She was blushing red, her face was radiant with quiet happiness, but her eyes were moist.  She crossed the room, bent over and kissed him on the forehead.

“Yes, John,” she said; “I’ve come back.  Yes, dear, I’ve come back to—­to you.”

Outside the shanty, on the side farthest from the light and its group of buildings, the doctor and Captain Nat Hammond were talking with Mrs. Higgins.  The latter was wildly excited and bubbling with joy.

“It’s splendid!” she exclaimed.  “It’s almost too fine to believe.  Now we’ll keep our minister, won’t we?”

“I don’t see why not,” observed the doctor, with quiet satisfaction.  “Zeb and I had the Daniels crowd licked to a shoestring and now they’ll stay licked.  The parish committee is three to one for Mr. Ellery and the congregation more than that.  Keep him?  You bet we’ll keep him!  And I’ll dance at his wedding—­that is, unless he’s got religious scruples against it.”

Mrs. Higgins turned to Captain Nat.

“It’s kind of hard for you, Nat,” she said.  “But it’s awful noble and self-sacrificin’ and everybody’ll say so.  Of course there wouldn’t be much satisfaction in havin’ a wife you knew cared more for another man.  But still it’s awful noble of you to give her up.”

The captain looked at the doctor and laughed quietly.

“Don’t let my nobility weigh on your mind, Mrs. Higgins,” he said.  “I’d made up my mind to do this very thing afore ever I got back to Trumet.  That is, if Gracie was willin’.  And when I found she was not only willin’ but joyful, I—­well, I decided to offer up the sacrifice right off.”

“You did?  You did?  Why, how you talk!  I never heard of such a thing in my born days.”

“Nor I neither, not exactly.  But there!” with a wink at Parker, “you see I’ve been off amongst all them Kanaka women and how do you know but I’ve fell in love?”

“Nat Hammond!”

“Oh, well, I—­What is it, Grace?”

She was standing in the doorway and beckoning to him.  Her cheeks were crimson, the breeze was tossing her hair about her forehead, and she made a picture that even the practical, unromantic doctor appreciated.

“By George, Nat!” he muttered, “you’ve got more courage than I have.  If ’twas my job to give her up to somebody else I’d think twice, I’ll bet.”

The captain went to meet her.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nat,” she whispered, “will you come in?  He wants to see you.”

John Ellery was still seated in the chair by the window, but he no longer looked like an invalid.  There was no worry or care in his countenance now, merely a wondrous joy and serene happiness.

He held out his hands and the captain shook them heartily.

“Mr. Ellery,” he said, “as they used to say at the circus, ’Here we are again.’  And you and I have been doing all kinds of circus acrobatics since we shook last, hey?  I’m glad you’re pretty nigh out of the sick bay—­and the doctor says you are.”