Matthew snapped his fingers. "It went, like that! I simply didn't hold to it, that was all."
"Did you ever try to believe again?" asked Ellen.
"No; why should I? I don't want you to think I don't believe anything. When I come up here and the wind is blowing, it seems to me that I get an idea about God, greater than was ever thought of down in those little rooms. But I can't get hold of it. Perhaps some day I shall. It's only that He is and that He's here. I can't describe it."
A long sigh stirred the leaves above them. Ellen was disturbed.
"There's surely going to be a storm, and we should go down."
As she rose there was a bright flash of lightning and the oaks began to sing. She held out her hand.
"Let's run, Matthew!"
Matthew took the hand and lifted it. Thus they stood for a second, their arms outstretched, and then plunged down the smooth field and into the yard. In the doorway Matthew called Millie, but she did not answer. He went upstairs to find her, but she was not there. Both the children were asleep and pinned to the pin-cushion on the bureau, in true melodramatic fashion, was a note. Matthew read it and returned to the kitchen.
"Where is she?" asked Ellen.