She had not been disobedient to the heavenly vision.
Her soul had turned at last to meet the dawning need, valiant for
doing. It had arisen at last, warm and radiant, and she was permitted
to sing its welcoming chorus in notes that were to make her name known
throughout the length and breadth of her native land.

The dawn had come to Elizabeth through storm and darkness. She never
quite recovered from the blow that had driven her back, wounded and
faint, to the path of duty. Never a day passed that she did not miss
the dear companionship of John, did not listen half-unconsciously for
his footsteps, never a night she did not remember with anguished heart
the manner of his death. But a year had passed, helping to heal the
wound, and Elizabeth had found happiness in service. One year more and
she would be a graduate of a nurses' training school, and a brilliant
graduate too, her superior officers predicted. For at last Elizabeth
was succeeding. And so her useless days left, she had chosen her life
this time without hesitation. Mrs. Jarvis had gone, bidding her an
affectionate farewell, and leaving in her hands the title-deeds to The
Dale. Her going closed the door of that side of Elizabeth's life. She
was to be some use in the world at last. And because she had found a
place that satisfied the highest instincts of her nature, the
long-stifled song came welling forth.

The faint gold of the east was turning to a soft rose, the blue of the
earth was growing brighter. And keeping pace with the growing light,
the earth-chorus was swelling into a storm of music. Elizabeth thought
of that dawn of her childhood days, and of her struggle to grasp its
meaning. Now she knew. Its message came to her in the words of a
hymn. They were the words they had sung in Forest Glen Church the day
they laid John in the grassy graveyard:

"_But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day,
The saints triumphant rise in bright array,
The King of Glory passes on His way,
Hallelujah!_"

The King of Glory had come, and the gates of Elizabeth's soul had
lifted up their heads that He might enter.

She slipped noiselessly from the room, taking care to waken no one, and
descended to her father's study. There she seated herself at the desk
and strove to put upon paper the great hope and longing and happiness
that were filling her heart.

Charles Stuart was whistling at the garden gate before she noticed him.
She ran