e rays of the sun I had revered became as the threads of shadows,
interconnecting life and death. In them I could see but you. In the jaw of
night, in the teeth of day, always I have seen you. Mary, love is a net
which woman throws. In casting yours--there! unintentionally, I know--you
caught my soul. It is yours now wholly until time shall cease to be. Will
you take it, Mary, or will you put it aside, a thing forever dead?"

Mary made no answer. It may be she had not heard. In the west both titan
and god had disappeared. Above, in a field of stars, the moon hung, a
scythe of gold. The air was still, the hush of locusts accentuating the
silence and bidding it be at rest. In a house near by there were lights
shining. A woman looked out and called into the night.

Then, as though moved by some jealousy of the impalpable, Judas leaned
forward and peered into her face.

"It is the Master who keeps you from me, is it not?"

"It is my belief," she answered, simply.

"It was he that gave it to you. Mary, do you know that there is a price
upon his head? Do you know that if I cannot slake my love, at least I can
gorge my hate? Do you know that, Mary? Do you know it? Now choose between
your belief and me; if you prefer the former, the Sanhedrim will have him
to-morrow. There, your sister is calling; go--and choose."

It was with the hideousness of this threat in her ears that Mary escaped
to the little room where her childhood had been passed and flung herself
on the floor. From beyond came the sound of banqueting. Martha was
entertaining the Lord, his disciples as well; and Mary knew that her aid
was needed. But the threat pinioned and held her down. To accede was
death, not of the body alone, but of the soul as well. There was no clear
pool in which she might cleanse the stain; there could be no forgiveness,
no obliteration, nothing in fact save the loss never to be recovered of
life in the diaphanous hours and immaculate days of which she had dreamed
so long.

For a little space she tried to comfort herself. Perhaps Judas was not in
earnest; perhaps even he had lied. And if he had not, was there not time
in plenty? The desert was neighborly. She could follow the Master there,
and minister to him till the sky opened and the kingdom was prepared. And
the threat, coupled with that perspective, charmed, and for the moment had
for her that enticement which the quarrels and kisses of children equally
possess. She would warn hi