Her arms,
which encircled the babe, her hands, her head, her whole body, and the
soul within had a glow of fondness. Nature had clothed her for its
great event with a fulness of beauty wonderful and yet familiar. In
her soft, blue eyes they saw that peace and love which are a part of
the ancient, common miracle of God. They saw more, even the light of
the world, but were not able to understand. Calmly she looked up at
them. Waving strands and masses of golden hair lay above her shoulders
and about the head of the child upon her bosom. It was lustrous,
beautiful hair, and seemed to glow as the bearded man came near with
the lantern. What was there in the tender, peaceful look of the
mother, what in her full breasts, what in the breathing of the child,
what in the stir of those baby hands to make the soldier bare and bow
his head? He leaned against the rock wall of the cave and covered his
eyes and thought of his beloved Arria, of his dream of home and peace
and little children. The sword fell from his hand. A great sickness
of the soul came on him as he thought of those evil days in Jerusalem
and of his part in their bloody record.
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