is. And among mankind it is the love that moves the woman and
the man each to forsake all others and cleave one to the other. And
thinkest thou I know not this love? Knowest thou not the fathers of
Israel are a race of lovers? Did not our Father Jacob toil seven years
for her whom his soul loved? It were not a female he would take unto
himself, as a beast doth mate, else Leah would have served as well as
Rachael. But for the love of Rachael did he toil yet other seven
years. Nor did his body rest in the tomb until her bones lay beside
him. And of the love of Boaz--were not Israel's kings begotten of this
love? Aye, it was a lover of Israel that did sing 'Love is strong as
death!' Of this race that has lived and loved and written of love and
died loving come I. In my veins doth run the blood of a nation of
lovers. Rise, Mary, and sit thou beside me. My heart hath that to say
which my lips have not yet spoken."

When Mary had moved from the stone at his feet to a place beside him,
Jesus said, "Sit thou close to me, aye, so close that not the shadow of
a silver olive leaf can come between our souls--thy soul and mine, for
since mine eyes first beheld thee on the Temple porch thou hast been
more to me than thou canst ever know. Weary have I oft come to thy
home and thou hast rested me. Faint-hearted have I come, and thou hast
strengthened me. Disappointed, and thou hast cheered me; discouraged
with those dull of comprehension and thou hast understood, and while
thou hast sat at my feet to learn, much have I learned of thee. Yea,
thou hast been my friend, my counselor, my comrade, my disciple--all
things thou hast been to me save one and without this, all other were
but the hunger thy heart doth feel--were but the High Priest waiting
where there were no altar fire. Mary, thou art my Rachael. Thou art
my Ruth. Thou are my Rose of Sharon and my Lily of the Valley. As a
rose among thorns, so to my heart art thou among the daughters of Zion.
Thou art my soul's beloved! Woman--woman--I love thee! Lovest thou me
with the love that is one with mine?"

"Love I thee? Aye, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee. Love I thee
with all my soul, mind, strength and body. Yea, I love thee--not for a
moon--not for a harvest--not for a jubilee of years--nay, not for the
long centuries that make dust of our fathers' tombs. But until the
Jordan forsaketh its course--until the moon droppeth forever behind
Moab's hills--