The neighbour left her babbling. She began to feed her chickens,
and was glad when she had fed them. She wanted to think of the
great and wonderful sights she had seen. She could not
particularise, preferring to remember her vision as a whole,
unwilling to separate the music from the colour, or the colour and
the music from the adoration of the saints.
As the days went by her life seemed to pass more and more out of
the life of the ordinary day. She seemed to live, as it were, on
the last verge of human life; the mortal and the immortal mingled;
she felt she had been always conscious of the immortal, and that
nothing had happened except the withdrawing of a veil. The memory
of her vision was still intense in her, but she wished to renew
it; and waited next Sunday breathless with anticipation. The
vision began at the same moment, the signal was the same as
before; the note from the harp string floated down the aisles and
when it had been repeated three times the saintly fingers moved
over the strings, and she heard the beautiful little tune.
Every eye was upon her, and forgetful of the fact that the priest
was celebrating Mass, they said, "Look, she hears the saints
singing about her. She sees Christ coming." The priest heard Biddy
cry out "Christ is coming," and she fell prone and none dared to
raise her up, and she lay there till the Mass was finished. When
the priest left the altar she was still lying at length, and the
people were about her; and knowing how much she would feel the
slightest reproof, he did not say a word that would throw doubt on
her statement.
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