The rain descended in a deluge upon the cabin roof.

The black night was filled with the rumble and roar and the hissing lightning-flare of pent-up elements suddenly freed of bondage.

And in the darkness and tumult the Missioner stood, a little gray man of tragedy, of deeply buried secrets, a man of prayer and of faith in God--his heart whispering for guidance and mercy as he waited.
The minutes passed.Five.Ten.And then there came a louder roaring of the storm, shut off quickly, and the little Missioner knew that a door was opened--and closed.
He lifted the latch, and looked out again into the lampglow.

Huddled at the side of a chair on the floor, her arms and face buried in the lustrous, disheveled mass of her shining hair--lay Nada, and close beside her was Peter.

He went to her.