"Pray again, my father," said Barbara, "and ask if it may be changed."

So the spirit of Septimus Walrond prayed, and the spirits of his
daughters and of the daughter of Anthony and Barbara prayed with him.
Together they kneeled and prayed to the Glory that shone above.

There came another vision, that of a little child leading a man by the
hand, and the child was Barbara and the man was he who had been her son.
By a long and difficult path--upwards, ever upwards--she led him, and
the end of that path was not seen.

Then these spirits prayed that the meaning of this vision might be made
more clear. But to that prayer there came no answer.



Barbara went apart into a wilderness where thorns grew and there endured
the agony of temptation. On the one hand lay the pure life of joy which,
like the difficult path that had been shown to her, led upwards, ever
upwards to yet greater joy, shared with those she loved. On the other
hand lay the seething hell of Earth, to be once more endured through
many mortal years and--a soul to save alive. None might counsel her,
none might direct her. She must choose and choose alone. Not in fear of
punishment, for this was not possible to her. Not in hope of glory, for
that she must inherit, but only for the hope's sake that she might--save
a soul alive.

Out of her deep heart's infinite love and charity thus she chose in
atonement of her mortal sin. And as she chose the great arc of Heaven
above her, that had been grey and silent, burst to splendour and to