But there was none to answer me, and I drove along before the wind with the rest, helpless, bewildered. How long this lasted I do not know; for there was neither night nor day in the sad place; and a fire of longing burnt in my breast, so keen, so strong, that all other sensation was swallowed up. And then, too, my grief! There were many deeds of my life to which I had given but casual regret. When the minister would counsel us to confess our sins to God, I had knelt in the church and gone through the form; but here, where the height and depth and breadth of God's perfection dawned upon me, and grew hourly clearer, they seemed to rend my heart, and to far outweigh any little good I might have done. Oh! why did no one ever preach the justice of God to me, and the necessity of personal atonement! Why had they only taught me, "Believe, and you shall be saved?" Time by time, the shapes about me rose and vanished with the same cry as the two I saw liberated in my first hour; and sometimes--like an echo--the sound of human voices would go through space--some choked with tears, some low with sadness, some glad with hope. "Eternal rest grant to them, O Lord!" "And let perpetual light shine upon them!" "May they rest in peace!" And the "Amen" tolled like a silver bell, and I would feel a respite. But no one called me by name, no one prayed for my freedom. My mother's voice, my sister's dream, my father's belief--all were that I was happy before the face of God. And friends forgot me, except in their pleasures. At seasons, through the mist would loom an altar, at which a man, in black robes embroidered with silver, bowed and bent. The chalice, with its always wonderful contents, would be raised, and a disc, in whose circle of whiteness I saw Christ crucified. From the thorn-wounds, the Hands, the Feet, the Side, shot rays of dazzling brightness; and my frozen soul, my tear-chilled eyes, were warmed and gladdened; for the man who held this wondrous image would himself sigh: "For _all_ the dead, sweet Lord!" And to me, even me, would come hope and peace. But, oh! the agony, oh! the desolateness, to be cut off from the sweet guerdon of immediate release! Oh! the pain of expiating every fault, measure for measure! Oh, the grief of knowing that my own deeds were the chains of my captivity, and my unfulfilled duties the barriers that withheld me from beholding the Beatific Vision! Sometimes a gracious face would gleam through the mist--a face so tender, so human, so full of love, that I yearned to hear it speak to _me_, to have those radiant eyes turned on _me_. My companions called her "Mary!" and I knew it was the Virgin of Nazareth. Often she would call them by name, and say: "My child, my Son bids thee come home." Why had I never known this gentle Mother! Why could I not catch her mantle, and clinging to it, pass from waiting to fulfilment!