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 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 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 are no such things he cannot become conscious of a harmony that has no existence; he cannot thus deceive himself;if there are, they must yet remain doubtful until the harmony between them and his own willing nature is established.The perception of this harmony is their only and incommunicable proof.
For this process time is needful; and therefore we are saved by hope.Hence it is no wonder that before another half-hour was over, Ericson was asleep by Robert's side.
They were aroused in the cold gray light of the morning by the blast of Hector's horn.Miss St.John was ready in a moment.The coach was waiting for them at the end of the grassy road that led from the house.Hector put them all inside.Before they reached Rothieden the events of the night began to wear the doubtful aspect of a dream.No allusion was made to what had occurred while Robert slept; but all the journey Ericson felt towards Miss St.John as Wordsworth felt towards the leech-gatherer, who, he says, waslike a man from some far region sent, To give me human strength, by apt admonishment.
And Robert saw a certain light in her eyes which reminded him of how she looked when, having repented of her momentary hardness towards him, she was ministering to his wounded head.
