"Lyn--I want to tell you--all about it! About something you must know."

Very quietly now, Lynda rolled her work together and tossed it, needles and all, upon the glowing logs. She was done, forever, with subterfuge and she knew it. The wool curled, blackened, and gave forth a scorched smell before the red coals subdued it. Then, with a straight, uplifted look:

"I'm ready, Con."

"Just before I broke down and went away, Brace once told me that my life had no background, no colour. Lynda, it is of that background about which you do not know, that I want to speak." He waited a moment, then went on:

"I went away--to the loneliest, the most beautiful place I had ever seen. For a time there seemed to be n.o.body in the world but the man with whom I lived and me. He liked and trusted me--I betrayed his trust!"

Lynda caught her breath and gave a little exclamation of dissent, wonder.

"You--betrayed him, Con! I cannot believe that. Go on."

"Yes. I betrayed his trust. He left me and went into the deep woods to hunt. He put everything in my care--everything. He was gone nearly three weeks. No one knew of my existence. They are like that down there. If you are an outsider you do not matter. I had arrived at dark; I was sent for a certain purpose; that was all that mattered. I began and ended with the man who was my host and who had been told to--to keep me secret." Truedale was gripping the arms of his chair and his words came punctuated by sharp pauses.

"And then, into that solitude, came a young girl. Remember, she did not know of my existence. We--discovered each other like creatures in a new world. There are no words to describe her--I cannot even attempt it, Lynda. I ruined her life. That's all!"

The bald, crushing truth was out. For a moment the man Lynda Kendall knew and loved seemed hiding behind this monster the confession had called forth. A lesser woman would have shrunk in affright, but not Lynda.

"No. That is not all," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely, putting her hands out as though pushing something tangible aside until she could reach Conning.

"I demand the rest."

"What matters it?" Truedale spoke bitterly. "If I tell how and why, can that alter the--fact? Oh! I have had my hours of explaining and justifying and glossing over; but I've come at last to the point where I see myself as I am and I shall never argue the thing again."

"Con, you have shown me the man as man might see him; I must--I must have him as a woman--as his G.o.d--must see him!"

"And you think it possible for me to grant this? You--you, Lynda, would you have me put up a defense for what I did?"

"No. But I would have you throw all the light upon it that you can. I want to see--for myself. I will not accept the hideous skeleton you have hung before me. Con, I have never really known but five men in my life; but women--women have lain heart deep along my way ever since--I learned to know my mother! Not only for yourself, but for that girl who drifted into your solitude, I demand light--all that you can give me!"

And now Truedale breathed hard and the muscles of his face twitched. He was about to lay bare the inscrutable, the holy thing of his life, fearing that even the woman near him could not be just. He had accepted his own fate, so he thought; he meant not to whine or complain, but how was he to live his life if Lynda failed to agree with him--where Nella-Rose was concerned?

"Will you--can you--do what I ask, Con?"

"Yes--in a minute."

"You--loved her? She loved you--Con?" Lynda strove to smooth the way, not so much for Truedale as for herself.

"Yes! I found her in my cabin one day when I returned from a long tramp.

She had decked herself out in my bathrobe and the old fez. Not knowing anything about me, she was horribly frightened when I came upon her. At first she seemed nothing but a child--she took me by storm. We met in the woods later. I read to her, taught her, played with her--I, who had never played in my life before. Then suddenly she became a woman! She knew no law but her own; she was full of courage and daring and a splendid disregard for conventions as--as we all know them. For her, they simply did not exist. I--I was willing and eager to cast my future hopes of happiness with hers--G.o.d knows I was sincere in that!

"Then came a night of storm--such as this. Can you imagine it in the black forests where small streams become rivers in a moment, carrying all before them as they plunge and roar down the mountain sides? Dangers of all sorts threatened and, in the midst of that storm, something occurred that involved me! I had sent Nella-Rose--that was her name--away earlier in the day. I could not trust myself. But she came back to warn me. It meant risking everything, for her people were abroad that night bent on ugly business; she had to betray them in order to save me. To have turned her adrift would have meant death, or worse.

She remained with me nearly a week--she and I alone in that cabin and cut off from the world--she and I! There was only myself to depend upon--and, Lynda, I failed again!"

"But, Con--you meant to--to marry her; you meant that--from the first?"

Lynda had forgotten herself, her suffering. She was struggling to save something more precious than her love; she was holding to her faith in Truedale.

"Good G.o.d! yes. It was the one thing I wanted--the one thing I planned.

In my madness it did not seem to matter much except as a safeguard for her--but I had no other thought or intention. We meant to go to a minister as soon as the storm released us. Then came the telegram about Uncle William, and the minister was killed during the storm. Lynda, I wanted to bring Nella-Rose to you just as she was, but she would not come. I left my address and told her to send for me if she needed me--I meant to return as soon as I could, anyway. I would have left anything for her. She never sent for me--and the very day I left--she--"

"What, Con? I must know all."

"Lynda, before G.o.d I believe something drove the child to it; you must not--you shall not judge her. But she went, the very night I left, to a man--a man of the hills--who had loved her all his life. He was in danger; he escaped, taking her with him!"

"I--I do _not_ believe it!" The words rang out sharply, defiantly.

Woman was in arms for woman. The loyalty that few men admit confronted Truedale now. It seemed to glorify the darkness about him. He had no further fear for Nella-Rose and he bowed his head before Lynda's blazing eyes.

"G.o.d bless you!" he whispered, "but oh! Lyn, I went back to make sure. I had the truth from her own father. And with all--she stands to this day, in my memory, guiltless of the monstrous wrong she seemed to commit; and so she will always stand.

"Since then, Lynda, I have lived a new piece of life; the past lies back there and it is dead, dead. I would not have told you this but for one great and tremendous thing. You will not understand this; no woman could. A man could, but not a woman.

"As I once loved--in another way--that child of the hills, I love you, the one woman of my manhood's clearer vision. Because of that love--I had to speak."

Truedale looked up and met the eyes that searched his soul.

"I believe you," Lynda faltered. "I do not understand, but I believe you. Go away now, Con, I want to think."

He rose at once and bent over her. "G.o.d bless you, Lyn," was all he said.

CHAPTER XV

Two days, then three pa.s.sed. Lynda tried to send for Truedale--tried to believe that she saw clearly at last, but having decided that she was ready she was again lost in doubt and plunged into a new struggle.

She neglected her work and grew pale and listless. Brace was worried and bewildered. He had never seen his sister in like mood and, missing Conning from the house, he drew, finally, his own conclusions.

One day, it was nearly a week after Truedale's call, Brace came upon his sister in the workshop over the extension. She was sitting on the window-ledge looking out into the old garden where a magnolia tree was in full bloom.

"Heigho, boy!" she said, welcoming him with her eyes. "I've just discovered that spring is here. I've always been ready for it before.

This year it has taken me by surprise."

Brace came close to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"What's the matter, girl?" he asked in his quick, blunt way.

The tears came to Lynda's eyes, but she did not shrink.

"Brother," she said slowly, "I--I want to marry Con and--I do not dare."

Kendall dropped in the nearest chair, and stared blankly at his sister.

"Would you mind being a bit more--well, more explicit?" he faltered.

"I'm going to ask you--some questions, dear. Will you--tell me true?"