.

There he stood, trembling, but not with cold, nor with cowardice, nor
with fatigue. Sanity had come upon him. He would do no untoward act to
hurt the three people who would grieve for him. He would bear the hurt
of forever loving in silence, and continue to wait for the open road
that would lead him to prison and disgrace, or maybe a death of shame.
He considered, as often before, all the arguments that continually
fretted him and tore his spirit; and, as before, he knew the only
course to follow was the hard one which took him back to Amalia, until
spring and the melting of the snows released him--to live near her, to
see her and hear her voice, even touch her hand, and feel his body
grow tense and hard, suffering restraint. If only for one moment he
might let himself go! If but once again he might touch her lips with
his! Ah, God! If he might say one word of love--only once before
leaving her forever!

Standing there looking out upon the world beneath him and above him
bathed in the immaculate whiteness of the snow, and the moonlight over
all, he perceived how small an atom in the universe is one lone man,
yet how overwhelmingly great in his power to love. It seemed to him
that his love overtopped the hills and swept to the very throne of
God. He was exalted by it, and in this exaltation it was that he
trembled. Would it lift him up to triumph over remorse and death?

He turned and plodded back the inevitable way. It was still
night--cold and silver-white. He was filled with energy born of great
renunciation and despair, and could only calm himself by work. If he
could only work until he dropped, or fight with the elements, it would
help him. He began clearing the snow from the ground around the cabin
and cut the path through to the shed; then he quietly entered and
found Larry still calmly sleeping as if but a moment had passed.
Finally, he secured one of the torches and made his way through the
tunnel to the place where Larry and he had found the quartz which they
had smelted in the evening.

There he fastened the torch securely in a crevice, and began to swing
his pick and batter recklessly at the overhanging ledge. Never had he
worked so furiously, and the earth and stone lay all about him and
heaped at his feet. Deeper and deeper he fought and cut into the solid
wall, until, grimed with sweat and dirt, he sank exhausted upon the
pile of quartz he had loosened. Then he shoveled it to one side and
began aga