the little misunderstanding that has parted them. She was bold with
Him, though she was so timid by nature, and ventured to laugh at
herself, not to reproach herself--for His divine eyes spoke no blame,
but smiled upon her folly too. And then He laid a hand upon her head,
which seemed to fill her with currents of strength and joy running
through all her veins. And then she seemed to come to herself saying
loud out, "And that I will! and that I will!" and lo, she was kneeling
on the warm soft sod alone, and hearing the sound of His footsteps as He
went about His Father's business, filling all the air with echoes of
blessing. And all the people who were coming and going smiled upon her,
and she knew they were all glad for her that she had seen Him, and got
the desire of her heart. Some of them waved their hands as they passed,
and some paused a moment and spoke to her with tender congratulations.
They seemed to have the tears in their eyes for joy, remembering every
one the first time they had themselves seen Him, and the joy of it; so
that all about there sounded a concord of happy thoughts all echoing to
each other, "She has seen the Lord!"

Why did she say, "And that I will! and that I will!" with such fervour
and delight? She could not have told but yet she knew. The first thing
was that she had yet to wait and believe until all things should be
accomplished, neither doubting nor fearing, but knowing that all should
be well; and the second was that she must delay no longer, but rise up
and serve the Father according to what was given her as her reward. When
she had recovered a little of her rapture she rose from her knees, and
stood still for a moment to be sure which way she was to go. And she was
not aware what guided her, but yet turned her face in the appointed way
without any doubt. For doubt was now gone away for ever, and that fear
that once gave her so much trouble lest she might not be doing what was
best. As she moved along she wondered at herself more and more. She felt
no longer, as at first, like the child she remembered to have been,
venturing out in the awful lovely stillness of the morning before any
one was awake; but she felt that to move along was a delight, and that
her foot scarcely touched the grass, and her whole being was instinct
with such lightness of strength and life that it did not matter to her
how far she went, nor what she carried, nor if the way was easy or hard.
The way she chose was o