it. No flame appeared. The brown underlying earth showed itself
winding onward in a thin strip--which might have been a footpath
traced in fire. It frightened me. I longed for the protection of
the Invisible Presence. I prayed for a warning of it, if danger
was near.

A touch answered me. It was as if a hand unseen had taken my
hand--had raised it, little by little--had left it, pointing to
the thin brown path that wound toward me under the shriveled
blades of grass.

I looked to the far end of the path.

The unseen hand closed on my hand with a warning pressure: the
revelation of the coming danger was near me--I waited for it. I
saw it.

The figure of a man appeared, advancing toward me along the thin
brown path. I looked in his face as he came nearer. It showed me
dimly the face of my husband's brother--John Zant.

The consciousness of myself as a living creature left me. I knew
nothing; I felt nothing. I was dead.

When the torture of revival made me open my eyes, I found myself
on the grass. Gentle hands raised my head, at the moment when I
recovered my senses. Who had brought me to life again? Who was
taking care of me?

I looked upward, and saw--bending over me--John Zant.