The storm is past--the scene ended. As stranded wrecks along the shore, evidence of the awful night on the tempest tossed sea, so the Galileans, with broken hearts, lie restless near old Zion's walls, while the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth becomes simply a page of record in the history of our strange world. Magdalene lingers in the twilight at Joseph's tomb until the mother of Jesus brings her away, and pleadingly tries to convince her that it may be a part of God's wise plan to awaken the world and lead wanderers home. At last she seemingly becomes quiet, and as the mother smooths her silken hair she feigns rest, in sleep, but when all is still she silently steals away in the shadows to the Mount of Olives. At the top she hesitates, shudders, scowls and then laughs hysterically, as she draws her sleeping frock closer around her unprotected form. Standing alone, her scant attire fluttering in the cold north breeze, she suddenly awakens; with outstretched arms breaths softly, "Yes, I'll come," then, bowing low, whispers, "I thought I heard him call," then, strangely wild, proclaims, "No--no--I am not mad, I know he is dead, he'll call me Mary nevermore." Turning back, she shrugged her shoulders, seeming herself again, and while gazing over the Jordan to the far away Moabite hills she murmurs, "Somewhere in those vine-clad hills the childhood home of pretty Ruth once lay, and here so near, on Bethlehem's plain, she gleaned and gleaned until she won his heart; but now she is dead, they are all dead. They come again no more. "Oh, my soul, hast thou no home? Oh, evening star, beautiful heavenly light, wilt thou find rest in the ocean waves, and Magdalene find none, oh spangled heavens and God? Could I this night lay down to sleep in the swelling bosom of the Mediterranean Sea never to awake, never to remember more. Oh, that I could sleep forever in a starless night that knows no morning." One long, weird, wicked glance she casts at old Jerusalem and then murmurs, "Was it but yester' night that I, before that monster, stood and pleaded and pleaded in vain. Oh, see yon cross on Cavalry's brow. I go--I go, my heart is cold; I die for him. He loves me still--no--no--he loves me not, he is dead, he will love me never more. Oh, soulless maid from Galilee, did you once think that men had souls? Where is my dream of spirit homes, where tranquil souls are joined in love, far away in Heaven's domain? I am not mad; I know he is dead; there is no God; there is no home where spirits dwell." Wandering down the steep, she waits a moment beneath the tree where she had knelt and prayed that Jesus go with her to Galilee. Lingering a moment in this sacred retreat, she sighs, with her hand on her heart, and cries, "Oh, for just one tear to melt the frosty gloom on this cold fount of life," but tears came not. Leaping the stream, she ran hysterically up the rocky incline, then pausing a moment at the gate beautiful she turned towards Calvary.