Her return to her ordinary perceptions was slow and painful. The people had left long ago, and she tottered out of the empty church and followed the road to her cabin without seeing it or the people whom she met on the road. At last a woman took her by the arm and led her into her cabin, and spoke to her. She could not answer at first, but she awoke gradually, and she began to remember that she had heard music in the window and that Our Lord had sung to her. The neighbour left her babbling. She began to feed her chickens, and was glad when she had fed them. She wanted to think of the great and wonderful sights she had seen. She could not particularise, preferring to remember her vision as a whole, unwilling to separate the music from the colour, or the colour and the music from the adoration of the saints. As the days went by her life seemed to pass more and more out of the life of the ordinary day. She seemed to live, as it were, on the last verge of human life; the mortal and the immortal mingled; she felt she had been always conscious of the immortal, and that nothing had happened except the withdrawing of a veil. The memory of her vision was still intense in her, but she wished to renew it; and waited next Sunday breathless with anticipation. The vision began at the same moment, the signal was the same as before; the note from the harp string floated down the aisles and when it had been repeated three times the saintly fingers moved over the strings, and she heard the beautiful little tune. Every eye was upon her, and forgetful of the fact that the priest was celebrating Mass, they said, "Look, she hears the saints singing about her. She sees Christ coming." The priest heard Biddy cry out "Christ is coming," and she fell prone and none dared to raise her up, and she lay there till the Mass was finished. When the priest left the altar she was still lying at length, and the people were about her; and knowing how much she would feel the slightest reproof, he did not say a word that would throw doubt on her statement. He did not like to impugn a popular belief, but he felt obliged to exercise clerical control. "Now, Biddy, I know you are a very pious woman, but I cannot allow you to interrupt the Mass." "If the Lord comes to me am I not to receive Him, your reverence?" "In the first place I object to your dress; you are not properly dressed." She wore a bright blue cloak, she seemed to wear hardly anything else, and tresses of dirty hair hung over her shoulders. "The Lord has not said anything to me about my dress, your reverence, and He put His gold crown on my head to-day." "Biddy, is all this true?" "As true as you're standing there." "I am not asking you if your visions are true. I have my opinion about that. I am asking if they are true to you." "True to me, your reverence? I don't rightly understand." "I want to know if you think Our Lord put a gold crown on your head to-day." "To be sure He did, your reverence."