in.

"This seems hallowed ground to me now," Darrell remarked.

"It has always seemed so to me," Mr. Britton replied; "but remember, so
long as you have need of the place it is always open to you."

"'Until the day break and the shadows flee away,'" Darrell responded, in
low tones, as though to himself.

Mr. Britton caught his meaning. "My son," he said, "when the day breaks
for you do not forget those who still sit in darkness!"

_Chapter XXVII_

THE RENDING OF THE VEIL

The story of Mr. Britton's life impressed Darrell deeply. In the days
following his friend's departure he would sit for hours revolving it in
his mind, unable to rid himself of the impression that it was in some
way connected with his own life. Impelled by some motive he could
scarcely explain, he recorded it in his journal as told by Mr. Britton
as nearly as he could recall it.

Left to himself he worked with unabated ardor, but his work soon grew
unsatisfying. The inspiring nature of his surroundings seemed to
stimulate him to higher effort and loftier work, which should call into
play the imaginative faculties and in which the brain would be free to
weave its own creations. Stronger within him grew the desire to write a
novel which should have in it something of the power, the force, of the
strenuous western life,--something which would seem, in a measure at
least, worthy of his surroundings. His day's work ended, he would walk
up and down the rocks, sometimes far into the night, the plot for this
story forming within his brain, till at last its outlines grew distinct
and he knew the thing that was to be, as the sculptor knows what will
come forth at his bidding from the lifeless marble. He made a careful
synopsis of the plot that nothing might escape him in the uncertain
future, and then began to write.

The order of his work was now reversed, the new undertaking being given
his first and best thought; then, when imagination wearied and refused
to rise above the realms of fact, he fell back upon his scientific work
as a rest from the other. Thus employed the weeks passed with incredible
swiftness, the monotony broken by an occasional visit from Mr. Britton,
until August came, its hot breath turning the grasses sere and brown.

One evening Darrell came forth from his work at a later hour than usual.
His mind had been unusually active, his imagination vivid, but, wearied
at last, he was compelled to stop short of the task he had se