ng. Now
every nest held happy mates, and hart and hind slumbered blissfully safe
in their lair.

The girl sat, her body still, her soul astir; occupied, however, rather
in feeling than in thinking, in wishing than hoping, in imagining than
projecting. She felt the world, the sky, the night, boundlessly mighty.
Of all things herself seemed to herself the centre--a small, forgotten
atom of life, a spark of soul, emitted inadvertent from the great
creative source, and now burning unmarked to waste in the heart of a
black hollow. She asked, was she thus to burn out and perish, her living
light doing no good, never seen, never needed--a star in an else
starless firmament, which nor shepherd, nor wanderer, nor sage, nor
priest tracked as a guide or read as a prophecy? Could this be, she
demanded, when the flame of her intelligence burned so vivid; when her
life beat so true, and real, and potent; when something within her
stirred disquieted, and restlessly asserted a God-given strength, for
which it insisted she should find exercise?

She gazed abroad on Heaven and Evening. Heaven and Evening gazed back on
her. She bent down, searching bank, hill, river, spread dim below. All
she questioned responded by oracles. She heard--she was impressed; but
she could not understand. Above her head she raised her hands joined
together.

"Guidance--help--comfort--come!" was her cry.

There was no voice, nor any that answered.

She waited, kneeling, steadfastly looking up. Yonder sky was sealed; the
solemn stars shone alien and remote.

At last one overstretched chord of her agony slacked; she thought
Something above relented; she felt as if Something far round drew
nigher; she heard as if Silence spoke. There was no language, no word,
only a tone.

Again--a fine, full, lofty tone, a deep, soft sound, like a storm
whispering, made twilight undulate.

Once more, profounder, nearer, clearer, it rolled harmonious.

Yet again--a distinct voice passed between Heaven and Earth.

"Eva!"

If Eva were not this woman's name, she had none. She rose. "Here am I."

"Eva!"

"O Night (it can be but Night that speaks), I am here!"

The voice, descending, reached Earth.

"Eva!"

"Lord," she cried, "behold thine handmaid!"

She had her religion--all tribes held some creed.

"I come--a Comforter!"

"Lord, come quickly!"

The Evening flushed full of hope; the Air panted; the Moon--rising
before--ascended large, but her light showed