At last Naomi’s terror was redoubled.  Every sound seemed to smite her body as a blow.  Hitherto she had known one sense only, the sense of touch, and though now she knew the sense of hearing also, she continued to refer all sensations to feeling.  At the sound of the sea she put out her arms before her; at the sound of the wind she buried her face in her palms; and at the sound of the thunder she lifted her hands as if to protect her head.

Meanwhile, Israel sat beside her and cherished her close at his bosom.  He yearned to speak words of comfort to her, soft words of cheer, tender words of love, gentle words of hope.

“Be not afraid, my daughter!  It is only the wind, it is only the rain; it is only the thunder.  Once you loved to run and race in them.  They shall not harm you, for God is good, and He will keep you safe.  There, there, my little heart!  See, your father is with you.  He will guard you.  Fear not, my child, fear not!”

Such were the words which Israel yearned to speak in Naomi’s ears, but, alas! what words could she understand any more than the wind which moaned about the house and the thunder which rolled overhead?  And again and again, alas! as surely as he spoke to her she must shrink from the solace of his voice even as she shrank from the tumult of the voices of the storm.

Israel fell back helpless and heartbroken.  He began to see in its fulness the change which had befallen Naomi, yet not at once to realise it, so sudden and so numbing was the stroke.  He began to know that with the mighty blessing for which he had hoped and prayed—­the blessing of a pathway to his daughter’s soul—­a misfortune had come as well.  What was it to him now that Naomi had ears to hear if she could not understand?  And what was this tempest to the maiden new-born out of the land of silence into the world of sound, yet still both blind and dumb, but a circle of darkness alive with creatures that groaned and cried and shrieked and moved around her?

Thus nothing could Israel do but watch the creeping of Naomi’s terror, and smooth her forehead and chafe her hands.  And this he did, until at length, in a fresh outbreak of the storm, when the vault of the heavens seemed rent asunder, a strong delirium took hold of her, and she fell into a long unconsciousness.  Then Israel held back his heart no longer, but wept above her, and called to her, and cried aloud upon her name—­

“Naomi!  Naomi!  My poor child!  My dearest!  Hear me!  It is nothing! nothing!  Listen!  It is gone!  Gone!”

With such passionate cries of love and sorrow; Israel gave vent to his soul in its trouble.  And while Naomi lay in her unconsciousness, he knew not what feelings possessed him, for his heart was in a great turmoil.  Desolate! desolate!  All was desolate!  His high-built hopes were in ashes!