[Sidenote:  The Angel with the Flaming Sword]

Finally, they came to the last landing.  They had been up as high as this once before, but it was long ago.  The cupola was hidden in a cloud as before, but it seemed to be the cloud of a Summer day, and not a dark mist.  They went into the cloud, and an Angel with a Flaming Sword appeared before them and stopped them.  The Angel was all in white and very tall and stately, with a divinely tender face—­Barbara’s own face, exalted and transfigured into beauty beyond all words.

“Please,” said Barbara, softly, though she was not at all afraid, “may we go up into the cupola and ring the golden bells?  We have tried so many times.”

There was no answer, but Barbara saw the Angel looking at her with infinite longing and love.  All at once, she knew that the Angel was her mother.

“Please, Mother dear,” said Barbara, “let us go in and ring the bells.”

The Angel smiled and stepped aside, pointing to the right with the Flaming Sword that made a rainbow in the cloud.  In the light of it, they went through the mist, that seemed to be lifting now.

“We’re really in the cupola,” cried the Boy, in delight.  “See, here are the bells.”  He took the two heavy golden chains in his hands and gave one to Barbara.

“Ring!” she cried out.  “Oh, ring all the bells at once!  Now!”

[Sidenote:  Ringing the Bells]

They pulled the two chains with all their strength, and from far above them rang out the most wonderful golden chimes that anyone had ever dreamed of—­strong and sweet and thrilling, yet curiously soft and low.

With the first sound, the mist lifted and the Angel with the Flaming Sword came into the cupola and stood near them, smiling.  Far out was the blue sky that bent down to meet a bluer sea, the sand on the shore was as white as the blown snow, and the sea-birds that circled around the cupola in the crystalline, fragrant air were singing.  The melody blended strangely with the sound of the surf on the shining shore below.

The Angel with the Flaming Sword touched Barbara gently on the arm, and smiled.  Barbara looked up, first at the Angel, and then at the Boy who stood beside her.  The mist that had always been around him had lifted, too, and she saw that it was Roger, whom she had known all her life.

Barbara woke with a start.  The sound of the golden bells was still chiming in her ears.  “Roger,” she said, dreamily, “we rang them all together, didn’t we?” But Roger did not answer, for she was in her own little room, now, and not in the Tower of Cologne.

She slipped out of bed and her little bare, pink feet pattered over to the window.  She pushed the curtains back and looked out.  It was a keen, cool, Autumn morning, and still dark, but in the east was the deep, wonderful purple that presages daybreak.

Oh, to see the sun rise over the sea!  Barbara’s heart ached with longing.  She had wanted to go for so many years and nobody had ever thought of taking her.  Now, though Roger had suggested it more than once, she had said, each time, that when she went she wanted to go alone.