Part 53 (1/2)

The night drew in around him; the lights in the city below were extinguished one by one. The croaking birds on the lonely Cross had found a home far away in the gloom.

The pilgrim knelt against the Cross, he could hardly see the objects nearest to him, the small p.r.i.c.kly shrubs, the rough gra.s.s, the loose stones that looked so white and spectral in the waning light. He could hardly see, for his eyes ached with the dull misery of tears that would not fall; but suddenly a sound softer than that made by a night-bird in its flight struck upon his ear.

It was like the drawing of a garment upon the rugged ground. One or two small stones detached themselves from their bed of wet earth and rolled away from under the tread of feet that walked upwards toward the summit.

The pilgrim did not move, and yet he heard the sound. It came nearer to him, and nearer, and suddenly he was not alone; something living and warm knelt on the stony ground beside him, and gentle fingers that had the softness and the coolness of snow were laid upon his burning hands.

”I came as quickly as I could,” said a tender voice close to his ear.

”But it has taken me some time to find thee. Had it not been for Folces and his devotion I might mayhap never have found thee. We came to Jerusalem yesterday. To-day at noon I saw thee starting forth from out the city. I followed thee, but the way was rough.... I feared I should never reach the summit ... and yet 'twas here I wished to speak to thee.”

All this while he had remained numb and silent. He knew even when first her hand touched his that G.o.d had ended his sorrow and taken his aching soul into His keeping at last. But for the moment he thought that sweet death had kissed his eyelids and that this was the first taste of paradise. Darkness was closing in around them both; he could scarcely distinguish her features, but it seemed to him as if glory shone out of her eyes, glory so radiant that it illumined the darkness and pierced the walls of the night.

”Is it thou?” he murmured. ”Oh G.o.d! have pity on me! Her image, her sweet image, allow it to fade from my mind ere my brain becomes a traitor to Thee!”

”'Tis not a vision, dear heart,” she whispered softly, ”'tis not a dream. It is I, Dea Flavia, whom thou didst call the beloved of thy heart. I came because I loved thee and because here on this spot I would learn from thee the mysteries of thy G.o.d.”

”Is it thou? And hast thou come to me from heaven?”

”No, dear heart, only from far-off Rome. And I have come to thee, to be with thee and to follow thee wherever thou wilt lead me.”

”Yet will my wanderings lead me far,” he said, ”my Lord has called and I must go.”