As he asked himself these questions, he felt a strange sensation creeping over him, thrilling him from his head to his feet with the same old emotion he had experienced one moonlight night in dear old Fardale, as he leaned over the gate in front of Inza’s home and kissed her for the first time. Was it love stirring and reawakening within his heart? Frank sat like one under a spell, a rapt look of pleasure on his handsome face as he seemed to live over again that happy hour of a moonlight night in Fardale, far away. He saw Inza as she looked then, leaning on the gate, the white moonlight showing the sweet, girlish outline of her high-bred oval face, and he remembered the look he saw within her dark eyes just before he impulsively pressed his lips to hers. That kiss—the memory of it had been with him always! Sometimes it seemed that he had tried to forget, but still it clung to him. In times of peril it sustained him and gave him hope; in times of distress it soothed him and gave him comfort. When his life hung in the balance, as it had more than once, and it seemed that there was no hope, the memory of that kiss over the gate had kept the spark of hope alive in his heart, had caused him to continue the battle, had kept him from ever giving up. Now it seemed that for the first time he fully realized this. Now for the first time he understood that in moments of frightful peril, when there seemed absolutely not a ray of hope, he had hoped on and had not given up because he thought of Inza—because he must see her again. The thought struck home to him with convincing force. Through all the years since they plighted their love in the moonlight at Fardale he had loved her. Through all the years since then her influence had been over him, making him better, stronger, nobler. She had been his guardian angel, saving him scores of times from deadly perils. Her love, her influence, her spirit had hovered near, even though the width of the world separated them. No wonder Frank Merriwell sat there like one entranced, wondering that he had never realized this before, bitterly condemning himself for his blindness. His face must have expressed much, for Starbright was silenced and turned quietly away, leaving Frank to meditate on this wonderful thing which had dawned upon him like a glorious light in a dark place. The love of Inza had been pure and noble and uplifting. He had felt it thus, and to it he owed much that he had become. Now, at this late hour, after all that had happened, he knew it was for Inza he had striven and struggled. For her he had worked to make himself physically and mentally great. For her he had labored night and day to conquer all things, surmount all obstacles, reach the loftiest heights. What a revelation it was! He saw how her influence had uplifted him above the level of common men and had placed him on a pinnacle where those below looked up at him in wonder and admiration.