from me, look away from me, for I will weep bitterly."
Mary heard the words, that rose in tearful strains behind her, and, turning, saw the Magdalene's white, sorrowing face close to her own, trying to frame the words of wailing, while the great tear-drops fell from those lustrous eyes that had driven men mad aforetime.
"Who knoweth how thy aching heart doth suffer, my poor Magdalene?" she murmured soothingly, and stretching out her hand to her.
Then once more the mournful voices chanted: "I said, O my God, take me not away in the midst of my days. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. Look away from me, look away from me, for I will weep bitterly—I will weep bit—ter—ly."
The voices rose and fell and there seemed no comfort anywhere. Now that the cherished body was no longer there, the house seemed more desolate than ever, and a great night was in their hearts; deeper even than the gloom now falling silently, though the moon was veiled and the stars shone not out. And, as the last lamp flickered out in the house of Bethany, all hope in the hearts of those who were bereaved died with it, for there was no message from the Lord. Brother and friend and God, all had gone from them at once. But there was no wavering of their faith.
"For the glory of God is this thing done," said Mary. "We must tread the winepress alone."
