"Very well, Minty, to-morrow we shall begin making up for lost time. Let them watch us."
Cap'n Lem soon appeared, and the five made a happy supper party. During the meal the clouds lightened and the rain abated. Mrs. Lem would not hear to Sylvia's assisting in clearing away, but sent her upstairs to unpack her trunk. She was at work at it when the western sun suddenly shone out.
"The rainbow, the rainbow!" shouted Minty at the foot of the stairs.
"Where?" cried Sylvia.
"Over the mill."
Sylvia ran into Thinkright's room, which was on the eastern side of the house, and, throwing open a window, fell on her knees before it. In a protecting, splendid arch a perfect rainbow spanned the cloud above the mill. Rays of sunlight struck full upon the sightless eyes, and kissed its gray face until the tears sparkled into diamonds and the old building was beset with glory.
"The bow of promise," murmured Sylvia. She stretched out her hands to the mill. "Just open them a little way," she said. "You're no unhappier than I was, but I've found it such a good world! Just open your shutters and look. You'll always be glad. Perhaps you can't have everything you want, perhaps not the very thing you want most. What of that? Can't you trust? I'm learning to. 'Love alone will stay,' and it won't forget. It never forgets."
The girl's eyes lifted to the glorifying arch. One end curved to a distant forest and was lost, and the other dipped deep within the ocean. The Tide Mill grew to radiance beneath its caress. It seemed on the point of yielding, and opening gently to the setting sun.
At the climax of color Sylvia, smiling, dropped her eyelids. She would not see it fade. Suddenly, her ear was caught by a note as of a distant bell; then a tangle of bells, tiny, musical, and the song of the hermit thrush rang out from the far thicket.
