literal truth. When he commands, or invites, do not stop to question. To him there are no impossibilities. Do not forget him, nor disobey when life is bright; but he is a star, best seen in the dark. If you should ever be in great anguish, set your soul searching for Christ, and do not leave off till you find him. He is near! He is always within call!”
She went upstairs, planning. First sleep. Then this duty, then that, quite as usual. And every duty, even those heretofore most nearly irksome, had a new face, smiling and peaceful. Every little weed and brier of life put forth its blossom.
Reaching Tacita’s door, she stopped; and hearing a movement within, she whispered:—
“Tacita Mora! O Tacita!”
Tacita was awake. Her heart had been sorely troubled by Iona’s talk the week before; and her sudden absence had increased the pain. She opened the door, wondering at that whisper, and shrank on seeing who was there. “What do you wish for?” she asked, fearing some new and more violent scene.
“To restore you the peace I have disturbed,” said Iona. “To ask your forgiveness. All the wild things I said that day were a dark delusive cloud which has been driven away by sun and wind. I was wrong, and you right. It is the Holy Saviour himself who will save the refuge they have named for him. I hope, dear, that you and Dylar will marry, and be happy; but it would be presuming in me to ask of your intentions. Peace!”
She went swiftly away before Tacita, astonished, could answer a word.
To be in heaven while yet upon earth, what is it? It is to have a sense of security which extends to the bounds of conception,—and beyond, a sense which no peril can disturb. It is to be steeped in a silent contentment which no words can express. It is to call the bird your sister, and the sun your brother. It is to study how you may serve those whom you have hated. It is to say farewell to those who are dearest to you, and know that they are not lost. It is to see the sorrows of earth as motes in a sunbeam, yet be full of compassion for the suffering. It is to know for what purpose you were created.