He saw the Woman--but not the Woman as he had left her. She was no
longer sick. She was completely restored. As in the old days her hair
clothed her like a flame. Her face parted it into waves as though she
were a swimmer. He could see the pink dimples in her knees where she sat
and the marble whiteness of her feet, which flashed like jewels. She was
again the darling who had delighted his heart when she had darted like a
sunbeam across the shaven lawns of Eden; but now she was ten times more
radiant.
What was it that had changed her? Her tenderness made a golden mist
about her which inspired him with awe. He had had precisely this sense
of sunny quietness when he had walked through those long, still
afternoons with God.
She was unaware of him. Her eyes were deep pools of sapphire. She was
smiling gently and brooding above something which nestled in her arms.
He called to her softly; she paid him no attention. Far below the ridge,
in obedience to his commands, the animals were still shouting. Was it
because of them that she was smiling? Had the robin flown ahead of him
to tell her what had happened? The robin was perched on her shoulder,
fluttering his little wings and singing her his finest song. He called
to the robin; like the Woman, the robin was too occupied to hear him.
No, it wasn't because of him that she was smiling--he felt sure. Then
why was it?
He gazed back on the dazzling landscape that spread away below him,
hoping to find something there that would tell him. How transformed it
was from the gloomy jungle that had been wont to threaten him! It was
like a nest of down. From its farthest edge where Eden lay, a beam of
glory spanned it with an orange path. It was this beam that made the
golden mist about the Woman. To his amazement he saw that Eden's gates
were open. Even while he watched they began to close, slowly and slowly,
with the beam ever shortening, till at last they were utterly locked and
barred.
The memory of lost happiness overwhelmed him. He turned again to the
Woman. There she sat in the golden mantle of her hair, enthroned on the
snow's pure whiteness. Creeping to her humbly, he fell to covering her
feet with kisses, so great was his need of her.
"My Woman," he wept, "they are cold--so cold. Never again will I leave
thee, not even to find God."
She bent towards him, lifting his chin in her hand. "I shall feel the
cold no more. Put thy hand in my breast. Dost thou feel it? I have that
next my heart which, though I grow old, shall keep me forever warm."
As he slipped his hand in her breast, she parted her hair and showed
him. Kneeling beside her, he gazed down wonderingly at a thing that he
had never seen before. He could find no name for it. It was like himself
and it was like her also, only it was tiny and no thicker than his
fore-arm. It had wee feet and hands, a rose-bud of a mouth and it was
smooth and soft. Its head, which was the size of an apple, was covered
with silky floss. Lowering his face, he sniffed it all over. It smelt
sweet like the flowers that used to bloom in Eden.
"What is it?"
She shook her head. "It was here when I wakened." Her eyes became bright
and immense as stars. "It's our's," she whispered tenderly.