Then he saw Stanford go into the tent and return again to the hammock; and soon there came floating up to him the sweet, plaintive music of Helen's guitar, and then her voice, full and low, with a wealth of womanhood in every tone, as she sang a love song to her mate.

Later, when the dancing flames of the camp fire had fallen to a dull red glow, he saw them go arm in arm into their tent.

Then all was still.

The red glow of the fire dimmed to a spark, and darkness drew close about the scene.

But even in the darkness the man could still see, under the wide, sheltering arms of the trees, a lighter spot--the white tent.
"Gethsemane," said the Dean to me once, when our talk had ranged wide and touched upon many things, "Gethsemane ain't no place; it's somethin' that happens.