“You remember, when we got to the highest point, we looked down into the great valleys, where the lakes and the villages were, and there it was still night under the heavy clouds.  But before us, where the peaks of the Jungfrau, and the Wetterhorn, and the rest of them rose into the clear sky, there was a curious faint light that showed the day was coming.  And we waited and watched, and the light grew stronger, and all sorts of colors began to show along the peaks.  That was the sunrise.  But down in the valleys everything was misty and dark and cold—­everything asleep; the people there could see nothing of the new day we were looking at.  And so I suppose it is with us now.  We are looking ahead.  We see, or fancy we see, the light before the others; but, sooner or later, they will see it also, for the sunrise is bound to come.”

They continued talking, and they paced up and down the decks, while the half-hours and hours were struck by the bells.  The moon was declining to the horizon.  Long ago the last of the revellers had left the smoking-room, and there was nothing to interrupt the stillness but the surge of the waters.

Then again—­

“Have you noticed Natalie’s mother of late?  It is a pleasure to watch the poor woman’s face; she seems to drink in happiness by merely looking at her daughter; every time that Natalie laughs you can see her mother’s eyes brighten.”

“I have noticed a great change in Natalie herself,” Evelyn said.  “She is looking younger; she has lost that strange, half-apprehensive expression of the eyes; and she seems to be in excellent spirits.  Calabressa is more devotedly her slave than ever.”

“You should have seen him when Von Zoesch told him to pack up and be off to America.”

By-and-by he said,

“You know, Evelyn, if you can’t stay in America with us altogether—­and that would be too much to expect—­don’t say anything as yet to Natalie about your going back.  She has the notion that our little colony is to be founded as a permanency.”

“Oh, I am in no hurry,” said Evelyn, carelessly.  “Things will get along at home well enough without me.  Didn’t I tell you that, once those girls began to go, they would go, like lightning?  It is rough on Blanche, though, that Truda should come next.  By-the-way, in any case, Brand, I must remain in America for your wedding.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” said Brand.  “Then that settles one point—­you won’t be going back very soon.”

“Why?”

“Of course, Natalie and I won’t marry until she is of age; that is a good year and a half yet.  Did you hear of Calabressa’s mad proposal that he should extort from Lind his consent to our marriage as the price of the good news that he, Calabressa, had to reveal?  Like him, wasn’t it? an ingenious scheme.”

“What did you say?”

“Why, what could I say?  I would not be put under any obligation to Lind on any account whatever.  We can wait; it is not a long time.”