Barnes had at first written it with a question mark at the end—“Jesus is here?”—while at the back of his mind the question represented sarcasm and scoffing, which everyone who knew him would understand perfectly. But as he had pounded out his story up there in the reporters’ room, as he drew near the end and read over what he had written, he crossed out the question mark and wrote for the heading, “Jesus is here!” with an exclamation point after the three words. And this was what the boys were calling out on the streets.

Before the night of that memorable Saturday, the words were being uttered in nearly every home of the city. Businessmen gathered in groups on the corners, discussing the unheard-of event. A crowd surrounded Mr. Maxwell’s house, watching every window and door. People called one another on their telephones and excitedly talked the matter over. The members of Grey’s church who, like Martha, had been present at the meeting Friday night, were sought out and eagerly interviewed. And the whole town was moved as if by a common thrill of expectation.

In the midst of all the excitement, it was curious to note the contradictions and rumors that affirmed and denied certain aspects. He was of such-and-such an appearance. He was of no special significance. He had said this. He had not said it. He was an imposter. He was real. Men like Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Norman, it was said, believed him to be Jesus. And so forth.

That night, Raymond was calm and starlit.

Virginia and Rachel were together at Virginia’s home, and during dinner they had been talking, as thousands of people all over Raymond were, about the one great event that had just passed. Rachel was staying with Virginia while Rollin was in Chicago.

Virginia went to the west window of the library to draw down a shade, and stopped abruptly. Then she called to Rachel, who was in the sitting room with her two children, Eloise and Frank. The children had come to feel, along with Rachel, that Virginia’s home was like their own, and they called her aunt.

“Come quick, Rachel. The light!”

Rachel caught up both children and ran in, setting the boy down on the broad window seat and letting the girl slip to the floor at her feet, and she sank into a convenient chair.

Together the two friends watched in silence. The evening star was visible just above the tower of the First Church, which was only four blocks from Virginia’s home on the boulevard. And at first, Rachel saw nothing beyond the regular beauty of the star.

But as she looked, Virginia exclaimed again, “There! Don’t you see it? There! Just below the star!”

It was entrancing in its unearthly radiance, indescribable in its soft yet penetrating color. It fell out of the blue vault like palpitating wings, as if an unnumbered company of the angelic host were singing, beating the air with a glory that permeated space and included in its all-enveloping wonder all the planets in addition to Earth. Never had light been so diffused, so alive. It had a personal charm, as if at any moment a face might appear, smiling but grand, to give a fullness and a name to that which seemed almost to speak. And while they looked and even listened as if a voice might speak, the radiance gently went out, and there hung the star as it had for centuries, now calmly shining over the black roofs of Raymond.