o the intimacy
of the infinite, she caught the shiver of an invisible harp whose notes
seemed to fall from the night. And as she journeyed, her love expanded
with the horizon. She loved with a love no woman's heart has transcended.
In its prodigality and ascending gammes there was place for nothing save
the Ideal.

The little band meanwhile lived as strangers on earth. Out of her abundant
means their simple wants were supplied. She was less a burden than a
sustenance; her faith bridged many a doubtful hour; and when, as often
occurred, they disputed among themselves concerning their future rank and
precedence, Mary dreamed of a paradise more pure.

One evening, near the rushes of Lake Phiala, where the Jordan leaps anew
to the light, a Greek merchant who had refused them shelter at Seleucia
ambled that way on an ass, and would have stopped, perhaps, but one of the
band scoffed him, and he rode on, and disappeared in the haze of the
hills.

Unobserved, the Master had seen and heard; presently he called them to
where he stood.

"Do not think," he admonished--"do not think that because you imitate the
Pharisees you are perfecting your lives. They fast, they pray, they weep,
and they mortify the flesh; but to them one thing is impossible, charity
to the failings of others. Whoso then shall come to you, be he friend or
foe, penitent or thief, receive him kindly. Aid the helpless, console the
unfortunate, forgive your enemy, and forget yourselves--that is charity.
Without it the kingdom of heaven is lost to you. There, there is neither
Greek nor Jew, male nor female; nor can it come to you until the garment
of shame is trampled under foot, until two are as one, and the body which
is without is as the soul within."

Thereat, with a gesture of exquisite indulgence, he turned and left them
to the stars.

Mary had heard, and in the palingenesis disclosed she saw space wrapped in
a luminous atmosphere, such as she fancied lay behind the sun. There,
instead of the thrones and diadems of the elect, was an immutable realm in
which there was neither death nor life, clear ether merely, charged with
beatitudes. And so, when the disciples disputed among themselves, Mary
dreamed of diaphanous hours and immaculate days that knew no night, and in
this wise lived until from the terrace of Jerusalem's Temple the Master
bade her return to Bethany and wait him there.

Obedience to that command was bitter to her. She did not murmur, howe