But these transports had resulted from her own
determination to realise and to respond. The mental effort over, they
faded, and her heart had seemed colder than before, her spirit more
dead, her mind more prone to apathy. The greater the effort to force
herself to apprehend, the more complete had been the reaction of
non-realisation.
But now, in this deep wonder of new experience, there was no effort.
She had but waited with every inlet of her being open to receive. And
now the power was a Real Presence within, revealing an equally Real
Presence without. The Risen Christ moved beside her as she walked.
Her eyes were no longer holden that she should not know Him, for the
promised Presence of the _Paracletos_ filled her, unveiling her
spiritual vision, whispering within her glowing heart; "It is the Lord!"
"Which Voice we heard," wrote Saint Peter, "when we were with Him in
the Holy Mount." She, too, had first heard it there; but, as she
descended, it was with her still. The songs of the birds, the rush of
the stream, the breeze in the pines, the bee on the wing, all Nature
seemed to say: "It is the Lord!"
Sorrow, suffering, disillusion might await her on the plain; but, with
the Presence beside her, and the Voice within, she felt strong to face
them, and to overcome.
Noon found her in her garden, calm and serene; yet wondering, with
quickening pulses, whether at nightfall or even at sunset, Hugh would
ride in; and what she must say if, giving some other reason for his
journey to Worcester, he deceived her as others had deceived; failed
her as others had failed.
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