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