"And Jim White is off raising a posse, he means to--to see fair play.

Wait until Jim comes back; then give yourself up."

"And then--then, Nella-Rose?"

The young, keen face among the dead leaves glowed with a light that sent the blood from Nella-Rose's heart.

"See"--she said inconsequently--"I have" (she counted them out), "I have a dozen eggs; give them to Miss Lois Ann!"

"Let me touch you, Nella-Rose! Just let me touch your lil' hand."

"Wait until Jim White comes back!"

Then, because a rabbit scurried from its shelter, Burke Lawson sank into his, and Nella-Rose in mad haste took to the trail and was gone! A moment later Lawson peered out again and tried to decide which way she went, but his wits were confused--so he laughed that easy, fearless laugh of his and put in his hat the eggs Nella-Rose had left. Then, crawling and edging along, he retraced his steps to that hole in the Hollow where he knew he was as safe as if he were in his grave.

With distance and rea.s.surance on her side, Nella-Rose paused to take breath. She had been thoroughly frightened. Her beautiful plans, unsuspected by all the world, had been threatened by an unlooked-for danger. She had never contemplated Burke Lawson as a complication. She was living day by day, hour by hour. Jim White she had accepted as a menace--but Burke never! She was no longer the girl Lawson had known, but how could she hope to make him understand that? Her tender, love-seeking nature had, in the past, accepted the best the mountains offered--and Burke had been the best. She had played with him--teased Marg with him--revelled in the excitement, but _now_? Well, the blindness had been torn from her eyes--the shackles from her feet. No one, nothing, could hold her from her own! She must not be defrauded and imprisoned again!

Yes, that was it--imprisoned just when she had learned to use her wings!

Standing in the tangle of undergrowth, Nella-Rose clenched her small hands and raised wide eyes to the skies.

"I seem," she panted--and at that moment all her untamed mysticism swayed her--"like I was going along the tracks in the dark and something is coming--something like that train long ago!"

Then she closed her eyes and her uplifted face softened and quivered.

Behind the drooping lids she saw--Truedale! Quite vividly he materialized to her excited fancy. It was the first time she had ever been able to command him in this fashion.

"I'm going to him!" The words were like a pa.s.sionate prayer rather than an affirmation. "I'm going to follow like I followed long ago!" She clutched the basket and fled along.

And while this was happening, Truedale, in his cabin, was working as he had not worked in years. He had burned all his bridges and outlying outposts; he was waiting for White, and his plans were completed. He meant to confide everything to his only friend--for such Jim seemed in the hazy and desolated present--then he would marry Nella-Rose off-hand; there must be a minister somewhere! After that? Well, after that Truedale grasped his ma.n.u.script and fell to work like one inspired.

Lynda Kendall would never have known the play in its present form.

Truedale's ideal had always been to portray a free woman--a super-woman; one who had evolved into the freedom from shattered chains. He now had a heroine free, in that she had never been enslaved. If one greater than he had put a soul in a statue, Truedale believed that he could awaken a child of nature and show her her own beautiful soul. He had outlined, a time back, a sylvan Galatea; and now, as he sat in the still room, the framework a.s.sumed form and substance; it breathed and moved him divinely. It and he were alone in the universe; they were to begin the world--he and--

Just then the advance messenger of the coming change of weather entered by way of a lowered window. It was a smart little breeze and it flippantly sent the ashes flying on the hearth and several sheets of paper broadcast in the room. Truedale sprang to recover his treasures; he caught four or five, but one escaped his notice and floated toward the door, which was ajar.

"Whew!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "that was a narrow escape," and he began to sort and arrange the sheets on the table.

"Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two. Now where in thunder is that sixty-three?"

A light touch on his arm made him spring to his feet, every nerve a-tingle.

"Here it is! It seemed like it came to meet me."

"Nella-Rose!"

The girl nodded, holding out the paper.

"So you have come? Why--did you?"

The dimples came into play and Truedale stood watching them while many emotions flayed him; but gradually his weakness pa.s.sed and he was able to a.s.sume an extremely stern though kindly manner. He meant to set the child right; he meant to see _only_ the _child_ in her until White returned; he would ignore the perilously sweet woman-appeal to his senses until such time as he could, with safety, let them once more hold part in their relations with each other.

But even as he arrived at this wise conclusion, he was noting, as often before he had noted, the fascinating colour and quality of Nella-Rose's hair. It was both dark and light. If smoke were filled with sunlight it would be something like the ma.s.s of more or less loosened tendrils that crowned the girl's pretty head. Stern resolve began to melt before the girlish sweetness and audacity, but Truedale made one last struggle; he thought of staunch and true Brace Kendall! And, be it to Brace Kendall's credit, the course Conning endeavoured to take was a wise one.

"See here, Nella-Rose, you ought not to come here--alone!"

"Why? Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Of course. But why did you come?" This was risky. Truedale recognized it at once.

"Just to say--'how-de'! You certainly do look scroogy."

At this Truedale laughed. Nella-Rose's capacity for bringing forth his happier, merrier nature was one of her endearing charms.

"You didn't come just for that, Nella-Rose!" This with stern disapproval.

"Take off the scroogy face--then I'll tell you why I came."

"Very well!" Truedale smiled weakly. "Why?"

"I'm right hungry. I--I want a party."

Of course this would never do. White, or one of the blood-and-thunder raiders, might appear.

"You must go, Nella-Rose."

"Not"--here she sat down firmly and undid her ridiculous plaid shawl--"not till you give me a bite. Just a mighty little bite--I'm starving!"

At this Truedale roared with laughter and went hurriedly to his closet.

The girl must eat and--_go_. Mechanically he set about placing food upon the table. Then he sat opposite Nella-Rose while she ate with frank enjoyment the remains of his own noon-day meal. He could not but note, as he often did, the daintiness with which she accomplished the task.

Other women, as Truedale remembered, were not prepossessing when attacking food; but this girl made a gracious little ceremony of the affair. She placed the small dishes in orderly array before her; she poised herself lightly on the edge of the chair and nibbled--there was no other word for it--as a perky little chipmunk might, the morsels she raised gracefully to her mouth. She was genuinely hungry and for a few minutes devoted her attention to the matter in hand.

Then, suddenly, Nella-Rose did something that shattered the last sc.r.a.p of self-control that was a.s.sociated with the trusty Kendall and his good example. She raised a bit of food on her fork and held it out to Truedale, her lovely eyes looking wistfully into his.

"Please! I feel so ornery eating alone. I want to--share! Please play party with me!"

Truedale tried to say "I had my dinner an hour ago"; instead, he leaned across his folded arms and murmured, as if quite outside his own volition:

"I--I love you!"

Nella-Rose dropped the fork and leaned back. Her lids fell over the wide eyes--the smile faded from her lips.

"Do you belong to any one--else, Nella-Rose?"

"No--oh! no." This like a frightened cry.

"But others--some one must have told you--of love. Do you know what love means?"

"Yes."