come at once. Only the Veil began to lift, so that she saw the
Opening Gates and the Glory behind them.

Then, and not till then, the dream-voice spoke again. "Surely--surely He
hath borne our griefs, and carried--our sorrows.... And the Lord hath
laid on Him--the iniquity of us all." The music crashed into
wonder-chords such as Avery had never heard before, swelled to a climax
that reached the Divine, held her quivering as it were upon wings in a
space that was more transcendent than the highest mountain-top;--then
softly, strangely, died....

"That is Heaven," whispered the voice by her side. "Oh, Avery, won't it
be nice when we are all there together?"

But Avery sat as one in a trance, rapt and still. She felt as if the
spirit had been charmed out of her body, and she did not want to return.

A little thin hand slid into hers and clasped it close, recalling her.
"Wasn't it beautiful?" said Jeanie. "He said he would make me see the
Kingdom of Heaven. You saw it too, dear Avery, didn't you?"

Yes, Avery had seen it too. She still felt as if the earth were very far
below them both.

Jeanie's voice had grown husky, but she still spoke in a tremulous
whisper. "Did you see the Open Gates, dear Avery? He says they are never
shut. And anyone who can reach them will be let in,--it doesn't matter
who. Do you know, I think Piers is different from what he used to be? I
think he is learning to love God."

Absolutely simple words! Why did they send such a rush of
feeling--tumultuous, indescribable feeling--through Avery? Was this the
explanation? Was this how it came to pass that he treated her with that
aloof reverence day by day? Was he indeed learning the supreme lesson to
worship God with love?

She sat for a while longer with Jeanie, till, finding her drowsy, she
slipped downstairs.

Piers was sitting in the hall, deep in a newspaper. He rose at her
coming with an abruptness suggestive of surprise, and stood waiting for
her to speak.

But curiously the only words that she could utter were of a trivial
nature. She had come to him indeed, drawn by a power irresistible, but
the moment she found herself actually in his presence she felt
tongue-tied, helpless.

"Don't you want a light?" she said nervously. "I am sure you can't
see to read."

He stood silent for a moment, and the old tormenting doubt began to rise
within her. Would he think she desired to make an overture? Would he take
for granted that because hi