On the second morning after the freeze a light dawned on the little man's sulking spirits. During the night the ice softened and a strong southerly breeze had swept every piece of it to sea.
Again the bay was a blue, shimmering mirror, reflecting the white flying clouds, and the marshes rang with the resounding cries of chattering wild fowl.
It was just nine o'clock, and Nan was busy humming a song and setting the table for breakfast, when Stuart heard the distant drum-beat of a tender's engine. The guide was returning from the shore, or the lost tender had come. If it were the guide he would probably bring news of the other men. His course lay over their trail. He threw off his cook's apron, put on his coat, sprang out of the galley, and called below:
"A tender is coming, Nan. Don't come on deck until I tell you."
The smile died from her beautiful face as she answered slowly:
In a moment he came back down the companion-way and spoke in quiet tones:
"It's just as I expected. They are both dead. The guide found them on the marsh over there, frozen."
"The marsh you and Cal were on?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yes. Both of them were kneeling. They died with their hands clasped in prayer."
"And you saved Cal from that?" she gasped, and turning, fled into her stateroom.
He went in to change his clothes and help lift the bodies on deck. Through the panelled wall he heard Nan softly sobbing.
Bivens refused at first to believe the doctor's startling announcement. He hurriedly dressed, came on deck, and for five minutes stood staring into the white, dead faces.
Without a word he went below and asked the doctor to call Stuart.
When his old friend entered, he took his hand quietly and for once in his life the little, black, piercing eyes were swimming in tears as he spoke.
"You're a great man, Jim, and what's bigger, you're a good one. If God will forgive me for the foolish things I said and did yesterday, I'll try to make it up to you, old boy. Is it all right?"
Stuart's answer was a nod, a smile and a pressure of the hand.
The stirring scenes of Virginia brought Stuart more and more into intimate personal relations with Bivens and he had taken advantage of the fact to draw away from his wife. The fierce temptation through which he had fought had left its scar, sobered his imagination, and brought him up sharply against the realization of danger. He had ceased to see Nan alone. Bivens's increasing devotion had made this easy and on Harriet's return from Europe with an engagement as understudy in grand opera his life settled down once more to the steady development of his ideal of service to the common people.