"Oh, Dennis, forgive me; I cannot deceive you; for a time I forgot
you, I forgot everything, and just wandered through Paradise alone.
But in your sleep you called me to your help, and now it seems as if
I could not be happy even there without you. I pray you, in Christ's
stead, be reconciled to God," she pleaded, falling into the familiar
language of Scripture, as she often did under strong emotion. Then,
in low, thrilling words, she portrayed to him the "new earth" of her
vision, wherein "God shall wipe away all tears, and there shall be no
more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more
pain." She showed him that all might still be well--that eternity was
long enough to make up for the ills of our brief troubled life here.
But his mind seemed preoccupied. These future joys did not take that
hold upon him that she earnestly desired. His eyes seemed to grow dim
in tender, tearful wistfulness, rather than become inspired with
immortal hopes. At last he spoke:

"Ethel, it seemed as if I heard some one calling me. I woke up--and
there you--were praying--for me. I heard my name--I heard God's
name--and I knew that you were interceding for me. It seemed to break
my hard heart right up like the fountains of the great deep to see you
there--praying for me--in the cold, cold room." (The room was not
cold; it was not the winter's chill that he was feeling, but a chill
that comes over the heart even in the tropical summer.) "Then, as you
prayed, a great light seemed to shine into my soul. I saw that I had
been charging God unjustly with all my failures and misfortunes, when
I had to thank myself for them. Like a wilful child, I had been acting
as if God had but to carry out my wild schemes. I remembered all my
unreasonable murmurings and anger; I remembered the dreadful words I
was on the point of uttering tonight, and for a moment it seemed as
if the pit would open and swallow me up."