“You couldn’t see anybody hanging there. Vestasian, who wrote the play, has too nice perceptions for that. There was a cross there certainly, a monstrous one, but against it was leaning a brother of his, to signify that the atom of humanity was hidden by the Godhead. But because it was very dark the people could not see him, and it was excusable, because their eyes were not made that way. He was writing notes and taking what on earth corresponds to snap-shots. He was so silent that no one understood his presence, though they felt it. When they laughed they were laughing at him, and he laughed with them all the time, luring, tempting, spreading his terrible shadow over them and on the sufferer. In fact, throughout the whole great drama one never saw the central human figure because of him. It was he who stood on trial at the sham judgment before Annas and Caiaphas and Pilate and Herod. And upon these occasions, as a little aside appreciated only by those of the same understanding as himself, he appeared with crown and sceptre and robes and jewels of such kingly splendour that the whole court was more blinded than when under the cross’s shadow. And when Pilate, tempted by the little mouthing demon on his shoulder, turned with a half-irritable sneer to ask, ‘What is truth?’ he only shook his head and smiled so whimsically that one was compelled to laugh, the farce had reached to such a pitch.” After a pause I continued:— “Moreover, I notice you have no churches. I have heard no prayers, seen neither pulpit nor altar; all these were very evident in the vaults of Hell.” She rose and came over to me. “You try to show a wonder that you do not feel,” she said. “We need none of these, they are a part of Hell’s bondage and its slavery. To have the kingdom of Heaven within one is to need no more. It builds its own temple in sacred silence, and sends the life blood beating into every vein. It is only on earth, where the real thing is so rarely found, that the outward show is needed.” A great silence followed, till at last she drew away the folds of her white robe and showed me to the inner depths of her pure spirit. There in the centre of the heart, composed of light and love, I saw the Figure and the Cross. I could ask no further, and in silence she drew the soft folds back again. “It is the link that joins the earth to us, us to the earth,” she observed at last. “It is born in our children, none yet have come to us without it. If you care to examine into the structure of your own spirit you will find it too.” “Oh, yes. I was fully aware of what was in myself. But I thought I was somewhat unique.” She burst out laughing. “There now, that’s another touch of Nature that makes the whole world kin. It’s surprising the amount of people who think they are ‘the only ones.’”