And so they stood for one long minute of time, hand in hand. The sun played upon them, lighting the woman's hair with sparkles of yellow fire, and warmed the tired bodies with its tender glow, just as the content of this tardy but complete reconciliation warmed their tired souls. The long rollers boomed a deep note of approval as they surged shorewards in snowy foam, and the gentle breath of the trade wind touched them caressingly with its invisible fingers. The very sands flashed their delight up at them, and the swaying palm-tops rustled with a drowsy murmur of satisfaction. Often thus does nature seem to tune herself in accord with the feelings and emotions of mankind. In that moment the sinister barrier of misunderstanding, which for so long had stood gloomy, forbidding, impassable, had been removed from between their hearts, and the very air, the sea, the earth, the waving foliage, the shining sand rejoiced thereat. But as the cowboy would say, "You can't buck against destiny." Destiny had tied a knot--a huge, cruel, untieable knot--which held the lives of these two apart, set though they were in the same web of fate. Bitterness, doubt, misery had been the direct result; but now, by the aid of that little winged cherub who plays such pranks with most lives, the bitterness, the doubt, the misery, all had been swept aside--only the knot remained. With a long sigh of thankfulness Loyola murmured gently, "You do forgive me, Jack?" "I do, I do, child," he replied, the hardness all gone from his voice. "I don't know why you did it. Only this I know, it was no fault of yours. Fate in some way stepped in between us, and--and--and I can feel it in the air"--he lifted his head and drew a long, deep breath--"I feel that we are still the friends, the----" he stopped, hesitating, flushed, and a tender light glowed in the blind eyes. "Yes, Jack?" she whispered, longing to hear the word he had left unspoken. "Who used to be so fond of each other," he ended lamely. "But," cried the woman eagerly, "I must tell you why I did it. I did it----" "Don't tell me, Lolie; I don't want to hear. I know now you must have had some good reason, that is enough for me. We can still be friends." "But I must, I must. I did it to save Big Harry, poor old dad. He was caught in Hawksley's clutches and I sold myself to save him, and--and--and it was all no use," she sobbed. "He had cheated the pair of us. It broke dad's heart, and he died two months after you left the schooner." "My God! If I had only known!" groaned the man, with miserable self-reproach. "And that's why! and that's why! I might have guessed something of the sort if I hadn't been such a cursed, jealous fool."