Once more, profounder, nearer, clearer, it rolled harmonious.
Yet, againa distinct voice passed between Heaven and Earth.
"Eva!"
If Eva were not this woman's name, she had none. She rose.
"Here am I."
"Eva!"
"Oh. Night! (it can be but Night that speaks) I am here!"
The voice, descending, reached Earth.
"Eva!"
"Lord!" she cried, "behold thine handmaid!"
She had her religion: all tribes held some creed.
"I come: a Comforter!"
"Lord, come quickly!"
The Evening flushed full of hope: the Air panted; the Moon—rising before—ascended large, but her light showed no shape.
"Lean towards me, Eva. Enter my arms; repose thus."
"Thus I lean, O Invisible, but felt! And what art thou?"
"Eva, I have brought a living draught from Heaven. Daughter of Man, drink of my cup!"
"I drink—it is as if sweetest dew visited my lips in a full current. My arid heart revives: my affliction is lightened: my strait and struggle are
