t she was going
to do. For deep in the heart of her she knew already. Deep in the heart
of her she knew that when Lucas Errol began to reach out for something
which she alone could give, it would not be in vain. He had given of his
best to her, and she was ready to give of her best in return. If she
could not give him passion, she could give him that which was
infinitely greater--a deep, abiding love, a devotion born of complete
sympathy. She could give him happiness, and in the giving she might find
it for herself.

Over in the west the clouds were breaking, and a shaft of pale sunshine
streamed upon the distant hills, turning the woods to living gold. Her
eyes brightened a little as they caught the radiance. It seemed as if the
door before which she had knelt so long in impotence were opening to her
at last, as if one more opportunity were to be given her even yet after
long and bitter failure of turning her corner of the desert into a garden
of flowers and singing birds.

CHAPTER IV

THE MESSAGE

It was nearly a month after Lucas Errol's operation that Bertie and his
bride came home from their honeymoon and began the congenial task of
setting their house in order.

Dot was thoroughly in her element. The minutest details were to her
matters of vital importance.

"We must make it comfy," she said to Bertie, and Bertie fully agreed.

He had relinquished his study of the law, and had resumed his secretarial
duties, well aware that Lucas could ill spare him. He was in fact Lucas's
right hand just then, and the burden that devolved upon him was no light
one. But he bore it with a cheerful spirit, for Lucas was making
progress. Despite his utter helplessness, despite the inevitable
confinement to one room, despite the weariness and the irksomeness which
day by day were his portion, Lucas was very gradually gaining ground.
Already he suffered less severely and slept more naturally.

His last words to Capper at parting had been, "Come again in the spring
and complete the cure. I shall be ready for you."

And Capper had smiled upon him with something approaching geniality and
had answered, "You'll do it, and so shall I. So long then!"

But the months that intervened were the chief stumbling-block, and Capper
knew it. He knew that his patient would have to face difficulties and
drawbacks that might well dismay the bravest. He knew of the reaction
that must surely come when the vitality was low, and progress