her child. I love him for love's sake, because God has given him to
me."

So the mother Mary leaned over her little son again and began to croon
a song as if she were alone with him.

But Ammiel was still there, watching and thinking and beginning to
remember. It came back to him that there was a woman in Galilee who had
wept when he was rebuked; whose eyes had followed him when he was
unhappy, as if she longed to do something for him; whose voice had
broken and dropped silent while she covered her tear-stained face when
he went away.

His thoughts flowed swiftly and silently toward her and after her like
rapid waves of light. There was a thought of her bending over a little
child in her lap, singing softly for pure joy,-and the child was
himself. There was a thought of her lifting a little child to the
breast that had borne him as a burden and a pain, to nourish him there
as a comfort and a treasure,-and the child was himself. There was a
thought of her watching and tending and guiding a little child from day
to day, from year to year, putting tender arms around him, bending over
his first wavering steps, rejoicing in his joys, wiping away the tears
from his eyes, as he had never tried to wipe her tears away,-and the
child was himself. She had done everything for the child's sake, but
what had the child done for her sake? And the child was himself: that
was what he had come to,-after the nightfire had burned out, after the
darkness had grown thin and melted in the thoughts that pulsed through
it like rapid waves of light,-that was what he had come to in the early
morning: himself, a child in his mother's arms.