"But if I abase and know myself to be nothing, if I renounce all self-esteem and (as I am) account myself to be but dust; thy grace will be favorable unto me, and thy light will be near unto my heart. "And all self-esteem, how little soever, shall be swallowed up in the deep valley of my nothingness, and perish everlastingly. "There thou showest thyself unto me, what I am, what I have been, and whither I am come; for I am nothing and I knew it not. "And if I be left to myself, behold, I become nothing and all weakness. "But if thou lookest upon me, I am made strong." The light had entered the darkened soul. The Spirit used a few texts of Scripture and the devout words of an old monk to teach him "that all our righteousness is as filthy rags," and that "the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." The old miracle was repeated in him. In silence and quiet the change went on. A proud, ambitious, self-seeking man, learning to pray with that other saint: "Grant me, O, most gracious and loving Jesus, to rest in thee above all creatures: "Above all health and beauty, above all glory and honor, above all power and dignity, above all knowledge and subtlety, above all riches and arts, above all joy and gladness, above all hope and promise, above all desert and desire; above all gifts and presents that thou canst give and impart unto us: above all joy and triumph that the mind of man can receive and feel." A year went away, and the stars of Christmas night glowed in the sky as brightly as long ago, "when shepherds watched their flocks by night," and "the angel of the Lord came down." Mr. Lynde, as he walked and thought—thought of that night, "within that province far away," to which his destiny was now "linked" in a peculiar and tender relation. He would not have been human not to have recalled that other night, too, a year ago. So he walked the silent, moonlight streets, and repeated softly— "'In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago,'" He might walk and walk miles, though, it would not bring that other one who walked by his side then. He might not have sighed so heavily at that thought if his vision could have compassed distance and known who watched the stars with him. That these two paths should ever cross again, would seem as impossible as that two small ships adrift on the wide ocean should "speak" each other. The ingenuity and perseverance with which he had prosecuted the search all these months was something remarkable. As Boston is the metropolis of Massachusetts, he made business trips to Boston, and the "business" was to walk the streets, haunt picture galleries, attend lectures and concerts, always searching for one face. He read Boston papers, especially the list of marriages and deaths. He took the westward journey many times, hoping she might have repeated the visit to Aunt Ruth. Once he ventured to send her a letter through the Boston post-office, and it came back to himself.