A shivering movement went over the moth.  The wings drooped and spread wider.  Mrs. Comstock sank into soft awed tones.

“There never was a moment in my life,” she said, “when I felt so in the Presence, as I do now.  I feel as if the Almighty were so real, and so near, that I could reach out and touch Him, as I could this wonderful work of His, if I dared.  I feel like saying to Him:  ’To the extent of my brain power I realize Your presence, and all it is in me to comprehend of Your power.  Help me to learn, even this late, the lessons of Your wonderful creations.  Help me to unshackle and expand my soul to the fullest realization of Your wonders.  Almighty God, make me bigger, make me broader!’”

The moth climbed to the end of the projection, up it a little way, then suddenly reversed its wings, turned the hidden sides out and dropped them beside its abdomen, like a large fly.  The upper side of the wings, thus exposed, was far richer colour, more exquisite texture than the under, and they slowly half lifted and drooped again.  Mrs. Comstock turned her face to Philip.

“Am I an old fool, or do you feel it, too?” she half whispered.

“You are wiser than you ever have been before,” answered he.  “I feel it, also.”

“And I,” breathed Elnora.

The moth spread its wings, shivered them tremulously, opening and closing them rapidly.  Philip handed the box to Elnora.

She shook her head.

“I can’t take that one,” she said.  “Give her freedom.”

“But, Elnora,” protested Mrs. Comstock, “I don’t want to let her go.  She’s mine.  She’s the first one I ever found this way.  Can’t you put her in a big box, and let her live, without hurting her?  I can’t bear to let her go.  I want to learn all about her.”

“Then watch while we gather these on the trees,” said Elnora.  “We will take her home until night and then decide what to do.  She won’t fly for a long time yet.”

Mrs. Comstock settled on the ground, gazing at the moth.  Elnora and Philip went to the baited trees, placing several large moths and a number of smaller ones in the cyanide jar, and searching the bushes beyond where they found several paired specimens of differing families.  When they returned Elnora showed her mother how to hold her hand before the moth so that it would climb upon her fingers.  Then they started back to the cabin, Elnora and Philip leading the way; Mrs. Comstock followed slowly, stepping with great care lest she stumble and injure the moth.  Her face wore a look of comprehension, in her eyes was an exalted light.  On she came to the blue-bordered pool lying beside her path.

A turtle scrambled from a log and splashed into the water, while a red-wing shouted, “O-ka-lee!” to her.  Mrs. Comstock paused and looked intently at the slime-covered quagmire, framed in a flower riot and homed over by sweet-voiced birds.  Then she gazed at the thing of incomparable beauty clinging to her fingers and said softly:  “If you had known about wonders like these in the days of your youth, Robert Comstock, could you ever have done what you did?”