It seemed the stars came down into my room and sang to me; this bed
became a throne; and some power was in me by which I could send my
thoughts out to help the world. I sent them out as a king sends
messengers--to people everywhere--even to people I've never heard of.
Isn't it wonderful?'
'You've had no pain?' For Mother knew that these sleepless hours at
night brought usually intense suffering. She stared at her, noting how
the eyes shone and glistened with unshed moisture.
'None,' was the answer, 'but only the greatest joy and peace I've ever
known.' The little glass of _calmant_ was untouched; it was not a drug
that had soothed the exhausted nerves. In this room at any rate the
spell was working still. 'I was carried through the air by stars, as
though my ceaseless yearning to get up and work in the world for once
was realised.'
'You can do everything from your bed,' her friend murmured, sitting
down beside her. 'You do. Your thoughts go out so strongly. I've often
felt them myself. Perhaps that's why God put you here in bed like
this,' she added, surprised at the power in herself that made her say
such things--'just to think and pray for the world.'
'I do pray sometimes for others,' the tortured woman answered
modestly, 'but this time I was not conscious of praying at all.
Pages:
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464