It is this empty time that the fool is always trying to kill: his effort should be to fill it.

Yet nothing but the living God can fill it--though it be but the shape our existence takes to us.

Only where he is, emptiness is not.

Eternity will be but an intense present to the child with whom is the Father.
Such thoughts alighted, flitted, and passed, for the first few moments, through the mind of Donal, as he sat half consciously waiting for the dawn.

It was thousands of miles away, over the great round of the sunward-turning earth! His imagination woke, and began to picture the great hunt of the shadows, fleeing before the arrows of the sun, over the broad face of the mighty world--its mountains, seas, and plains in turn confessing the light, and submitting to him who slays for them the haunting demons of their dark.