Then his eyes wandered about the poor, ill-furnished apartment, and he said:
“How beautiful it is here! And how lightsome the air is! Look! The golden gates! And the seven golden candlesticks! And the sea of glass like unto crystal! And all the innumerable company of the angels!”
Aggie, who had returned to the room, was crying audibly.
“Are you crying. Glory? Foolish child to cry! But I know—I understand! Put your dear hand in mine, my child, and we will go together to God's throne and say: 'Father, you must forgive us two. We were but man and woman, and we could not help but love each other, though it was a fault, and for one of us it was a sin.' And God will forgive us, because he made us so, and because God is the God of love.”
Glory could bear no more. “John!” she whispered.
He raised himself on his elbow and held his head aslant, like one who listens to a sound that comes from a distance.
“John!”
“That's Glory's voice.”
“It is Glory, dearest.”'
The serenity in his face gave way to a look of bewilderment.