Formerly my mind had been distracted by harassing doubts and perplexing contradictions; now everything had a meaning for me--high, and solemn, and sweet.

As the incense rose, I thought of those rays of connecting light I had seen, on which prayers travel exactly as sound travels through the telephone.

As the grand organ pealed sonorously through the fragrant air, I remembered the ever youthful and gracious Spirits of Music, one of whom, Aeon, had promised to be my friend.

Just to try the strength of my own electric force, I whispered the name and looked up.
There, on a wide slanting ray of sunlight that fell directly across the altar was the angelic face I well remembered!--the delicate hands holding the semblance of a harp in air! It was but for an instant I saw it--one brief breathing-space in which its smile mingled with the sunbeams and then it vanished.

But I knew I was not forgotten, and the deep satisfaction of my soul poured itself in unspoken praise on the flood of the "Sanctus! Sanctus!" that just then rolled triumphantly through the aisles of Notre Dame.