"Make it soft dull red, Lyn--but not _too_ dull."

Truedale no longer meant to lay his secret bare before departing for the South. While he would not acknowledge it to his anxious heart, he realized that he must base the future on the outcome of his journey.

Once he laid hands upon Nella-Rose, he would act promptly and hopefully, but--he must be sure, now, before he made a misstep. There had been mistakes enough, heaven knew; he must no longer play the fool.

And then when the little gilded cage was ready, Truedale conceived his big and desperate idea. Two weeks had pa.s.sed since Jim White's letter and no telegram or note had come from Nella-Rose. Neither love nor caution could wait longer. Truedale decided to go to Pine Cone. Not as a returned traveller, certainly not--at first--to White, but to Lone Dome, and there, pa.s.sing himself off as a chance wayfarer, he would gather as much truth as he could, estimate the value of it, and upon it take his future course. In all probability, he thought--and he was almost gay now that he was about to take matters into his own hands--he would ferret out the real facts and be back with his quarry before another week. It was merely a matter of getting the truth and being on the spot.

Nella-Rose's family might, for reasons of their own, have deceived Jim White. Certainly if they did not know at the time of Nella-Rose's whereabouts they would, like others, voice the suspicion of the hills; but by now they would either have her with them or know positively where she was. For all his determination to believe this, Truedale had his moments of sickening doubt. The simple statement in White's letter, burned, as time went on, into his very soul.

But, whatever came--whatever there was to know--he meant to go at once to headquarters. He would remain, too, until Peter Greyson was sober enough to state facts. He recalled clearly Jim's estimate of Greyson and his dual nature depending so largely upon the effect of the mountain whisky.

It was late November when Truedale set forth. No one made any objection to his going now. Things were running smoothly and if he had to go at all to straighten out any loose ends, he had better go at once.

To Lynda the journey seemed simple enough. Truedale had left, among other belongings, his ma.n.u.script and books. Naturally he would not trust them to another's careless handling.

At Washington, Truedale bought a rough tramping rig and continued his journey with genuine enjoyment of the adventure. Now that he was nearing the scene of his past experience he could better understand the delay.

Things moved so slowly among the hills and naturally Nella-Rose, trusting and fond, was part of the sluggish life. How she would show her small, white teeth when, smiling in his arms, she told him all about it!

It would not take long to make her forget the weary time of absence and White's misconception.

Truedale proceeded by deliberate stages. He wanted to gather all he possibly could as a foundation upon which to build. The first day after he left the train at the station--and it had b.u.mped at the end of the rails just as it had on his previous trip--he walked to the Centre and there encountered Merrivale.

"Well, stranger," the old man inquired, "whar yer goin', if it ain't askin' too much?"

And Truedale expansively explained. He was tramping through the mountains for pure enjoyment; had heard of the hospitality he might expect and meant to test it.

Merrivale was pleased but cautious. He was full of questions himself, but ran to cover every time his visitor ventured one. Truedale soon learned his lesson and absorbed what was offered without openly claiming more. He remained over night with Merrivale and stocked up the next morning from the store.

He had heard much, but little to any purpose. He carried away with him a pretty clear picture of Burke Lawson who, by Merrivale's high favour, appeared heroic. The storm, the search, Lawson's escape and supposed carrying off of Nella-Rose, were the chief topics of conversation.

Merrivale chuckled in delight over this.

The afternoon of the second day Truedale reached Lone Dome and came upon Peter, sober and surprisingly respectable, sunning himself on the west side of the house.

The first glance at the stately old figure, gone to decay like a tree with dead rot, startled and amazed Truedale and he thanked heaven that the master of Lone Dome was himself and therefore to be relied upon; no one could possibly suspect Peter of cunning or deceit in his present condition.

Greyson greeted the stranger cordially. He was in truth desperately forlorn and near the outer edge of endurance. An hour more and he would have defied the powers that had recently taken control of him, and made for the still in the deep woods; but the coming of Truedale saved him from that and diverted his tragic thoughts.

The fact was Marg and Jed had gone away to be married. Owing to the death of the near-by minister in the late storm, they had to travel a considerable distance in order to begin life according to Marg's strict ideas of propriety. Before leaving she had impressed upon her father the necessity of his keeping a clear head in her absence.

"We-all may be gone days, father," she had said, "and yo' certainly do drop in owdacious places when you're drunk. Yo' might freeze or starve.

Agin, a lurking beast, hunting fo' food, might chaw yo' fo' yo' got yo'

senses."

Something of this Greyson explained to his guest while setting forth the evening meal and apologizing for the lack of stimulant.

"Being her marriage trip I let Marg have her way and a mind free o'

worry 'bout me. But women don't understand, G.o.d bless 'em! What's a drop in yo' own home? But fo' she started forth Marg spilled every jug onto the wood pile. When I see the flames extry sparkling I know the reason!"

Greyson chuckled, walking to and fro from table to pantry, with steady, almost dignified strides.

"That's all right," Truedale hastened to say, "I'm rather inclined to agree with your daughter; and--" raising the concoction Peter had evolved--"this tea--"

"Coffee, sir."

"Excuse me! This coffee goes right to the spot."

They ate and grew confidential. Edging close, but keeping under cover, Truedale gained the confidence of the lonely, broken man and, late in the evening, the hideous truth, as Truedale was compelled to believe, was in his keeping.

For an hour Greyson had been nodding and dozing; then, apologetically, rousing. Truedale once suggested bed, but for some unexplainable reason Peter shrank from leaving his guest. Then, risking a great deal, Truedale asked nonchalantly:

"Have you other children besides this daughter who is on her wedding trip? It's rather hard--leaving you alone to shift for yourself."

Greyson was alert. Not only did he share the mountain dweller's wariness of question, but he instantly conceived the idea that the stranger had heard gossip and he was in arms to defend his own. His ancestors, who long ago had shielded the recreant great-aunt, were no keener than Peter now was to protect and preserve the honour of the little girl who, by her recent acts--and Greyson had only Jed's words and the mountain talk to go by--had aroused in him all that was fine enough to suffer. And Greyson was suffering as only a man can who, in a rare period of sobriety, views the wrecks of his own making.

Ordinarily, as White truly supposed, Peter lied only when he was drunk; but the sheriff could not estimate the vagaries of blood and so, at Truedale's question, the father of Nella-Rose, with the gesture inherited from a time of prosperity, rallied his forces and lied! Lied like a gentleman, he would have said. Broken and shabby as Greyson was, he appeared, at that moment, so simple and direct, that his listener, holding to the sheriff's estimate, was left with little doubt concerning what he heard. He, watching the weak and agonized face, believed Greyson was making the best of a sad business; but that he was weaving from whole cloth the garment that must cover the past, Truedale in his own misery never suspected. While he listened something died within him never to live again.

"Yes, sir. I have another daughter--lil' Nella-Rose."

Truedale shaded his face with his hand, but kept his eyes on Greyson's distorted face.

"Lil' Nella-Rose. I have to keep in mind her youth and enjoying ways or I'd be right hard on Nella-Rose. Yo' may have heard, while travelling about--o' Nella-Rose?" This was asked nervously--searchingly.

"I've--I've heard that name," Truedale ventured. "It's a name that--somehow clings and, being a writer-man, everything interests me."

Then Greyson gave an account of the trap episode tallying so exactly with White's version that it established a firm structure upon which to lay all that was to follow.

"And there ain't nothing as can raise a woman's tenderness and loyalty to a man," Greyson went on, "like getting into a hard fix, and sho'

Burke Lawson was in a right bad fix.

"I begin to see it all now. Nella-Rose went to Merrivale's and he told her Burke had come back. Merrivale told me that. Naturally it upset her and she followed him up to warn him. Think o' that lil' girl tracking 'long the hills, through all that storm, to--to save the man she had played with and flouted but loved, without knowing it! Nella-Rose was like that. She lit on things and took her fun--but in the big parts she always did come out strong."

Truedale shifted his position.

"I reckon I'm wearying you with my troubles?" Greyson spoke apologetically.

"No, no. Go on. This interests me very much."

"Well, sir, Burke Lawson and Jed Martin came on each other in the deep woods the night of the big storm and Burke and Jed had words and a scene. Jed owned up to that. It was life and death and I ain't blaming any one and I have one thing to thank Burke for--he might have done different and left a stain on a lady's name, sir! He told Jed how he had seen Nella-Rose and how she had scorned him for being a coward, but how she would take her words back if he dared come out and show his head.

And he 'lowed he was going to come out then and there, which he did, and he and Nella-Rose was going off to Cataract Falls where the Lawsons hailed from, on the mother's side."

"But--how do you know that your daughter kept her word? This Lawson may have been obliged to make away with himself--alone." Truedale grew more daring. He saw that Greyson, absorbed by his trouble, was less on guard.

But Greyson was keenly observant.

"He's heard the gossip," thought the old man, "it's ringing through the hills. Well, a dog as can fetch a bone can carry one!" With that conclusion reached, Peter made his master stroke.

"I've heard from her," he half whispered.

"Heard from her?" gasped Truedale, and even then Greyson seemed unaware of the att.i.tude of the stranger. "How--did you hear from her?"

"She wrote and sent the letter long of--of Bill Trim, a half-wit--but trusty. Nella-Rose went with Lawson--she 'lowed she had to. He came on her in the woods and held her to her word. She said as how she wanted to--to come home, but Lawson set forth as how an hour might mean his life--and put it up to lil' Nella-Rose! He--he swore as how he'd shoot himself if she didn't go with him--and it was like Burke to do it. He was always crazy mad for Nella-Rose, and there ain't anything he wouldn't do when he got balked. She--she had ter go--or see Lawson kill himself; so she went--but asked my pardon fo' causing the deep trouble.