Part 10 (2/2)

Mary, moving Almost as if an angry child had pushed her, Went forward a few steps; and having waited As long as Martha's eyes would look at hers, Went forward a few more, and a few more; And so, until she came to Lazarus, Who crouched with his face hidden in his hands, Like one that had no face. Before she spoke, Feeling her sister's eyes that were behind her As if the door where Martha stood were now As far from her as Egypt, Mary turned Once more to see that she was there. Then, softly, Fearing him not so much as wondering What his first word might be, said, ”Lazarus, Forgive us if we seemed afraid of you;”

And having spoken, pitied her poor speech That had so little seeming gladness in it, So little comfort, and so little love.

There was no sign from him that he had heard, Or that he knew that she was there, or cared Whether she spoke to him again or died There at his feet. ”We love you, Lazarus, And we are not afraid. The Master said We need not be afraid. Will you not say To me that you are glad? Look, Lazarus!

Look at my face, and see me. This is Mary.”

She found his hands and held them. They were cool, Like hers, but they were not so calm as hers.

Through the white robes in which his friends had wrapped him When he had groped out of that awful sleep, She felt him trembling and she was afraid.

At last he sighed; and she prayed hungrily To G.o.d that she might have again the voice Of Lazarus, whose hands were giving her now The recognition of a living pressure That was almost a language. When he spoke, Only one word that she had waited for Came from his lips, and that word was her name.

”I heard them saying, Mary, that He wept Before I woke.” The words were low and shaken, Yet Mary knew that he who uttered them Was Lazarus; and that would be enough Until there should be more . . . ”Who made Him come, That He should weep for me? . . . Was it you, Mary?”

The questions held in his incredulous eyes Were more than she would see. She looked away; But she had felt them and should feel for ever, She thought, their cold and lonely desperation That had the bitterness of all cold things That were not cruel. ”I should have wept,” he said, ”If I had been the Master. . . .”

Now she could feel His hands above her hair -- the same black hair That once he made a jest of, praising it, While Martha's busy eyes had left their work To flash with laughing envy. Nothing of that Was to be theirs again; and such a thought Was like the flying by of a quick bird Seen through a shadowy doorway in the twilight.

For now she felt his hands upon her head, Like weights of kindness: ”I forgive you, Mary. . . .

You did not know -- Martha could not have known -- Only the Master knew. . . . Where is He now?

Yes, I remember. They came after Him.

May the good G.o.d forgive Him. . . . I forgive Him.

I must; and I may know only from Him The burden of all this. . . . Martha was here -- But I was not yet here. She was afraid. . . .

Why did He do it, Mary? Was it -- you?

Was it for you? . . . Where are the friends I saw?

Yes, I remember. They all went away.

I made them go away. . . . Where is He now? . . .

What do I see down there? Do I see Martha -- Down by the door? . . . I must have time for this.”

Lazarus looked about him fearfully, And then again at Mary, who discovered Awakening apprehension in his eyes, And s.h.i.+vered at his feet. All she had feared Was here; and only in the slow reproach Of his forgiveness lived his grat.i.tude.

Why had he asked if it was all for her That he was here? And what had Martha meant?

Why had the Master waited? What was coming To Lazarus, and to them, that had not come?

What had the Master seen before He came, That He had come so late?

”Where is He, Mary?”

Lazarus asked again. ”Where did He go?”

Once more he gazed about him, and once more At Mary for an answer. ”Have they found Him?

Or did He go away because He wished Never to look into my eyes again? . . .

That, I could understand. . . . Where is He, Mary?”

”I do not know,” she said. ”Yet in my heart I know that He is living, as you are living -- Living, and here. He is not far from us.

He will come back to us and find us all -- Lazarus, Martha, Mary -- everything -- All as it was before. Martha said that.

And He said we were not to be afraid.”

Lazarus closed his eyes while on his face A tortured adumbration of a smile Flickered an instant. ”All as it was before,”

He murmured wearily. ”Martha said that; And He said you were not to be afraid . . .

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