ht before:

"Who coverest Thyself with light as with a garment; who stretches out
the heavens like a curtain."

God Himself must be just behind that mysterious glow, little Elizabeth
said to herself reverently. That shining crystal was the garment in
which He had wrapped Himself, so that people might not see Him. But
she saw Him. Yes, He was there, she knew, and in the uplift of the
moment there came to her child's heart a vision that never faded, a
vision that many years later bore her up on the wings of poesy to fame.

But Elizabeth was woefully earthbound, tied down by the cares and
worries that fall to humanity. As she still hung over the window-sill,
gazing enraptured at the heavens, she was brought sharply down to
earth. Up near the willows at the gate she dimly descried a dark
figure hastening along Champlain's Road. It paused at the gate.
Instantly Elizabeth was transformed. From the rapt priestess of the
dawn she descended sharply to the keen-eyed spy. That was Charles
Stuart just as sure as sure! And John would be up and off in another
five minutes. She jerked herself back into the room so suddenly that
her head came in crashing contact with the window-frame. Elizabeth was
naturally keenly sensitive to pain, but she scarcely noticed the blow.
There was no time to even complain. Though her head was spinning, she
began to fling on her clothes in mad haste, feverishly watching Mary
lest the noise of the crash had awakened her. But Mary slept on
soundly; and, reassured, Elizabeth made a frantic toilet. She wrenched
herself into her clothes, pulling on garments upside down, inside out,
any way that was most expeditious. Buttons would not go into
button-holes, strings refused to tie, pins would not hold. But somehow
she managed to get herself dressed, after a fashion. There was no time
to think of washing, or combing her hair. She crushed her sunbonnet
down over her untidy head, snatched up her shoes and stockings, slipped
silently into the hall, and took her place behind a huge wardrobe at
the head of the stairs, from which hiding-place she could command a
view of John's bedroom door. By this time she was bursting with
mischievous glee. Wouldn't John and Charles Stuart be good and mad
when they found her following them? She knew exactly how to do it.
The only way was to dog their footsteps, keeping safely out of sight
until they were too far from home to send her back alone. Of course
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