All her prim acquired English fell from her, and she turned back to the phraseology of her mountain people. Her thoughts ran out in a medley of confused, disjointed sentences, such as she had been accustomed to hear in shouting revivals in her church: ejaculations, snatches of hymns, remembered terms of the lumber camps--an overflowing of the spirit that clothed itself in any words that came. “We’ve broke through, we’ve broke through,” she whispered that, over and over. “O my Lord! We’ve broke through! Freedom--freedom! There ain’t nothin’ big enough to hold it. ‘Shout, you mourners, you shall be free’--free in the Lord! The deep channel! The deep channel! He’s safe now, like I am! We ain’t hung up in the shallers no more--the jam’s broke an’ we’re out in the deep channel of the river, traveling free in the peace of the Lord.” An ecstasy of depths of peace and stillness engulfed her, a vision of the enormousness and profundity of life which was God, so that the tears ran down over her illumined face. “O my Lord!” she whispered, over and over, “O my Lord, you’ve fetched us home! You’ve give us sight. We ain’t just ourselves no more. You’ve showed us a vision of the other folks--my sister, my brother! An’ now we’re free. There’s freedom in the world for the little scary folks if they go down deep enough. We _are_ free!” she cried. “My love, my honey, my dear love, we’re safe at last! We’re traveling free in the vision of the Lord!” She stared out of the window at the long stretches of mountains and valleys, with the sky above, and knew a deep kinship with them, as well. “Freedom,” she thought. “Nothin’ can’t hold it all. Nothin’ kin hold me. I kin stretch out all acrost the mountains, an’ lay down in the sky, an’ I’m deep-rooted in the everlastin’ hills. O my Lord, O my Lord!” The breathless ejaculations flowed away into complete silence, where only the tears running from her closed eyes could express the ecstasy of adoration that held her. She still inhabited the same small and meagre body, but the spirit that flowed through her now was free of all the world, and with it came an enormous outstretching compassion, understanding, and tenderness for all suffering. An hour later she stepped off the train at Hart’s Run. It was a morning in late September. An intense sparkling light fell over the world, driving the mists away from the parti-colored hills, and disclosing the immense dome of the blue sky. Gathering up her hand luggage, Julie walked lightly along the familiar platform, her footsteps answering the rhythm of the words, “I’ve come home, I’ve come home.” The first person to see her was Edward Black. He was pushing a truckload of trunks, and when he caught sight of her he stopped dead and half sat down upon the truck handles to gaze in stupefaction. “Julie Rose! _You_ back?” he cried. She met his eyes steadily, gazing forth at him from that deep centre of herself. “Yes, Ed, I’m back. I’ve come home,” she answered.