The altar was lit with many candles. She stared at it almost literally with a sort of horror, as if it were a monstrous thing. The statues about, the odd pictures, the praying people here and there, even the entry of a man into a confessional and the fleeting glimpse of the head and shoulders of the priest, were small things. That altar stood to her for everything. Authority, logic, history--what were they to a girl? Oh, well, these had a place, perhaps; she liked to hear Paul speak of them; she assented to what he had to say; but one thing more than any other had gripped her, how or why she knew not, in all this strange talk of this incredible religion. The Baby in the Manger, the Sacrament on the altar--suppose that were true? And she had come to see; come up out of Galilee of the Gentiles to Jerusalem that is from above; come up from afar like the Wise Kings. Where is He that is born King of the Jews? she asked, trembling, in her heart. Here! What, among those candles, under that strange canopy--He? So she stood hesitating. An old woman, bent, clean, made a deep curtsey in the aisle and came noisily down to the door. As she passed Edith, she looked up, surveyed her for a moment, and smiled. "A happy Christmas, honey," she said. "Go forward, and sit down. Himself is waiting you." Edith smiled an answer, mechanically. She did not question the odd saying. Neither then nor later did she doubt that the thing was a miracle. She went forward. "Himself is waiting you," she repeated wonderingly. It was as if a deep musical bell had pealed within her, and a whole sweet carillon broken out. "Himself is waiting you, Himself is waiting you, Himself is waiting you," rang the merry bells. She actually flushed a little. She sat down in a pew and stared at the altar. Amid a host of confused unknown objects which shone and blended the one in the other, she perceived a kind of box. It had curtains, she saw, and they were drawn. Why drawn? Her eyes wandered upwards. She perceived that from the four corners sprang metals which met above after an interval and upheld a cross. The little gold, shining thing held her for a moment. Then she looked into the space beneath. Candlelight gleamed, sparkled, leapt, on a brilliant, glittering something not unlike a vase filled with scintillating flowers. In the very heart of the flowers gleamed a living white. She stared at it. And then, suddenly, all untaught, she knew.