bid me go, but take her image, dear Lord, from before mine
eyes, it stands for ever 'twixt Thy Cross and me. Break my heart, oh
God, since her image fills it and its every beat is not in Thy name.
Take the cup from me, dear Lord! It is too bitter and I cannot drink!"

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 prickly shrubs, the rough grass, 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 God 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 God! 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 hear