“ONE NIGHT IS as a thousand years.”...
I was in the arms of my Blessed Damozel, sobbing my heart out on her breast.
“At last.... At last the day had dawned and set me free, and, as I had never doubted she would be, there, waiting on the fair hillside, had stood my sweet and blessed Lady, the first rays of sunshine lying on her golden hair, her white arms outstretched, her eyes full of tenderest sympathy, and deep with unforgotten sorrow.
I could not speak. I could not bring before her mind one picture of the horrors I had undergone. I could only cling to her neck and sob,... and sob.
“I know it all,” she whispered. “I too have gone every step of the way.” It seemed too cruel. She too, my Blessed Damozel.
“No! Not cruel, love.”... Did ever saint or angel say that word as did my sweet lady? It fell as balm on the wounded spirit. “Not cruel. I... listen, love,”... for indeed I was refusing to listen— “I would go through every pang of that time to gain what I have gained.”
It was a spiritless questioning I undertook.
“What was your gain?”
“The Crown of Life: Love,” she answered.
I had forgotten. It was a quest after Love I had been supposed to be sent forth on. I had not even once remembered it.
“I... have gained nothing,” I answered.
“Ah, yes, you have.”...
“What?”
“Knowledge.”...
I was too weary for answer. I dropped my head upon her fair bosom. She understood, and presently we reclined on the slope together, I held fast in her arms, the soft air of summer wrapping us round, the trill of birds in our ear, the clear trickling of a brook close by. But what were they all to the loving embrace that held me: tender, true, for all the Eternity that lay before us?
We were “as the angels of God.”