And how could a saintly Hermit judge him as mercifully as she--the
woman who loved him--knew that he should be judged?
She felt thankful for the good man's absence, yet baffled in her need
for help.
Looking back toward the humble dwelling, she perceived a rough device
of carved lettering on a beam over the doorway. She made out Latin
words, and going nearer she, who for years had worked so continuously
at copying and translating, read them without difficulty.
"WITH HIM, IN THE HOLY MOUNT," was inscribed across the doorway of the
Hermit's dwelling.
Mora repeated the words, and again repeated them; and, as she did so
there stole over her the sense of an Unseen Presence in this solitude.
"With Him, in the Holy Mount."
She turned to the chapel. Over that doorway also were carven letters.
Moving closer, she looked up and read them.
"AND WHEN THEY HAD LIFTED UP THEIR EYES, THEY SAW NO MAN, SAVE JESUS
ONLY."
Mora opened the door and entered the tiny chapel. At first, coming in
from the outer brightness it seemed dark; but she had left the door
standing wide, and light poured in behind her.
Then she lifted up her eyes and saw; and seeing, understood the meaning
of the legend above the entrance.
In that little chapel was one Figure, and one Figure only. No pictured
saints were there. No image of our Lady. No crucifix hung on the wall.
But, in a niche above the altar, stood a wondrous figure of the Christ;
not dying, not dead; not glorified and ascending; but the Christ as
very man, walking the earth in human form, yet calmly, unmistakably,
triumphantly Divine.
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