Cyclona looked at him long and earnestly, at the strong, fine lines of sadness brought beautifully out by this unexpected high-light of the skies, accentuated Rembrandt-like, against the darkness of the earth-colored hole in the ground. Then she bent her sunburnt head and a tear fell on her hand outstretched upon the table. At sight of the tear Seth was like a man who is all at once drunk with new wine. There is truth in the wine. There are times when it clears the brain for the moment and reveals things as they are. He looked at Cyclona with new eyes. It was as if he had never before seen her. She differed from Celia as the wild rose differs from the rose that blooms in hothouses, and yet how beautiful she was! He realized for the first time her wonderful beauty. So olive of complexion with the delicate tinge of rose showing through, so bronze of hair in close-cut sun-kissed curls! The little curls that gave her a boyish look in spite of the fact that she had blossomed into radiant womanhood. The big brown eyes. The curve of the neck, the little tip-tilted chin! Seth had been hardly human if the thought of forgetting Celia and her indifference in Cyclona's arms had not more than once presented itself. It presented itself now with the strength of strong winds. Without home or kindred, without tie or connection, she was a flower in his pathway. He had only to reach out and pluck her and wear her on his heart. There were none to gainsay him. No mortal lived who dared defend her or say nay. Why waste his life, then, in dreams and fantasies, in regrets, and hopings, when here lay a glowing, breathing, living reality? He reached out his hand and caught hers in a firm, compelling grasp. A splendid creature sent to comfort him. A creature blown by the winds of heaven to his threshold. A dear defenceless thing without home or kindred, unprotected, uncared of, weak and in need of affection, in dire need of love. Helpless, unshielded, unguarded ... unprotected ... unguarded ... uncared for.... Seth frowned. The wind had wafted itself into his brain again. He was growing dazed. He caught his hand away from Cyclona's. He thrust his fingers through his hair. He pressed them over his eyes. These strange words persisted in piling themselves solidly between him and his desire. They formed a barrier stronger than walls of brick or mortar. Unprotected, defenceless, unguarded, uncared for, this girl who had rocked his child and Celia's in her arms, who had held him close to the warmth of her young bosom. This beautiful unprotected girl who had tenderly closed the eyes of his child! The fragile barrier built by unseen hands was cloud-high now. If the wraith of Cyclona had occupied the chair there by his side she could scarcely have been further removed from his embrace. Humbly Seth bent over the small brown hand. Reverently he kissed away the tear. CHAPTER XVIII. [Illustration]