again without delay. He
tried to view this in perfect coolness, but though the decision
remained with him the fever of doubt and despair seized him, and he
became the victim of every fear known to the human lover's heart. To
him who had never known the meaning of fear his dread became tenfold
appalling. He must see her--and perhaps for the last time in his life.
This interview might well terminate once and for all every thought of
earthly happiness, and fling him back upon the meagre solace of a
wilderness, which now, without Joan, would be desolation indeed.

Yet he knew that the chances must be faced now and at once. For
himself he would probably have delayed, rather basking in the sunshine
of uncertainty than risk witnessing the swift gathering clouds which
must rob him of all light forever. But he was not thinking only of
himself. There was that other, that white-haired, lonely man who had
said, "Because you love this little Joan."

The wonderful unselfishness of the Padre had a greater power to stir
Buck's heart than any other appeal. His sacrifice must not be
permitted without a struggle. He knew the man, and he knew how useless
mere objection would be. Therefore his duty lay plain before him. Joan
must decide, and on her decision must his plans all be founded. He had
no reason to hope for a return of his love. On the contrary, it seemed
absurd even to hope, and in such an event then the Padre's sacrifice
would be unnecessary. If on the other hand--but he dared not let the
thought take shape. All he knew was that with Joan at his side no
power of law should touch one single white hair of the Padre's head,
while the breath of life remained in his body.

It was a big thought in the midst of the most selfish of human
passions. It was a thought so wide, that, in every aspect, it spoke of
the great world which had been this man's lifelong study. It told of
sublime lessons well learned. Of a mind and heart as big, and broad,
and loyal as was the book from which the lessons had been studied.

With the morning light came a further steadiness of decision. But with
it also came an added apprehension, and lack of mental peace. The
world was radiant about him with the wonder of his love, but his
horizon was lost in a mist of uncertainty and even dread.

The morning dragged as such intervening hours ever drag, but at length
they were done with, and the momentous time arrived. Neither he nor
the Padre had referred again to