Out of his travail he had climbed on stepping-stones of his dead self.

Resurgam! That had been his unquenchable cry.

Who had heard it?
Only the solitude of his lonely canyon, only the waiting, dreaming, watching walls, only the silent midnight shadows, only the white, blinking, passionless stars, only the wild creatures of his haunts, only the moaning wind in the pines--only these had been with him in his agony.

How near were these things to God?
Carley's heart seemed full to bursting.

Not another single moment could her mounting love abide in a heart that held a double purpose.