'Why, no, papa! I do not mean anything mystical.'
'Will you explain yourself?'
Esther paused, thinking how she should do this. When one has used the simplest words in one's vocabulary, and is called upon to expound them by the use of others less simple, the task is somewhat critical. The colonel watched with a sort of disturbed pleasure the thoughtful, clear brow, the grave eyes which had become so sweet. The intelligence at work there, he saw, was no longer that of a child; the sweetness was no longer the blank of unconscious ignorance, but the wisdom of some blessed knowledge. What did she know that was hidden from his experience?
'Papa, it is very difficult to tell you,' Esther began. 'I used to know about the things in the Bible, and I had learned whole chapters by heart; but that was all. I did not know much more than the name of Christ,—and His history, of course, and His words.'
'What more could you know?' inquired the colonel, in increasing astonishment.
'That's just it, papa; I did not know Himself. You know what you mean when you say you don't know somebody. I mean just that.'
'But, Esther, that sounds to me very like—very like—an improper use of language,' said the colonel, stammering. 'How can you know Him, as you speak?'
'I can't tell you, papa. I think He showed Himself to me.'
'Showed Himself! Do you mean in a vision?'
'Oh no, papa!' said Esther, smiling. 'I have not seen His face, not literally. But He has somehow showed me how good He is, and how glorious; and has made me understand how He loves me, and how He is with me; so that I do not feel alone any more. I don't think I ever shall feel alone again.'