She did not know that she was cold, exhausted; so exhausted that the morning-star in the outer heaven and the morning-star in her soul were to her the same.

They stooped together, they merged into one great light, heralding a perfect day presently to be.
The night was over, and that other long night of travail and patience and faith, and strong rowing in darkness against the stream, was over, too, at last--at last.

_The book was finished_.
The tears fell slowly from Hester's eyes on to her clasped hands, those blessed tears which no human hand shall ever intervene to wipe away.
To some of us Christ comes in the dawn of the spiritual life walking upon the troubled waves of art.

And we recognize Him, and would fain go to meet Him.

But our companions and our own fears dissuade us.