the story. The rest now was only the work of a minute: some bits of
driftwood and the remains of some previous camp fire quickly started a
blaze.

Carefully he laid Helen upon his coat near the fire, and continued to
rub her body until her eyelids quivered and she opened her big blue
eyes and looked about.

She saw the camp fire, the strange looking cave and the big handsome
figure bending over her.... First she looked startled, then when she
slowly realized their predicament she became hysterical, threw herself
into her rescuer's arms and wept.

And each knew, as the one man and the one woman will always know by
intuition, that fiction has no miracles such as are found in the book
of life. Lips may dissemble, but there is no need of speech when heart
meets its mate. Jack gathered her to his breast and soothed her as
best he could. It was so good to look in her face and to hear her
voice; her heart was so pure and her soul so lily white: her eyes like
violets wet with the morning dew....

When she was quieter, Jack whispered in his fine manly voice quivering
with earnestness: "Helen, my own, will you be my wife, my own sweet
little wife until death do us part?"

"Until death do us part, I will!" she whispered, and surely the angels
must have recorded that sacred promise. Her voice was suffused with a
world of tenderness as she breathed the words. From his coat pocket
Jack produced a plain gold band. "My mother's wedding ring," he said,
"it has never left me since I said good-bye to her and laid her to