"Is he near enough?"
"He is always near."
"Are you sure?" said the mother-bird. "What can we do to help her?"
"I do not know," replied the mate, "except it is to sing his praise. Perhaps she may listen, and understand one day how good he is."
So all the spring, the little happy creatures chirped and sang, until the nestlings were fledged, and the whole family flew away.
But their songs had penetrated deep into the priestess' heart. And one night, when the Enemy was absent, and the wild beasts prowling far away, she threw herself on the earth before her desecrated altar, and lamented and wept. But for the first time her lamentations, instead of solitary, hopeless wailings, echoing back from the ruined walls, became a broken cry for help.
"Thou, if thou art indeed so good—if thou art indeed near, come and help me," she sobbed; "repair my ruins, and save me."
And for the first time, as she wept and implored, she felt the weight of her fetters binding hand and foot, and, clasping her chained hands, she cried more earnestly, "Come and set me free!"
And before the day dawned, a voice came softly through the silence—
"I will come."