"You are!" she replied--"You are more than you imagine. I begin to
realise--"

He held up his hand with a warning gesture.

"Hush!" he said--"There are things of which we must not speak!"

At that moment the monastery bell tolled the midday "Angelus." Don
Aloysius bent his head--Morgana instinctively did the same. Within the
building the deep voices of the brethren sounded, chanting,--

"Angelus Domini nuntiavit Maria Et concepit de Spiritu
sancto."

As the salutation to heaven finished, the mellow music of the organ in
the chapel sent a wave of solemn and prayerful tenderness on the air,
and, moved by the emotion of the hour, Morgana's heart beat more
quickly and tears filled her eyes.

"There must be beautiful music in the Golden City!" she said.

Don Aloysius smiled.

"There is! And when the other things of life give you pause to listen,
you will often hear it!"

She smiled happily in response, and then, with a silent gesture of
farewell, left the cloister and made her way to the chapel, part of
which was kept open for public worship. It was empty, but the hidden
organist was still playing. She went towards the High Altar and knelt
in front of it. She was not of the Catholic faith,--she was truly of no
faith at all save that which is taught by Science, which like a door
opened in heaven shows all the wonders within,--but her keen sense of
the beautiful was stirred by the solemn peace of the shut Tabernacle
with the Cross above it, and the great lilies bending under their own
weight of loveliness and fragrance on either side.

"It is the Symbol of a great Truth which is true for all time"--she
thought, as she clasped her hands in an attitude of prayer--"And how
sad and strange it is to feel that there are thousands among its
best-intentioned worshippers and priests who have not discovered its
mystic meaning. The God in Man, born of purity in woman! Is it only in
the Golden City that they know?"

She raised her eyes in half unconscious appeal--and, as she did so, a
brilliant Ray of light flashed downward from the summit of the Cross
which surmounted the Altar, and remained extended slantwise towards
her. She saw it,--and waited expectantly. Close to her ears a Voice
spoke with extreme softness, yet very distinctly.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she replied at once, with equal softness.

"Then, listen! I have a message for you!"

And Morgana listened,--listened intently,--the sapphire hue of