"'Here she is, poor thing!' I heard a sweet voice say.
"'I'm so glad we've found her,' said another voice.
"'She couldn't bear it any longer,' said a third more pitiful voice than
either of the others. 'I heard her first,' it went on. 'I was away up in
Orion, when I thought I heard a woman crying that oughtn't to be crying.
And I stopped and listened. And I heard her again. Then I knew that it was
one of the buried ones, and that she had been buried long enough, and was
ready for the resurrection. So as any business can wait except that, I flew
here and there till I fell in with the rest of you.'
"I think, papa, that this must have been because of what you were saying
the other evening about the mysticism of St. Paul; that while he defended
with all his might the actual resurrection of Christ and the resurrection
of those he came to save, he used it as meaning something more yet, as a
symbol for our coming out of the death of sin into the life of truth. Isn't
that right, papa?"
"Yes, my dear; I believe so. But I want to hear your dream first, and then
your way of accounting for it."
"There isn't much more of it now.
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