"Yes, sir. And if it ain't presuming, I would like to say that there is
more than the coffee what is weak, sir. The cookin' here ain't what
you're used to, sir. The club table, or that at the hotel, is more
nourishing." Saxton had put in his suggestion, and went his way
comforted.

The coffee braced the shaken nerves, and again Devant went to his mirror
as to a friend. The color of the eyes had changed. Janet's eyes were
never so pale and dull. The complexion was grayish white--the haunting
likeness was gone--but the curious curve of the left ear stood in bold
evidence and called for recognition in the final reckoning.

"A thousand might have the same!" thought the troubled man; but he had
never noticed it but twice in all his long life!

After breakfast that day he went for a walk in the scrub oaks. He dared
not go to the lighthouse, but he saw no reason why he should not walk
upon the path leading to it. The damp sodden leaves sent up a pungent
odor as his feet crushed them. A smell of wood smoke was mingled with
the salt air from off sea; it was a perfect late autumn day, with a
warning of winter in its touch.

Devant walked slowly with bowed head; he was pondering as to what he
should do in the future. His life had never seemed more useless than it
now appeared with the glaring doubt in his mind. Suddenly he was aware
of some one approaching, and he raised his eyes hopefully. It was Janet,
and the breeze, lifting her hair from her face, left the little ear
exposed. It was that upon which the man's gaze rested!

"Good morning," said the girl, "I was coming to Bluff Head." Janet was
the one more at ease. Her struggle had been along clearer lines.

"Going up to read?" asked Devant uneasily; "the library is yours, my
child." The last words had a possible significance that was well-nigh
heartbreaking to the man.

"No: I--I want to say something--to you! I did not seem to be able to
come before." A rare dignity touched the girl. Her womanhood appeared to
have taken on a queenly attribute; but the language of this new
womanhood was still to learn. She had spent the night at the Light, and
the latter part of it she had shared Davy's watch. Together they had
"freshened up" from the little balcony, and the calmness of the stars
and David's philosophy had set their seal upon her. She was brave and
tolerant. She had chosen her path, and with the courage of the dunes
she was ready to tread it wherever it might lead.