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up gloriously。
Then first Robert bethought himself that they had nothing to eat。
He himself was full of merriment； and cared nothing about eating；
for had he not Miss St。 John and Ericson there？ but for them
something must be provided。 He took his lantern and went back
through the storm。 The hail had ceased； but the wind blew
tremendously。 The coach stood upon the bridge like a stranded
vessel； its two lamps holding doubtful battle with the wind； now
flaring out triumphantly； now almost yielding up the ghost。 Inside；
the guard was snoring in defiance of the pother o'er his head。
'Hector！ Hector！' cried Robert。
'Ay； ay；' answered Hector。 'It's no time to wauken yet。'
'Hae ye nae basket； Hector； wi' something to eat in 'tnaething
gaein' to Rothieden 'at a body micht say by yer leave till？'
'Ow！ it's you； is 't？' returned Hector； rousing himself。 'Na。 Deil
ane。 An' gin I had； I daurna gie ye 't。'
'I wad mak free to steal 't； though； an' tak my chance；' said
Robert。 'But ye say ye hae nane？'
'Nane； I tell ye。 Ye winna hunger afore the mornin'； man。'
'I'll stan' hunger as weel 's you ony day； Hector。 It's no for
mysel'。 There's Miss St。 John。'
'Hoots！' said Hector； peevishly； for he wanted to go to sleep again；
'gang and mak luve till her。 Nae lass 'll think o' meat as lang 's
ye do that。 That 'll haud her ohn hungert。'
The words were like blasphemy in Robert's ear。 He make love to Miss
St。 John！ He turned from the coach…door in disgust。 But there was
no place he knew of where anything could be had； and he must return
empty…handed。
The light of the fire shone through a little hole in the boards that
closed the window。 His lamp had gone out； but； guided by that； he
found the road again； and felt his way up the stairs。 When he
entered the room he saw Miss St。 John sitting on the floor； for
there was nowhere else to sit； with the guard's coat under her。 She
had taken off her bonnet。 Her back leaned against the side of the
chimney； and her eyes were bent thoughtfully on the ground。 In
their shine Robert read instinctively that Ericson had said
something that had set her thinking。 He lay on the floor at some
distance； leaning on his elbow； and his eye had the flash in it that
indicates one who has just ceased speaking。 They had not found his
absence awkward at least。
'I hae been efter something to eat；' said Robert； 'but I canna fa'
in wi' onything。 We maun jist tell stories or sing sangs； as fowk
do in buiks； or else Miss St。 John 'ill think lang。'
They did sing songs； and they did tell stories。 I will not trouble
my reader with more than the sketch of one which Robert toldthe
story of the old house wherein they sata house without a history；
save the story of its no history。 It had been built for the
jointure…house of a young countess； whose husband was an old man。 A
lover to whom she had turned a deaf ear had left the country；
begging ere he went her acceptance of a lovely Italian grayhound。
She was weak enough to receive the animal。 Her husband died the
same year； and before the end of it the dog went mad； and bit her。
According to the awful custom of the time they smothered her
between two feather…beds； just as the house of Bogbonnie was ready
to receive her furniture； and become her future dwelling。 No one
had ever occupied it。
If Miss St。 John listened to story and song without as much show of
feeling as Mysie Lindsay would have manifested； it was not that she
entered into them less deeply。 It was that she was more； not felt
less。
Listening at her window once with Robert； Eric Ericson had heard
Mary St。 John play： this was their first meeting。 Full as his mind
was of Mysie； he could not fail to feel the charm of a noble；
stately womanhood that could give support； instead of rousing
sympathy for helplessness。 There was in the dignified simplicity of
Mary St。 John that which made every good man remember his mother；
and a good man will think this grand praise； though a fast girl will
take it for a doubtful compliment。
Seeing her begin to look weary； the young men spread a couch for her
as best they could； made up the fire； and telling her they would be
in the hall below； retired； kindled another fire； and sat down to
wait for the morning。 They held a long talk。 At length Robert fell
asleep on the floor。
Ericson rose。 One of his fits of impatient doubt was upon him。 In
the dying embers of the fire he strode up and down the waste hall；
with the storm raving around it。 He was destined to an early death；
he would leave no one of his kin to mourn for him； the girl whose
fair face had possessed his imagination； would not give one sigh to
his memory； wandering on through the regions of fancy all the same；
and the death…struggle over； he might awake in a godless void；
where； having no creative power in himself； he must be tossed about；
a conscious yet helpless atom； to eternity。 It was not annihilation
he feared； although he did shrink from the thought of
unconsciousness； it was life without law that he dreaded； existence
without the bonds of a holy necessity； thought without faith； being
without God。
For all her fatigue Miss St。 John could not sleep。 The house
quivered in the wind which howled more and more madly through its
long passages and empty rooms； and she thought she heard cries in
the midst of the howling。 In vain she reasoned with herself： she
could not rest。 She rose and opened the door of her room； with a
vague notion of being nearer to the young men。
It opened upon the narrow gallery； already mentioned as leading from
one side of the first floor to the other 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 himthe 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 handiworkdost 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 vanishedtrembling 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 visible Peace； with that voice of
woman's truth； said； 'God has heard me！' What better testimony
could an angel have brought him？ Or why should an angel's testimony
weigh more than such a woman's？ The mere understanding of a man
like Ericson would only have demanded of an angel proof that he was
an angel； proof that angels knew better than he did in the matter in
question； proof that they were not easy…going creatures that took
for granted the rumours of heaven。 The best that a miracle can do
is to give hope； of the objects of faith it can give no proof； one
spiritual testimony is worth a thousand of them。 For to gain the
sole proof of which these truths admit； a man must grow into harmony
with them。 If there a