consciousness of it now rushed back with
increased alarm. There were still no clouds to be seen anywhere, no
visible signs of an approaching storm; but the thick veil of yellowish
vapor was fast drawing an unnatural twilight over the noonday. Through
this awful dimness the sun was shining faintly, like a great globe of
heated copper, thus shedding a strange light, even more alarming than
the sinister darkness.

Every soul in the wilderness must now have shrunk, shuddering and
appalled, before this unmistakable approach of some frightful
convulsion of nature. The people of Cedar House, like all the rest,
could do nothing but wait in agony for the unknown blow to fall. It
seemed an endless time in falling; under the breathless, torturing
suspense the moments became hours, with no change except a darkening of
the unnatural twilight, an increase of the unnatural sultriness, and a
deepening of the unnatural stillness. The little group in the great room
of Cedar House sat still and silent, save as they unconsciously drew
closer together, moved by the instinct of humanity in common danger.

The girl alone kept her post by the open door and her watch over the
forest path, looking for the coming of her lover. She knew that but one
thing could keep him from her side, and with all her longing for his
presence, a thrill of happiness came from his absence. Through all its
distress her heart exulted in the thought that he was faithful in his
service to suffering humanity, even when love itself beckoned him away.
A great tide of religious gratitude rose in her heart sweeping all fear
before it. The love of a man who was both strong and good--the greatest
gift that life could give to any woman--was safely hers. Holding this
assurance to her heart, she grew wonderfully calm. There could be
nothing to fear. In this world or the next, all was well. A wonderful
spiritual exaltation bore her upward on its strong, swift wings, high
above all the surrounding gloom and terror, till she rested on a white
height of perfect peace. There was a rapt look on her quiet, pale face
as she sat thus with it turned toward the forest path. She arose quietly
and stood in the door, gazing at a shadowy form which came suddenly from
under the dark trees. The thick yellow mist wrapped it darkly, but she
presently knew by intuition rather than by sight that Paul was really
coming at last, and she flew toward him like a homing bird. He was
urging his horse, but