s inspired by her sinister sister, the
Night. She was all for clean glad spirits, all for new hopes. So he
who had first frowned at it, who had then watched passively, now rose
to its call.

He was entitled to this day, sang the tempter sun,--one big day out of
all his life. The crisis would be no more acute upon the morrow and he
might be stronger to meet it. This day was his and hers, and even the
boy's. To accept it would be to shirk nothing; it would be only to
postpone--to weave into the sombre grave vestments be was making for
himself one golden thread. Arsdale's talk had removed the last vestige
of hope. The worst had happened. Surely one gay interlude could add
no burden. A day was always a day, and joys once lived could never be
lost. Always in her life and in his this would remain, and since he
had shouldered the other days as they had come to him, it seemed no
more than right that he should take this. Not to do so would be but
sorry self-imposed martyrdom.

Arsdale came in, still in his bathrobe, with brisk step and his face
a-beaming.

"Well," he demanded, "how do you feel now?"

"Better," answered Donaldson, unhesitatingly.

"Better! You ought to feel great! Look at the sun out there! Smell
that air! Have you had your tub?"

"Not yet," smiled Donaldson.

Arsdale led the way to the shower, and a few minutes later Donaldson
felt his skin tingle to new life beneath the cold spray.

CHAPTER XXI

_Facing the Sun_

When he came down-stairs he found her dressed in white and looking like
a nun. Her hair was brushed back from her forehead and the
silk-figured Japanese shawl was over her shoulders. He recalled the
shawl and with it the picture she had made that first night.

At the door he called her name and she looked up quickly, swiftly
scanning his face. He crossed to her side.

"You should n't stay in here," he said. "Come outdoors a moment before
breakfast. It's bright and warm out there."

She arose, and they went out together to the lawn. Each blade of grass
was wearing its morning jewels. The sun petted them and bestowed
opals, amethysts, and rubies upon them. The hedge was as fresh as if
newly created; the neighboring houses appeared as though a Dutch
housewife had washed them down and sanded them; the sky was a perfect
jewel cut by the Master hand. The peeping and chattering of the
swallows was music, while a robin or two added a longer note to the
sharp stac