ad once more lost its efficacy, I took long whip-like
branches of tender eglantine to fashion a scourge with which I
flagellated my naked body so that the thorns tore my flesh and set my
rebellious blood to flow.
One evening, at last, as I sat outside my hut, gazing over the rolling
emerald uplands, I had my reward. I almost fainted when first I realized
it in the extremity of my joy and thankfulness. Very faintly, just as I
had heard it that night when first I came to the hermitage, I heard now
the mystic, bell-like music that had guided my footsteps thither. Never
since that night had the sound of it reached me, though often I had
listened for it.
It came now wafted down to me, it seemed, upon the evening breeze, a
sound of angelic chimes infinitely ravishing to my senses, and stirring
my heart to such an ecstasy of faith and happiness as I had never yet
known since my coming thither.
It was a sign--a sign of pardon, a sign of grace. It could be naught
else. I fell upon my knees and rendered my deep and joyous thanks.
And in all the week that followed that unearthly silver music was with
me, infinitely soothing and solacing. I could wander afield, yet it
never left me, unless I chanced to go so near the tumbling waters of
the Bagnanza that their thunder drowned that other blessed sound. I took
courage and confidence. Passion Week drew nigh; but it no longer had any
terrors for me. I was adjudged worthy of the guardianship of the shrine.
Yet I prayed, and made St. Sebastian the special object of my devotions,
that he should not fail me.
April came, as I learnt of the stray visitors who, of their charity,
brought me the alms of bread, and the second day of it was the first of
Holy Week.
CHAPTER VII. INTRUDERS
It was on Holy Thursday that the image usually began to bleed, and it
would continue so to do until the dawn of Easter Sunday.
Each day now, as the time drew nearer, I watched the image closely, and
on the Wednesday I watched it with a dread anxiety I could not repress,
for as yet there was no faintest sign. The brown streaks that marked
the course of the last bleeding continued dry. All that night I prayed
intently, in a torture of doubt, yet soothed a little by the gentle
music that was never absent now.
With the first glint of dawn I heard steps outside the hut; but I did
not stir. By sunrise there was a murmur of voices like the muttering of
a sea upon its shore. I rose and peered mo
|