It could be naught else.
I fell upon my knees and rendered my deep and joyous thanks.
And in all the week that followed that unearthly silver music was with me,
infinitely soothing and solacing. I could wander afield, yet it never left
me, unless I chanced to go so near the tumbling waters of the Bagnanza that
their thunder drowned that other blessed sound. I took courage and
confidence. Passion Week drew nigh; but it no longer had any terrors for
me. I was adjudged worthy of the guardianship of the shrine. Yet I
prayed, and made St. Sebastian the special object of my devotions, that he
should not fail me.
April came, as I learnt of the stray visitors who, of their charity,
brought me the alms of bread, and the second day of it was the first of
Holy Week.
CHAPTER VII
INTRUDERS
It was on Holy Thursday that the image usually began to bleed, and it would
continue so to do until the dawn of Easter Sunday.
Each day now, as the time drew nearer, I watched the image closely, and on
the Wednesday I watched it with a dread anxiety I could not repress, for as
yet there was no faintest sign. The brown streaks that marked the course
of the last bleeding continued dry. All that night I prayed intently, in a
torture of doubt, yet soothed a little by the gentle music that was never
absent now.
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