Rabbits whisked in and out of the roots, superintending and
provisioning the crowded nurseries underground; and as Anthony came out,
now and again on the higher and open spaces larks vanished up their airy
spirals of song into the illimitable blue; or hung, visible musical
specks against a fleecy cloud, pouring down their thin cataract of
melody. And as he rode, for every note of music and every glimpse of
colour round him, his own heart poured out pulse after pulse of that
spiritual essence that lies beneath all beauty, and from which all beauty
is formed, to the Maker of all this and the Saviour of himself. There
were set wide before him now the gates of a kingdom, compared to which
this realm of material life round about was but a cramped and wintry
prison after all.
How long he had lived in the cold and the dark! he thought; kept alive by
the refracted light that stole down the steps to where he sat in the
shadow of death; saved from freezing by the warmth of grace that managed
to survive the chill about him; and all the while the Catholic Church was
glowing and pulsating with grace, close to him and yet unseen; that great
realm full of heavenly sunlight, that was the life of all its
members--that sunlight that had poured down so steadily ever since the
winter had rolled away on Calvary; and that ever since then had been
elaborating and developing into a thousand intricate forms all that was
capable of absorbing it. One by one the great arts had been drawn into
that Kingdom, transformed and immortalised by the vital and miraculous
sap of grace; philosophies, languages, sciences, all in turn were taken
up and sanctified; and now this Puritan soul, thirsty for knowledge and
grace, and so long starved and imprisoned, was entering at last into her
heritage.
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