“The world shall be turned into the old silence seven days, like as in former judgments, so that no man shall remain.
“And after seven days, the world, that yet awaketh not, shall be raised up; and that shall die that is corrupt.
“And the earth shall restore those that are asleep in her; and the dust, those that dwell in silence; and the secret places shall deliver those souls that were committed unto them.
“And the Most High shall appear upon the seat of judgment, and misery shall pass away, and the long suffering shall have an end.
“But judgment shall remain; truth shall stand; and faith shall wax strong.”
“I know nothing of these things, David; I cannot think of them. What I want is some word of comfort about Vala–a little word from beyond would make all the difference. Why is it not given? Why is there no answering voice from the other side? There is none on this. Why does God pursue a poor, broken-hearted woman so hardly? Even now, when I have wept my heart cold and dumb, I do not please him. One thing only is sure–my misery. Oh, why, why, David?”
And David could only drop his eyes before the sad, inquiring gaze of Nanna’s. He murmured something about Adam and the cross, and told her sorrowfully that He who hung upon it, forsaken, in the dark, also asked, “Why?” The austerity and profound mystery of his creed gave him no more comforting answer to the pathetic inquiry.
He spent the day in the little hamlet, and, the weather being dry and not very cold, he persuaded Nanna to take a walk upon the cliff-top with him. She agreed because she had not the strength to oppose his desire; but if David had had any experience with suffering women, he would have seen at once how ineffectual his effort would be. The gray, icy, indifferent sea had nothing hopeful to say to her. The gray gulls, with their stern, cold eyes, watchful and hungry, filled her ears with nothing but painful clamoring. There was no voice in nature to cry, “Comfort,” to a bruised soul.
She said the wind hurt her, that she was tired, that she would rather sit still in the house and shut her eyes and think of Vala. She leaned so heavily on him that David was suddenly afraid, and he looked with more scrutiny into her face. If his eyes had been opened he would have seen over its youth and beauty signs of a hand that writes but once; for when despair assumes the dignity of patience it carries with it the warrant of death.
They went slowly and silently back to the house, and as they approached it David said, “Some one has called, for the door is open.” And they walked a little faster, so that Nanna’s cheeks flushed with the movement and the wind.