Juana though grieved at his long delays, had opportunity for rest from the whirl of gayeties, and for the first time in her life thought and conscience seemed to be awakening. Young as she was, she could enter somewhat into the experience of another one who "laid hold on folly," and found it "vanity and vexation of spirit." Of late an unaccountable feeling of depression and self-condemnation would sometimes steal over her. A voice seemed often to ask her, "If this was all of life, to frolic away a few brief days and die, and then—what? Could it be that death was the end?" One evening during her husband's absence, she walked in the grounds with her maid, and paused by the old stone gateway to watch a little group of Protestants on their way to a prayer meeting in the small chapel just beyond. She felt sad and lonely, and wished that some of those peaceful-faced women could speak to her, so that she might find out what it was that made them seem so different from all others.
"Those people are happy, Ria," she said to the maid; "they look as if they had found something that rests them. I wish I knew what it was." And Ria, casting a puzzled glance at her young mistress, wondered what she had to weary her. Juana dismissed her maid after a little and betook herself to an upper veranda, where the music of sweet hymns from the little chapel stole softly up on the evening breeze. The tender airs melted her to tears, and an unutterable yearning for something better and higher than she had ever known filled her heart. It was the first dawning cry of an immortal soul, unsatisfied with earthly good, seeking for its God.
These feelings did not pass away with the next morning's sunlight. She felt wretched and dissatisfied, and gloom settled down upon her. This could not be accounted for by the long absence of her husband; for when he returned for a brief stay the solemn thoughts still oppressed her, though she tried to shake them off and appear as usual. Genuine affection would have detected and searched out with tender sympathy the trouble that just hinted itself in the sobered look of the dark eyes. But Paul liked sunshine and laughter; and, true to his selfish nature, was only annoyed that his wife seemed to be taking on something of the dignity of womanhood, and was less like a butterfly or a frisky kitten.
There was a fascination to Juana in watching the small company of worshipers go to and from the chapel. One evening, as the melody of their hymns floated up to her, she became possessed of a desire to come nearer to the heavenly sounds. So, enveloping her head and shoulders in a large veil, she glided softly forth into the moonlight alone; her husband was down in the city and would not return until late. She was glad to go alone, though for some reason that she did not herself understand. She stole silently along, and stood under the shadow of the trees where she could observe without being seen. Now their heads were bowed in prayer. In the earnest petitions from one and another she often caught the name "God." She had never heard it in English. If they had spoken the word in her own language, though, no distinct idea would have been conveyed to her; only a dim, shadowy something that she had heard of long ago.
Soon they broke out into song again:
"Come, happy souls, approach your God
With new melodious songs."
Although Juana could converse in simple broken words in English, she could comprehend scarcely nothing of what she now heard; and yet the music thrilled and animated her. How joyful these faces and voices were, and yet subdued and tender, and they sang about "God"—that same name! Still she lingered as if fascinated until the closing hymn, that lullaby for trusting souls in all ages:
"Glory to thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light:
Keep me, O keep me, King of kings,
Beneath thine own almighty wings."
And still they sang that same name—"God." If only the poor heart standing there in the shadows could know about the "Almighty wings!" Juana did not forget the sound of the new name she had heard—that Being to whom those people prayed and sang praises, and read about in their Bible. If she could but read English and have one of their Bibles, then she should know all about Him! Oh! If somebody would tell her about Him.
"If those English people know about God, why should not Paul?" she mused, as they sat together one afternoon.