The morning after the storm Justin went forth, moodily, for his morning flight.

He found opposition, however, to his ascension. "Wait until the afternoon," was the advice given him; "there's a nasty wind."

He would not listen, but he delayed his departure, preferring to start alone, and eventually the other aviators drifted off, and he made the "Gray Gull" ready.

Going down to the pier for a last peep at the weather, he was hailed by Captain Stubbs.

"I am going to take Anthony Blake out for a day's fishin'," the little man said, as his motor boat chugged comfortably within easy talking distance. "He telephoned last night that he wanted a day away from his work, and I said that the fish would be running after the rain. I'm always mighty glad to have him go with me. He's a born fisherman. His great-grandfather and mine fished together on the banks, and our grandfathers were part owners in the same schooner. But Anthony's father went to the city and studied medicine, and his son followed in his footsteps, so that's the way the Blake boys got switched off from fishin' as a business. But it's in their blood."

"Look here," Justin interrupted, "I want to ask you a question, captain, and it's about Anthony. Did you ever think he was in love with Diana Gregory?"

"Well," the captain meditated, "I ain't ever thought much about it. But Miss Matthews sees a lot, and she told me once that Anthony Blake wouldn't ever look at any other woman but Diana, and that Diana was just keeping him on the string."

"I can't exactly fancy Diana as that sort of woman."

"Well, it ain't anything against a woman that she don't know her own mind," was the captain's philosophical reflection. "Most men don't know their own mind when it comes to marryin'. Only the difference is this: a man loses his head and asks a girl, and then he wonders if she's going to make him happy. And a woman hesitates about sayin' 'Yes,' but when she once decides, she sticks to a man through thick and thin."

In spite of his gloom Justin smiled. "Where did you learn it all, captain? You are as wise as if you had been married to a half dozen wives."

"There's a sayin'," the captain explained, "that a sailor has a wife in every port. That ain't true. Sailors as a rule are constant men. But they see a lot of wimmen creatures, and they learn that there ain't much difference, when it comes to lovin', between a Spanish lady who flirts with her eyes, and a Boston lady who flirts with her brain. They're all after the same thing, and that's a home, with a big H, and it's a credit to them that they are—otherwise we men wouldn't ever know when to settle down."

"Yet it's because of a woman that some of us never settle down." Justin's young eyes were looking out stormily upon the gray world. "It's because of some woman that we wander and are never satisfied."

The little captain gave him a keen glance. "Well, you won't ever have to worry," he said; "all you've got to do is to keep at it till you find the right woman. That's what that Betty child said to me the other day. 'Captain, if a man wants a woman, he's got to keep after her until she says 'Yes.'"

"Did Betty Dolce say that?"

"Yes—she's a smart little thing."

But Justin's thoughts were not of her "smartness" but of her pathetic loveliness. All night her sobs had echoed in his heart. When he had driven his gay party home after their stop at Anthony's, he had ridden for miles alone in the storm. He had welcomed the beat of the rain in his face. He had yearned for some adventure which would shut out that vision of the shadowy room.

But no adventure had been forthcoming, and so he had sought his uneasy couch, and had tried to sleep, and had risen at the first crow of cocks.

He brought his mind back with difficulty to the captain. "I'm going up this morning, captain. I'll wigwag to you and Anthony if you're outside."

"Don't you go," the little captain advised earnestly; "this isn't any morning to fly. There's all sorts of storms about, and you can't tell what minute you'll get into one."

"Didn't you like to sail your ship in a storm—didn't you like the excitement of it—the battle with the wind and waves?"

"That's different. I knew my ship was seaworthy. I knew what I had to face in an ordinary storm. But you take one of those Chinese typhoons, or a hurricane that blew up from the Gulf, and I didn't enjoy it. Not a bit. I'd go miles to get out of one, and I learned this, after I had looked death in the face a hundred times, that foolhardiness doesn't pay. You go slow, and wait for a quiet day."

Justin laughed recklessly. "I'll take my chances."

"Well, there's no fool like a young fool." The little captain started his motor with a jerk, and its comfortable chugging was at once changed to an angry snort.

Justin did not at once go back to the sheds. He climbed a path which led to the adjoining hotel, and made his way to the writing rooms.

The people who lounged on the porches looked at him curiously as he passed. Those who had been there longest whispered to the newcomers the magic of his name. More than one girl remarked the beauty of the somber young countenance, and the strength of the straight young figure.

In the writing room of the big hotel Justin wrote to Diana. It was his last hope. He wrote hurriedly, using the elaborately monogrammed house paper, and his script was interspersed with dashes, with now and then a boyish blot.

When he had finished he went to the desk of the girl in the corridor who sold post-cards and magazines, and bought a stamp.

Anthony was delayed, somewhat, in starting out with Captain Stubbs by the news that Miss Matthews was worse.

He found her with a high fever, and he also found Bettina in a state of agitated apology.

"I'm afraid I talked to her too late. But we—we were afraid of the storm."

"She'll be all right in a few hours, but you've got to get some rest. I'll send a nurse."

"No—Sophie said she would come—early this afternoon—and then I can sleep—and I've had little naps on the couch——"

As he turned to go he stopped and said, with some hesitation: "You didn't write the letter to the Big Bear, Betty."

She blushed. "I'm not going to write it."

"Why not?"

"Because—I've changed my mind about it—I've really nothing to tell you—and every woman has a right to change her mind."

She tried to say it saucily, but was not successful, and he, vaguely relieved, responded, "I'm glad—that you are not troubled," kissed her lightly on her forehead, and went away. And she looked after him and sighed, and wondered if all the years which stretched before them would be as dreary as this.

The arrival of the little captain broke in upon her thoughts. "You give her these," he said. "I can't stay a minute. I'm going out with Anthony for a day's fishin'."

He rushed away, leaving Bettina with her arms full of pink roses.

She took them in to Miss Matthews. "Letty," she said, "the captain brought them. Isn't he romantic? He is making pink your color. I think it's dear of him."

Miss Matthews blushed. "I'd surely never have picked out Captain Stubbs for the romantic kind, but you never can tell."

"No, you never can tell," Betty agreed, and stood looking idly out of the window.

All at once she gave startled attention.

"Letty," she said, "Justin is flying."

Miss Matthews, half asleep, murmured, "Well, I'm glad you're not with him," and Bettina, recalled to her obligations to the invalid, answered with assumed carelessness, "So am I," and measured out Miss Matthews' medicine, and talked no more.

But her heart was beating madly as she followed his flight. He was up there—alone. Up there in that wonderful world! Was he thinking of her? Was he hearing, again, those celestial harmonies?

To-day there was no sunshine—but as he circled against the background of moving clouds her thoughts went to that wild hawk in "the wind swept sky."

She knew nothing of the danger. She did not know that, as yet, his machine was not perfected to a point where it could brave with immunity such weather as was threatened by the brooding sky. She only saw his flight—and her hurt heart craved the place which had been hers for a few brief moments of rapture.

When at last he was out of sight, she went about her little duties, but came back again and again to the window, watching for the time when he should reappear.

Anthony and the captain, half-way across the harbor, said things about Justin's recklessness, and spoke of the danger.

"Some day he'll get hurt," was the captain's conclusion, "and then he won't ever fly again."

"Yes." Anthony's eyes were following the "Gray Gull," which was now beyond the harbor and heading for the open sea; growing smaller and smaller, it was at last a mere speck on the horizon.

Then the captain and Anthony, having reached a place offshore which promised a good catch, put out their lines and entered at once upon that ecstatic state of watchfulness which is the heritage of the true fisherman.

The relief which Anthony felt from the cares which had oppressed him was magical. He was sailor enough to love the swell of the waves and the rippling music of the water as it slipped under the anchored boat; he was fisherman enough to be thrilled by the chances of capture; he was artist enough to gloat over the beauty of the dull morning—the white gulls circling overhead, the black rocks sticking their spines above the gray sea, a phantom four-masted ship sailing straight toward them out of the mists.

And he was man enough to think of the woman he loved, and to forget the pensive appealing child in the shadowy room. He had a vision of Diana up there in the forest—strong of spirit, wresting from life, even in her exile, the things which were worth while.

As they ate their lunch the little captain confided to Anthony the hope of his heart. "I'm going to ask Letty Matthews to marry me—I want to get her away from that school——"

"Good. I'll dance at your wedding."

"When am I to dance at yours?" the captain demanded, bluntly. "I should think it was about time that you were putting your furniture in that big house for Diana Gregory."

"Some of the furniture is in." Anthony slurred over the greater question by tactfully emphasizing the lesser. "I had my mother's piano sent over yesterday, and some of the things for the living-room and library. We haven't a place for them at Harbor Light—and then there's the china. I wish I could match up some of those pieces of White Canton, captain. I wonder if we could make an exchange. I've a lot of Crown Medallion which would fill out your set——"

Having thus started the little captain on his chief hobby, Anthony breathed a sigh of relief, and went on with his fishing.

The subject of the china sufficed to fill the captain's mind until the fish stopped biting, and they decided to go in.

It was just as they began their trip toward the harbor that Justin came back.

The wind was blowing now straight from the south, and the "Gray Gull" was making slow headway against it.

"Why don't he come down to the water? It's safer," said the little captain, anxiously. "There's every sign of a squall——"

But Justin kept on; between him and the harbor was the Neck, with its jagged shore line of rocks. He was evidently planning to cross the strip of land obliquely, as, in rounding the point to come up the harbor, he must get the full force of the wind—

As he sailed over them they caught the strong beat of his motor. It seemed, too, that he waved his hand; then he left them behind, keeping close to shore and above that jagged line of rocks.

"Oh, the fool," the captain murmured. "Why don't he get away from the land?"

The wind came with a mighty sweep; the air-ship gave a backward tilt, fluttered for a moment like a bird in a storm—then shot down with sickening swiftness!

"His motor has stopped," the captain shouted, "and he's lost control! If he strikes the rocks he's done for!"

Down—down! They had one glimpse of Justin struggling to free himself; they saw him jump clear, and the big machine crashed on the beach.

It was the little captain who forced his boat to record speed, but it was Anthony who went over the side and through the breakers to where Justin lay prostrate, half in and half out of the water.

Wet and dripping the doctor bent over the boy, put his hand to his heart and felt it beating faintly, then looked at the broken body and said, unsteadily:

"There's only a slim chance of saving him. We must get him to Harbor Light."

The accident had been seen from the harbor, and as the captain's boat shot around the Point with its precious burden, it met other boats coming out to meet it, and orders were shouted back and forth, so that when the rescuers reached the pier, there was a car ready for that which had gone out full of life and strength and which had come back beaten and bruised.

The girls on the porch of the big hotel cried in each other's arms, hysterically, as the car passed, and talked of the way the young aviator had looked in the morning.

But far up in a tall old house, crowned by a cupola, was a girl who did not cry. She had seen the "Gray Gull" come down and had guessed at the catastrophe. She had fainted away quietly, and lay now on the floor by the window with all of her fair hair shaken over her still white face.