Would not this be an admirable idea for a mystic story or parable, or seven-branched allegory, full of poetry, art, philosophy, and religion?
It shall be called 'The Recovery of the Sacred Candlestick.' As each branch is lighted, it shall have a differently colored lustre from the other six; and when all the seven are kindled, their radiance shall combine into the intense white light of truth." "Positively, Hilda, this is a magnificent conception," cried Kenyon.
"The more I look at it, the brighter it burns." "I think so too," said Hilda, enjoying a childlike pleasure in her own idea.

"The theme is better suited for verse than prose; and when I go home to America, I will suggest it to one of our poets.

Or seven poets might write the poem together, each lighting a separate branch of the Sacred Candlestick." "Then you think of going home ?" Kenyon asked.
"Only yesterday," she replied, "I longed to flee away.

Now, all is changed, and, being happy again, I should feel deep regret at leaving the Pictorial Land.

But I cannot tell.