her at mid-height along the end of the
hall. The fire below shone into this gallery, for it was divided from
the hall only by a screen of crossing bars of wood, like unglazed
window-frames, possibly intended to hold glass. Of the relation of the
passage to the hall Mary St. John knew nothing, till, approaching the
light, she found herself looking down into the red dusk below. She stood
riveted; for in the centre of the hall, with his hands clasped over his
head like the solitary arch of a ruined Gothic aisle, stood Ericson.

His agony had grown within him--the agony of the silence that brooded
immovable throughout the infinite, whose sea would ripple to no breath
of the feeble tempest of his prayers. At length it broke from him in low
but sharp sounds of words.

'O God,' he said, 'if thou art, why dost thou not speak? If I am thy
handiwork--dost thou forget that which thou hast made?'

He paused, motionless, then cried again:

'There can be no God, or he would hear.'

'God has heard me!' said a full-toned voice of feminine tenderness
somewhere in the air. Looking up, Ericson saw the dim form of Mary
St. John half-way up the side of the lofty hall. The same moment she
vanished--trembling at the sound of her own voice.

Thus to Ericson as to Robert had she appeared as an angel.

And was she less of a divine messenger because she had a human body,
whose path lay not through the air? The storm of misery folded its wings
in Eric's bosom, and, at the sound of her voice, there was a great calm.
Nor if we inquire into the matter shall we find that such an effect
indicated anything derogatory to the depth of his feelings or the
strength of his judgment. It is not through the judgment that a troubled
heart can be set at rest. It needs a revelation, a vision; a something
for the higher nature that breeds and infolds the intellect, to
recognize as of its own, and lay hold of by faithful hope. And what
fitter messenger of such hope than the harmonious presence of a woman,
whose form itself tells of highest law, and concord, and uplifting
obedience; such a one whose beauty walks the upper air of noble
loveliness; whose voice, even in speech, is one of the 'sphere-born
harmonious sisters? The very presence of such a being gives Unbelief the
lie, deep as the throat of her lying. Harmony, which is beauty and
law, works necessary faith in the region capable of truth. It needs the
intervention of no reasoning. It is beheld. This vi