There came to her an overwhelming sense of greatness about to be revealed.

She became strung to a pitch of expectancy that was almost anguish, while the music swelled and swelled like the distant coming of a vast procession as yet unseen.

She stood as it were on a mountain-top before the closed gates of heaven, waiting for the moment of revelation.
It came.

Just when she felt that she could bear no more, just when the wild beating of her heart seemed as if it would choke her, the music changed, became suddenly all-conquering, a paean of triumph, and the gates swung back before her eager eyes.
In spirit she entered the Holy Place, and the same hand that had admitted her lifted for her the last great Veil.

For one moment of unutterable rapture such as no poor palpitating mortal body could endure for long, the vision was her own.