Freckles stood as if transfixed.
The cathedral was majestically beautiful, from arched dome of frescoed gold, green, and blue in never-ending shades and harmonies, to the mosaic aisle she trod, richly inlaid in choicest colors, and gigantic pillars that were God's handiwork fashioned and perfected through ages of sunshine and rain.

But the fair young face and divinely molded form of the Angel were His most perfect work of all.

Never had she appeared so surpassingly beautiful.

She was smiling encouragingly now, and as she came toward him, she struck the chords full and strong.
The heart of poor Freckles almost burst with dull pain and his great love for her.

In his desire to fulfill her expectations he forgot everything else, and when she reached his initial chord he was ready.