The sudden
thought of Him came upon her in the darkness like a thunderbolt. In all
her life Dinah had never asked for anything outside her daily prayers
which were of a strictly formal description. She had shouldered her own
troubles unassisted with the philosophy of a disposition that was
essentially happy. She had seldom given a serious thought to the life of
the spirit. It was all so vague to her, so far removed from the daily
round and the daily burden. But now--face to face with the coming
night--the spiritual awoke in her. Her soul cried out for comfort.
With Isabel still clasped in her failing arms, she began a desperate
prayer for help. Her words came haltingly. They sounded strange to
herself. But with all the strength that remained she sent forth her cry
to the Infinite. And even as she prayed there came to her--whence she
knew not--the conviction that somewhere--probably not more than a couple
of miles from her though the darkness made the distance seem
immeasurable--Scott was praying too. That thought had a wonderfully
comforting effect upon her. His prayer was so much more likely to be
answered than hers. He was just the sort of man who would know how to
pray.
"How I wish he were here!" she whispered piteously into the darkness. "I
shouldn't be afraid of dying--if only he were here."
She was certain--quite certain--that had he been there with her, no fear
would have reached her.
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