But they were ready first after all, and the morning found them high up the mountainside with their faces to the east.
Sudden and splendid, the sun flashed up over the edge of the world, and the snow of the mountain crests shone in roselit glory for a few magic seconds, then shimmered to gold—glittering as the peaks of Paradise.
They did not speak at all, for the ground beneath their feet was holy, and all things that called for speech were left behind. Only as dawn became day—as the sun-god mounted triumphant above the waiting earth—the man's arm tightened about the woman, and his flickering eyes grew steadfast and reverent as the eyes of one who sees a vision….
"'Prophet and priestess we came—back from the dawning,'" quoted Nick, under his breath.
Muriel uttered a long, long sigh, and turned her face against her husband's shoulder.
His lips were on her forehead for a moment; the next he was peering into her face with his usual cheery grin.
"Care to hear my piece of news?" he questioned.
She looked at him eagerly. "Oh, Nick, not the mail!"
He nodded. "Runner came in late last night. You were asleep and dreaming of me. I hadn't the heart to wake you."
She laughed and blushed. "As if I should! Do you really imagine that I never think of anyone else? But go on. What news?"