But alas! _out_ was very much like _in_, for the same enemy, the
darkness, was here also. The next moment, however, came a great
gladness--a firefly, which had wandered in from the garden. She saw
the tiny spark in the distance. With slow pulsing ebb and throb of
light, it came pushing itself through the air, drawing nearer and
nearer, with that motion which more resembles swimming than flying,
and the light seemed the source of its own motion.

"My lamp! my lamp!" cried Nycteris. "It is the shiningness of my lamp,
which the cruel darkness drove out. My good lamp has been waiting for
me here all the time! It knew I would come after it, and waited to
take me with it."

She followed the firefly, which, like herself, was seeking the way
out. If it did not know the way, it was yet light; and, because all
light is one, any light may serve to guide to more light. If she was
mistaken in thinking it the spirit of her lamp, it was of the same
spirit as her lamp--and had wings. The gold-green jet-boat, driven by
light, went throbbing before her through a long narrow passage.
Suddenly it rose higher, and the same moment Nycteris fell upon an
ascending stair. She had never seen a stair before, and found going-up
a curious sensation. Just as she reached what seemed the top, the
firefly ceased to shine, and so disappeared. She was in utter darkness
once more. But when we are following the light, even its extinction is
a guide. If the firefly had gone on shining, Nycteris would have seen
the stair turn, and would have gone up to Watho's bedroom; whereas
now, feeling straight before her, she came to a latched door, which
after a good deal of trying she managed to open--and stood in a maze
of wondering perplexity, awe, and delight. What was it? Was it outside