Ian watched them go and then fell into a reverie. What a strange thing it was that chance should have brought him to Holwick! He looked at the drawing which was still on his knee. “Leonardo would have given something to draw her head,” he mused. “But neither he nor Raphael could have done it justice. Yes, she is like her, very like, and yet more beautiful. Who could have believed that any one could be more beautiful? This child’s father must have been handsome as she says. I wonder in what way I am to be of service to her. It’s a pity that she is of the old faith. Somehow I feel that that is going to be a difficulty. I should find it very hard to get any assistance if it were needed. The other side would not look at me and my side would not look at her. I wonder if they would even help me myself,” he pondered. “I do not hold with most of them by any means. I fancy that child’s father would have been more to my liking. How narrow and unkind they all are. Think of a Catholic like Sir Thomas More, a very saint of a man, coming to the block. Will nothing ever soften men’s hearts? John Knox is all very well, but he’s dour. No, John, my friend, Plato was quite right; if you do not understand beauty you will have to serve a little apprenticeship before St. Peter will open the gates. Harmony not strife,--the Beauty of Holiness,--think of it, Master John, think of it! With what humility and yet with what ecstasy we shall worship in that presence. “Ah, child,” he went on, “you are indeed the handiwork of God and, as Plato says, I do pass through you to something more.” As he spoke the vision of the child seemed to shape itself before his eyes. Her little feet were bare as when he saw her first and she was stretching out her beautiful arms toward him. Her face shone with a strange light and then gradually he felt himself lifted up and the vision changed, becoming more ethereal and more beautiful, till his heart stood still. It was no longer a child, it was no longer even human beauty at all. It was altogether transcendent. He rose slowly and then knelt down. “Now I know,” he said, “this is the heart’s adoration, this is worship. I never knew before.” He bowed down utterly humbled and yet at the same time exalted and a voice seemed to say,--“I am that I am.” He felt as one who is purified as in a fire and then gradually a sense of peace stole over him. He knelt there in a rapture for a long time until at length the vision faded slowly away. But he realised that in some strange fashion new strength had been given to him and that the temptations of life were shrinking into littleness.