The need for prayer came upon her suddenly as she realized that her faculties were failing.  Her belief in God was of that dim and far-off description that brings awe rather than comfort to the soul.  The sudden thought of Him came upon her in the darkness like a thunderbolt.  In all her life Dinah had never asked for anything outside her daily prayers which were of a strictly formal description.  She had shouldered her own troubles unassisted with the philosophy of a disposition that was essentially happy.  She had seldom given a serious thought to the life of the spirit.  It was all so vague to her, so far removed from the daily round and the daily burden.  But now—­face to face with the coming night—­the spiritual awoke in her.  Her soul cried out for comfort.

With Isabel still clasped in her failing arms, she began a desperate prayer for help.  Her words came haltingly.  They sounded strange to herself.  But with all the strength that remained she sent forth her cry to the Infinite.  And even as she prayed there came to her—­whence she knew not—­the conviction that somewhere—­probably not more than a couple of miles from her though the darkness made the distance seem immeasurable—­Scott was praying too.  That thought had a wonderfully comforting effect upon her.  His prayer was so much more likely to be answered than hers.  He was just the sort of man who would know how to pray.

“How I wish he were here!” she whispered piteously into the darkness.  “I shouldn’t be afraid of dying—­if only he were here.”

She was certain—­quite certain—­that had he been there with her, no fear would have reached her.  He wore the armour of a strong man, and by it he would have shielded her also.

“Oh, dear Mr. Greatheart,” she murmured through her numb lips, “I’m sure you know the way to Heaven.”

Isabel stirred again as one who moves in restless slumber.  “We must scale the peaks of Paradise to reach it,” she said.

“Are you awake, dearest?” asked Dinah very tenderly.

Isabel’s head was sunk against her shoulder.  She moved it, slightly raised it.  “Yes, I am awake,” she said.  “I am watching for the dawn.”

“It won’t come yet,” whispered Dinah tremulously.  “It’s a long, long way off.”

Isabel moved a little more, feeling for Dinah in the darkness.  “Are you frightened, little one?” she said.  “Don’t be frightened!”

Dinah swallowed down a sob.  “It is so dark,” she murmured through chattering teeth.  “And so, so cold.”

“You are cold, dear heart?” Isabel sat up suddenly.  “Why should you be cold?” she said.  “The darkness is nothing to those who are used to it.  I have lived in outer darkness for seven weary years.  But now—­now I think the day is drawing near at last.”

With an energy that astounded Dinah she got upon her knees and by her movements she realized, albeit too late, that she was divesting herself of the long purple coat.