u do not imagine her by your
side to share your pleasure in it all; that you make no effort to better
yourself or help others; that you do nothing of which she could approve,
that you are not thinking of her--that really she is not the inspiration
of it all. That doesn't come but once. Think of having somebody so
linked with your life, with what is highest and best in you, that, when
the hour of temptation comes and overcomes, you are not able to think of
her through very shame. I wonder if _he_ loved you that way. I wonder if
you know what such love is."

"It never comes but once," he said, in a low tone, that made Judith turn
suddenly. Her eyes looked as if they were not far from tears.

A tiny star showed in the pink glow over the west--

"Starlight, star bright!"

"Think of it. For ten years I never saw the first star without making
the same wish for you and me. Why," he went on, and stopped suddenly
with a little shame at making the confession even to himself, and at the
same time with an impersonal wonder that such a thing could be, "I used
to pray for you always--when I said my prayers--actually. And sometimes
even now, when I'm pretty hopeless and helpless and moved by some
memory, the old prayer comes back unconsciously and I find myself
repeating your name."

For the moment he spoke as though not only that old love, but she who
had caused it, were dead, and the tone of his voice made her shiver.

And the suffering he used to get--the suffering from trifles--the
foolish suffering from silly trifles!

He turned now, for he heard Judith walking toward him. She was looking
him straight in the eyes and was smiling strangely.

"I'm going to make you love me as you used to love me."

Her lips were left half parted from the whisper, and he could have
stooped and kissed her--something that never in his life had he done--he
knew that--but the old reverence came back from the past to forbid him,
and he merely looked down into her eyes, flushing a little.

"Yes," she said, gently. "And I think you are just tall enough."

In a flash her mood changed, and she drew his head down until she could
just touch his forehead with her lips. It was a sweet bit of
motherliness--no more--and Crittenden understood and was grateful.

"Go home now," she said.

VII

At Tampa--the pomp and circumstance of war.

A gigantic hotel, brilliant with lights, music, flowers, women; halls
and corridors filled with bustl