In watching it Donaldson found the first relief in the long night. His own mind cleared with the dawn. The day broke so clean and fresh, so bathed in morning dew, that once again his mind, grown perhaps less active, clung in some last spasm to the present as when he had sat with Elaine at breakfast, part of the little Dutch picture. Without reasoning into the to-morrow, he felt as though this day belonged to him. As the sun rose higher and stronger, enveloping the world in its catholic rays, the night seemed only an evil dream. He was both stronger and weaker. He was swept on, unresisting, by the high flood of the new day. This world now before his eyes acknowledged nothing of his agony but came mother-like to ease his fretting. She would have nothing of the heavy tossings inspired by her sinister sister, the Night. She was all for clean glad spirits, all for new hopes. So he who had first frowned at it, who had then watched passively, now rose to its call. He was entitled to this day, sang the tempter sun,--one big day out of all his life. The crisis would be no more acute upon the morrow and he might be stronger to meet it. This day was his and hers, and even the boy's. To accept it would be to shirk nothing; it would be only to postpone--to weave into the sombre grave vestments be was making for himself one golden thread. Arsdale's talk had removed the last vestige of hope. The worst had happened. Surely one gay interlude could add no burden. A day was always a day, and joys once lived could never be lost. Always in her life and in his this would remain, and since he had shouldered the other days as they had come to him, it seemed no more than right that he should take this. Not to do so would be but sorry self-imposed martyrdom. Arsdale came in, still in his bathrobe, with brisk step and his face a-beaming. "Well," he demanded, "how do you feel now?" "Better," answered Donaldson, unhesitatingly. "Better! You ought to feel great! Look at the sun out there! Smell that air! Have you had your tub?" "Not yet," smiled Donaldson. Arsdale led the way to the shower, and a few minutes later Donaldson felt his skin tingle to new life beneath the cold spray. CHAPTER XXI _Facing the Sun_ When he came down-stairs he found her dressed in white and looking like a nun. Her hair was brushed back from her forehead and the silk-figured Japanese shawl was over her shoulders. He recalled the shawl and with it the picture she had made that first night. At the door he called her name and she looked up quickly, swiftly scanning his face. He crossed to her side. "You should n't stay in here," he said. "Come outdoors a moment before breakfast. It's bright and warm out there."