his thoughts should be his mother in Heaven--peace
be to her!

And then he raised his head to gaze at the chancel, so his vow should
there be recorded. He tried to look at the chancel, but failed to see
that far.

He could see only about ten feet ahead of him. What he saw was two
braids of golden hair wound round a head like a crown of glory. It was a
woman--a delicate, proud and marvelous personality--a woman! He thought
her a vision, and he touched the cold floor with his hands to see if he
were awake.

Petrarch began to speculate as to when she had entered the church. He
concluded she had entered in spirit form and materialized there before
him. He watched her, expecting any moment she would fade away into
ethereal nothingness. He watched her. The fog of the cold church seemed
to dissipate, the day grew brighter, a stray ray of light stole in and
for an instant fell athwart the beautiful head of this wonderful woman.

Petrarch was now positive it was all a dream.

Just at that moment the woman rose, and with her companion stood erect.
Petrarch noted the green mantle sprinkled with violets. He also made
mental note of the slender neck, the low brow, the length of the head,
compared with the height, the grace, the poise, the intellect, the soul!
There he was on his knees--not adoring Deity, just Her! The rest of the
congregation were standing. She turned and looked at him--a look of pity
and reproof, tinged with amusement, but something in her wondrous eyes
spoke of recognition--they had something in common!

She looked at him. Why did she turn and look at him? Don't ask me--how
do I know!

Perhaps telepathy is a fact after all. It may be possible that man is a
storage-battery--man the positive, woman the negative--I really can not
say. Telepathy may be a fact--it may hinge on the strength of the
batteries, and the condition of currents.

She turned and looked at him. He had disturbed her religious
meditations--rung up the wrong number--she had turned and looked at
him--a look of recognition--a look of pity, rebuke, amusement and
recognition.

He rose and half-tiptoed, half-stumbled to the door, ashamed, chagrined,
entranced. Ashamed because he had annoyed an Angel of Light, chagrined
because he had lost his proud self-control and been unhorsed, entranced
by the fact that the Angel of Light had recognized him.

Still they had never before met. To have seen this woman once would have
been unforgetable--her