CHAPTER XIII.
THE EVENING AND THE MORNING.
Josephine had come.

All night and all the next day she had been by her aunt's bedside; for Day's wife lay helpless now, and death was very near.

This much Caius knew, having kept himself informed by communication with the village doctor, and twenty-four hours after Josephine's arrival he walked over to the Day farm, hoping that, as the cool of the evening might relax the strain in the sick-room, she would be able to speak to him for a few minutes.
When he got to the dreary house he met its owner, who had just finished his evening work.

The two men sat on wooden chairs outside the door and watched the dusk gathering on sea and land, and although they did not talk much, each felt glad of the other's companionship.
It was nine years since Caius had first made up his mind that Day was a monster of brutality and wickedness; now he could not think himself back into the state of mind that could have formed such a judgment When Caius had condemned Day, he had been a religions youth who thought well of himself; now his old religious habits and beliefs had dropped off, but he did not think well of himself or harshly of his neighbour.

In those days he had felt sufficient for life; now all his feeling was summed up in the desire that was scarcely a hope, that some heavenly power, holy and strong, would come to his aid.
It is when the whole good of life hangs in a trembling balance that people become like children, and feel the need of the motherly powers of Heaven.