"You're a good boy," murmured the girl, taking off her hat and pushing back the mass of dark hair from her forehead. "We'll soon show you our appreciation." "I guess we'd better light up, it's getting dark a little earlier nowadays," he said, leaving Louisa's side to light the lanterns, which soon flooded the tent with soft radiance. "I like the twilight," said Clarice to Livingston. "But then I like lots of light, too. Some people can talk best in the dark, but I have to see to talk." "It's only eight o'clock," continued Sydney, from where he had left off. "Last month it was daylight at ten. It beats all how time flies, anyway!" He hung an extra lantern, lighted for the momentous occasion, right where the rays fell full upon Hope's face. From the far end of the tent Livingston watched her. He sought her eyes as usual. They were everywhere, anywhere, but did not meet his. Lately a new star had risen for him--a star of hope. O'Hara had told him, quite unsolicited, that there was no attachment between Hope and her cousin, much less an engagement, and suddenly a new world had opened for him. "I don't see why you are lighting the lanterns now. It isn't dark at all," said the girl, rising suddenly from her seat. "From the top of the ridge out there you can see the sunset, I know." "Did you ever see a sunset as beautiful as the sunrise?" asked Livingston. She stopped and pondered an instant, then glanced at him quickly, and as quickly away. "No, I have not," she replied. "A sunrise is a baptism. It is like being born into a new world. There is nothing so beautiful, so grand, so promising, as the vision of a new day's sun. And to stand in the cool morning air with the dew beneath your feet and _feel_ all the promise of that vast, golden glory--to feel it----" She stopped suddenly, lifting her eyes to his for one brief instant. "There is no moment in life when one is so near to God." "Admitting the sublimity and grandeur of the time," said Clarice. "Yet who ever heard of an enamored swain offering his heart at the feet of his fair lady at such an unearthly hour? It's preposterous!" "In such a case he'd probably be sitting up too late the night before," said Carter. "But it's a pretty idea, just the same," he declared, looking at Louisa. "I think a sunset is prettier," insisted Clarice. "I've never been able to rub the sleep out of my eyes to appreciate the sunrise as Hope describes it. But I think she is an exception." "Would there were more then," said Livingston fervently. His earnestness seemed to amuse Clarice, for she turned to him and laughed. Hope swung about quickly, stung for the instant. "It is sacred," she cried softly, then opening the tent-flap with a quick movement she stepped out into the evening.