Moḥammad arose trembling, and went to Khadeejeh, and told her what he had seen; and she did her woman’s part, and believed in him and soothed his terror, and bade him hope for the future. Yet he could not believe in himself. Was he not perhaps mad, possessed by a devil? Were these voices of a truth from God? And so he went again on his solitary wanderings, hearing strange sounds, and thinking them at one time the testimony of Heaven, at another the temptings of Satan or the ravings of madness. Doubting, wondering, hoping, he had fain put an end to a life which had become intolerable in its changings from the heaven of hope to the hell of despair, when again he heard the voice, ‘Thou art the messenger of God, and I am Gabriel.’ Conviction at length seized hold upon him; he was indeed to bring a message of good tidings to the Arabs, the message of God through His angel Gabriel. He went back to Khadeejeh exhausted in mind and body. ‘Wrap me, wrap me,’ he said; and the word came unto him— O thou enwrapped in thy mantle Arise and warn! And thy Lord,—magnify Him! And thy raiment,—purify it! And the abomination,—flee it! And bestow not favours that thou mayest receive again with increase, And for thy Lord wait thou patiently. There are those who see imposture in all this; for such I have no answer. Nor does it matter whether in a hysterical fit or under any physical disease soever Moḥammad saw these visions and heard these voices. We are not concerned to draw the lines of demarcation between enthusiasm and ecstasy and inspiration. It is sufficient that Moḥammad _did_ see these things—the subjective creations of a tormented mind. It is sufficient that he believed them to be a message from on high, and that for years of neglect and persecution and for years of triumph and conquest he acted upon his belief.