There was no voice, nor any that answered.
She waited, kneeling, steadfastly looking up. Yonder sky was sealed; the solemn stars shone alien and remote.
At last one overstretched chord of her agony slacked; she thought Something above relented; she felt as if Something far round drew nigher; she heard as if Silence spoke. There was no language, no word, only a tone.
Again—a fine, full, lofty tone, a deep, soft sound, like a storm whispering, made twilight undulate.
Once more, profounder, nearer, clearer, it rolled harmonious.
Yet again—a distinct voice passed between Heaven and Earth.
"Eva!"
If Eva were not this woman's name, she had none. She rose. "Here am I."
"Eva!"
"O Night (it can be but Night that speaks), I am here!"