could help him. The future, to make or mar, lay now within his own hands.
And in the same spirit of consecration with which the knights of old
prayed that they might attain true chivalry during the long vigil before
their accolade, Austin kept his watch that night, and made his vow that
the future, in spite of the discouragements and mistakes and failures
which it must inevitably contain, should be undaunted by obstacles, and
clean of lust and high of purpose.

The wind and rain ceased, the clouds grew less heavy, and at last, just
before dawn, a few stars shone faintly in the clearing sky; then the sun
rose in a blaze of glory. Sylvia had not moved, and lay with one arm
under her dark head, the undried tears still on her cheeks. Austin lifted
her gently, and started towards the highroad with her in his arms. She
stirred slightly, opened her eyes and smiled, then lifted her hands and
clasped them around his neck.

"It'll be easier to carry me that way," she murmured drowsily.
"Austin--you're awfully good to me."

Her eyes closed again. A sheet of white fire, like that of which he had
been conscious on the afternoon when they straightened out the yard
together, only a thousand times more powerful, seemed to envelop him
again. He looked down at the lovely, sleeping face, at the dark lashes
curling over the white cheeks and the red, sweet lips. If he kissed her,
what harm would be done--she would never even know--

Then he flung back his head. Sylvia was as far above him as those pale
stars of the early dawn. It was clear to him that no one must ever guess
how dearly he loved her; but he knew that it was far, far more essential
that he, in his unworthiness, should not profane his own ideal. She was