stributed to every field.

"It is great." Elijah was speaking with solemn voice. "It was all
revealed to me. The work is too great for me alone, I must have help. I
shall have to give up to others, but not too much. They must not push me
too hard. I shall be guided. But this shall be my work alone." He swept
his whip again over the barren hillsides. "Yours and mine. I shall need
your help. I have never had human help before, nor human sympathy. What
little help I have had, was because I could promise money, money! What
is money beside this great work? Just think! I shall make this, all this
a living green. 'The desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose. It
shall bloom abundantly and rejoice even with joy and singing.'" Elijah's
eyes swept over the hills, his hands outstretched as if to gather to
them the fruits of his vision.

"This is my especial work; yours and mine. I was going to do it all
alone, but it was not to be. Why else did I trust you and why else did
you see what I believed was for my eyes alone?" He bent his eyes full
upon Helen. She looked shrinkingly into their solemn distance. The
conviction was forcing itself upon her that she could of herself have
nothing to say. There was more than fame, more than glory and wealth in
the vision he was forcing her to see as he saw; something great to be
done, a life to be lived too great to be measured by the petty standards
of humanity, and thus beyond her power to gauge; something above her,
beyond her, yet enveloping her like the air she breathed.

He laid his hand on hers, not questioningly, but masterfully, and
without power to resist, she felt his clasp tighten. She heard his
voice; words that hummed and throbbed, lulling her to a numb
insensibility to all but the thoughts she felt, rather than heard. She
saw the visions he saw, heard the voice that he heard, and she followed,
not him, but the vision and the voice. She shrank without motion; but
she knew that she must follow. Sorrow was nothing, regret was nothing;
only the vision that beckoned, the voice that called, these were
everything. She would have given worlds to have been beyond their spell;
but the eyes that were looking into hers she could not turn away from,
the clasp of the hand that held her, she could not shake off. Her
eyelids drooped, but they could not shut from her sight the great,
solemn eyes that balanced and swung, grew large and small, but ever
burned and burrowed into her soul.

El