There was but little sleep for him that night. His thoughts were principally taken up with the curious fulfilment of the prophecy of Mother Jericho. Much as he despised superstition and ridiculed palmistry, he could not but admit that the sibyl had forecast the future with remarkable accuracy. She had predicted that he would meet his fate at the Gates of Dawn, and there he had seen Meg, whom he now designed to make his wife. The assertion that he would love one woman, and be loved by another whom he would dislike, had been fulfilled to the letter by the declaration of Miss Linisfarne. She had yellow hair streaked with grey, and hence Mother Jericho's warning to beware of gold and silver. So far all had occurred exactly as she foretold; but there was more to come. Miss Linisfarne was to seek to hurt him through Meg, and there was fire and flame and brave deeds. Also a false father, and a false mother. These yet unfulfilled events were a source of great perplexity to him, and he determined to nullify at least the first by at once declaring his passion to Meg. When they understood one another, he hoped that Miss Linisfarne would be powerless to harm him through his promised wife. But all this depended on the acceptance or refusal of his suit by Meg. After a restless night he walked down to the beach for a swim, and left Simon and Peter to guard the dell. As he passed through the Gates of Dawn, at the hour of sunrise, he beheld Meg coming up from the seashore. Again the golden glory of the day burned behind her, but she no longer sang, nor did she dance before the sun like Aurora. On the contrary, her eyes were downcast, her face sorrowful, and she attempted to pass Dan without a greeting. The omission vexed him, and he blocked her path by standing before her. Courtesy forbade her to force her way past him, so she paused irresolutely, and looked at him reproachfully. Astonished at this unusual behaviour, and rightly ascribing it to the influence of Miss Linisfarne, Dan was the first to speak. He wasted no time in idle talk, but went straight to the point. "Meg!" he said, looking at her anxiously, "what is the matter? Have I offended you, that you would pass me by as a stranger?" "I have nothing to say," she murmured. "Let me pass, please." "Not till you tell me how I have been so unfortunate as to offend you." "You have not offended me. I have no right to control your actions." "Then Miss Linisfarne has poisoned your mind against me." Meg lifted her eyes, and looked at him sorrowfully. Boldly as she had defended him when absent, she could not help believing that there was some truth in the assertions of Miss Linisfarne. Dan she had only known for a few months, while Miss Linisfarne was the close friend of years, therefore it was only natural she should attach more weight to the assertions of the latter than to those of the former. Experience only can instruct as to the proper estimate of a friendship.