like a down-hearted man. But Jason rattled on
with idle talk, and kindled a fire and made some coffee. And when
this was done he stumbled his way through the long passages of the
Iceland house until he came upon Greeba's room, and there he knocked
softly, and she answered him.

She was ready, for she had not been to bed, and about her shoulders
and across her breast was a sling of sheepskin, wherein she meant to
carry her little Michael as he slept.

"All is ready," he whispered. "He says he may recover his sight. Can
it be true?"

"Yes, the apothecary from Husavik said so," she answered.

"Then have no fear. Tell him who you are, for he loves you still."

And, hearing that, Greeba began to cry for joy, and to thank God that
the days of her waiting were over at last.

"Two years I have lived alone," she said, "in the solitude of a
loveless life and the death of a heartless home. My love has been
silent all this weary, weary time, but it is to be silent no longer.
At last! At last! My hour has come at last! My husband will forgive
me for the deception I have practiced upon him. How can he hate me
for loving him to all lengths and ends of love? Oh, that the blessed
spirit that counts the throbbings of the heart would but count my
life from to-day--to-day, to-day, to-day--wiping out all that is
past, and leaving only the white page of what is to come."

Then from crying she fell to laughing, as softly and as gently, as if
her heart grudged her voice the joy of it. She was like a child who
is to wear a new feather on the morrow, and is counting the minutes
until that morrow comes, too impatient to rest, and afraid to sleep
lest she should awake too late. And Jason stood aside and heard both
her weeping and her laughter.

He went back to Sunlocks, and found him yet more sad than before.

"Only to think," said Sunlocks, "that you, whom I thought my worst
enemy, you that once followed me to slay me, should be the man of all
men to risk your life for me."

"Yes, life is a fine lottery, isn't it?" said Jason, and he laughed.

"How the Almighty God tears our little passions to tatters," said
Sunlocks, "and works His own ends in spite of them."

When all was ready, Jason blew out the candle, and led Sunlocks to
the porch. Greeba was there, with little Michael breathing softly
from the sling at her breast.

Jason opened the door. "It's very dark," he whispered, "and it is
still two hours before the dawn. Sunlocks, i