is esoteric personality that I must pray for
help.

And so I gave my soul away to the sweet silence, and waited. The moonlight
falling down through an open space made a cataract of tremulous
brightness. It edged all the shadows with a silver whiteness, as of wings
hidden.

And then suddenly there came to me out of the far abyss above my trees a
message, a sweet assurance. Oh, I know not how to call to it, only I felt
the nearness of my love. And I was afraid, my darling, and closed my eyes
lest I should _see_ you. And then, oh, Philip, I felt, I am sure I felt
your face close to mine, and in my ears a low whisper breathed like the
passing of the breeze, a voice saying: "Fear not, beloved; be at peace
until I come!" And I knew then that you loved me and had not forsaken me
altogether.

And when at last I raised my eyes, I became aware of the fact that I was
still not alone; and peering through the dim spaces about me I beheld
_Jack_ sitting hunched up on the root of his tree like a small toad of
fidelity! The little owl sprite in him never quite slumbers, I think; and
seeing me leave the parsonage, he had crept out and followed bravely after
through the shadows. But the picture he made now startled me into a peal
of laughter.

"You are the lady in the story that was lost," said Jack, with the solemn
intonation of one who has himself received a revelation.

"Yes," I confessed softly.

"But will the knight come to find you?"

"I hope so; I think he is coming now, dear Jack."

"Well damn him if he don't!" was the little wretch's impious comment. I
always suspected him capable of using strong language, but this was the
first time we had met upon a sufficiently intimate basis of friendship for
him to exploit it.

And now, Philip, that is all until you come. But hasten, my beloved! I am
already aged with this long waiting for you. Do not ask me about father.
He is a good shepherd, but I am a small black sheep determined not to be
made white according to his plan. And he has come to that place where he
would be ready to take even you as an under-shepherd of this factious ewe
lamb. Besides, could we not make a providential offering of Jack, as
Abraham did of the goat when he was about to slay Isaac? Jack, I think,
has a heavenly wit withal, and could adjust the little prayer light of his
soul even to father's high altar mind. As for me, I cannot conceive of
life alone without you one whole day longer. Indeed, so stron