Silently floating aloft on the deepening flood of the shadows, Rested its timbers of gold on the summits of Tabor and Hermon, Jesus came, weary, to sup at the house of one Simon, a Pharisee, Dwelling at Nain. Far behind him the woman came, following slowly; Entered the gate in the dusk, and when all were reclining at supper, Stood by the Prophet, afraid, like a soul that has come to its judgment, Weeping, her head bowing low, her hair hanging loose on her shoulders. Then there was silence, and Jesus was moved, so he spake to the woman: "Daughter, what grieves thee so sore?" and she spake not, but dumb with her weeping Sank at his feet; and her tears fell upon them like rain, and she kissed them. Simon, amazed when the Prophet forbade not the woman to touch him, Rose to rebuke her; but seeing His face, how it shone with compassion, Waited; and Jesus then spake: "I have somewhat to say to thee, Simon. "A man had two debtors of pence, and the one owed five hundred, "The other owed fifty; and when they had nothing to pay he forgave them "All that they owed; wherefore which of the two will most love him?" Simon said, thoughtfully: "He, I suppose, to whom most was forgiven." Jesus made answer: "Thou judgest well. Consider this woman. "Weary with travel and sore were my feet, but thou gavest no water; "She, to wash them, hath given the tears of her love and her sorrow, "Wiping them dry with her hair; and hath kissed them and bathed them with ointment. "Wherefore, O woman, weep not! I forgive thee thy sins which are many. "Go thou in peace." And those who were with Him at meat were astonished. "Lo! she spoke not, she asked not and yet He forgave her," they whispered. * * * * Dear to my God are the rills that flow from the mountains of sorrow Over the faces of men and in them is a rainbow of promise. Strong is the prayer of the rills that oft bathed the feet of The Master. THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Various Moods, by Irving Bacheller