Directly in front of him was a narrow slit between the great rocks, and through this he saw the ocean. It faced due east, and the sky flamed crimson like a funeral pile. The ruddy light poured in rich profusion through the chasm and bathed him in hues of blood. A native, with open mouth, was climbing the road after him, and Dan, hearing his heavy footstep, looked round. "What do you call this?" he asked sharply. "T' Geates o' Dawn," replied the native, and stared harder than ever. "And Joy comes up through the Gates of Dawn," murmured Dan, as the gipsy's words flashed again into his mind. "How strange! Here are the 'Gates of Dawn,' but where is the embodied Joy? Hark! Some one is singing from the sea. A mermaid!" "Noa, measter," said the yokel, grinning from ear to ear at this extravagant idea; "'tis t' ould doctor's lass." Over the rim of ocean leaped the sun, and shafts of dazzling gold streamed through the Gates of Dawn. The sea turned to fire, and the fierce radiance smote the red firmament to glowing gold. Such splendid glitter and flame poured through the chasm that Dan put his hand to his eyes to keep himself from being blinded. It is ill work to face the sun-god in his anger. "Apollo is fiercer than Aurora," said Dan, blinking his eyes. "I would rather be Tithonus than Daphne. I wonder she did not share the fate of Semele and expire in the glorious divinity of her lover." "T' doctor's lass," again said the yokel, nodding up the road. Down it, in the full splendour of the sunlight, came a girl singing. Dan could distinguish the words as they floated skyward on the music of her voice. And she sang---- "The red light flames in the eastern skies, The dew lies heavy on lea and lawn, Grief with her anguish, of midnight flies, And Joy comes up thro' the Gates of Dawn." Such a vision of ripe beauty! This was surely no mortal maiden who danced down the road, but Aurora heralding the approach of the sun-god. Dan almost expected to see her scatter tufts of rosy cloud, and gaped like a yokel himself at the lovely woman who was coming towards him. Evidently she had been bathing, for her dark hair, still wet with the salt sea, streamed in profusion down her back. In a long blue cloak, with naked feet, she danced along, singing. Her face was beautiful--so much only could Dan gather as she flashed past him like a meteor. The presence of a stranger did not seem to rouse her curiosity, for she did not even turn her head to look at him, but, singing and dancing, went down the road towards the village. That splendid vision of immortal beauty lasted but two minutes. "T' doctor's lass," explained the yokel for the third time. "By Ph[oe]bus, no!" cried Dan, kicking Simon's sleek sides; "it is no mortal, but a goddess--an angel--a vision of the sunrise. My fate--pshaw!--my divinity! The face that launched a thousand ships! The golden Hebe--incarnate beauty--everlasting Joy!"