CHAPTER XLIV.
ENFOLDED in the intoxicating elation of earthly bliss, that did not crowd out her peaceful trust and thankfulness and adoration as regards the Christ, the Magdalene walked quickly on. Already the thrills of terrestrial joy, for which her earthly heart was still most fitted, were soothing the graver griefs of separation from the Christ, and she sped fearlessly along the by-path of the Jericho road. It was later than she thought. Olive and cactus, prickly pear and pomegranate trees, all were growing grey and dark; and, as now and then she lifted her eyes and tried to pierce the deepening gloom, great shadows rose in front of her, like screens of night-clouds, against which it seemed she must strike her body, till she came close to them and saw their nothingness swallowed up in farther deeps of shadows; and above, the glow, that had seemed like the eternal eye of God, grew dimmer too, and it was really night.
Presently she became conscious of a strange fear—not of earthly things, but of something about to happen. As a new terror crept into her heart, so a voice seemed to whisper, "Fear not! Fear not!"
Almost she felt a supernatural presence walking by her side. Was it fancy, or was there really in the darkness a faint, golden light, like atoms of
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