Nor could her cross of office lie where his dear head had
rested.
She stood before the shrine. The Madonna looked gravely upon her. The
holy Babe gazed with omniscient eyes, holding forth tiny hands of
omnipotence.
Even so had they looked in her hour of joy, when she had kneeled in a
transport of thanksgiving.
Even so had they looked in her hour of anguish, when she had poured out
her despair at having been twice deceived.
Yet help had not come, until she had lifted her eyes unto the hills.
She turned from the shrine, went swiftly to the open casement, and
stood looking over the green tree tops, to the heavenly blue beyond,
flecked by swift moving clouds.
She, who had now learned to "look . . . at the things that are not
seen," could not find help through gazing on carven images.
Thoughts of our Lady seemed more living and vital while she kept her
eyes upon the fleecy whiteness of those tiny clouds, or watched a
flight of mountain birds, silver-winged in the sunshine.
What was the one command recorded as having been given, by the blessed
Mother of our Lord, to men? "Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it."
And what was His last injunction to His Church on earth? "Go ye into
all the world and preach glad tidings to every creature. . . . And lo,
I am with you always."
Mora could not but know that she had come forth into her world bringing
the glad tidings of love requited, of comfort, and of home.
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