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THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE.
But a moment later, she was back, bending over the child. "Where is thy home, little one?" she cooed, gently.
The child pointed a chubby finger at a house far across the fields, away from the road. With a sigh, Mary cradled the babe gently in her arms and set off thru the gathering shadows to the home, where a grateful mother received the child with joyous thanks and blessings.
"Tarry here and ^leep," begged the mother, "gladly will we give thee food and shelter."
"Nay," said Mary, "I seek the Christ, the Nazarene. Cans't tell me aught of him?"
The woman's face grew troubled. "But a few days ago he was preaching
BEYOND, ROSE THE HILL OF GOLGOTHA.
and healing on yon hilltop. Now, strange, wild rumors are afloat. Today a traveler told me that they have led him out from Jerusalem, toward the hill of Golgotha, to crucify him. But that cannot be true. What evil hath he done, the gentle Nazarene?"
With a heavy heart, Mary returned to the road, now shining like a white thread in the clear starlight. "He may be dying," she thought, bitterly, "while
I delay with a weeping babe.'' But even as she spoke, a voice came softly thru the still night, "Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these, my little ones, ye did it unto me."
On, in the starry night, along far, silent stretches of smooth road; over hills, standing sharply against the clear sky; thru black patches of forest, dark with flickering shadows, Mary hurried, with an eagerness that banished fear and fatigue. Finally, in the daylight's dim dawning, she came out upon a hilltop and stood for a moment, gazing. Far in the background lay the great city, sleeping. Beyond, rose the hill of Golgotha, and, straining her eyes, she saw, with dread foreboding the grim, ominous outline of the cross !
On again, thru the growing radiance of the dawn, along a winding road; past vineyards and olive groves, bright with the rising sun ; past herds of sheep and cattle, awakening to the new day; past drowsy shepherds, returning homeward after a night on the mountains ; up a straight, steep, narrow road, to the top of the hill called Golgotha.
A silent, desolate scene ! The great cross, empty ; the ground trodden bare by the multitudes who witnessed the crucifixion; sponges, bottles, and great wooden nails lying about ; three women, sobbing at the foot of the cross.
"Where is he?" asked the weeping Mary.
"He is laid in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, yonder," replied one of the women, pointing.
Torn with grief and despair, Mary sought the tomb. "Too late, too late !" she wailed. "Must I carry my load of sin forever? If I could see him even now ; if I could but touch his body !"
Nearing the spot, she gave a cry of hope. The great stone was rolled away from the door of the tomb. "Perhaps I may enter, and see where he lies," she thought, running forward eagerly.
But at the door of the tomb one, whose whole figure glowed with a mystic, unearthly light, watched. "What seekest thou, woman," he asked, calmly.
"I seek the Christ," she answered,