"Thank God for it!" was all Sandy said in return.
CHAPTER XXVI
The work God had sent Cynthia to do came to hand very shortly after Miss Markham's return to Bretherton. Cynthia had spent one blessed day at the quiet old farm, then Mrs. Treadwell and she went down together and stayed over one night, and once Lans ran down and had an hour's talk with his Aunt 'Tilda before she slipped back to Lost Hollow and Cynthia's task came for her doing.
Lans's visit had sent Matilda to her knees beside the four-post bedstead in the room that had once been Caroline Markham's.
"Caroline," the trembling old lips had breathed, "it was your boy who came home to-day. Your boy!"
For Lans quite frankly and naturally had told his story. The hot blood of the South was well in command and the light of reason was in the sorry eyes.
"Aunt 'Tilda, all my life I've been excused and forgiven for my faults—bat I'm going to work my way out now, God helping me! I'm going to take whatever punishment and joy comes. Up there in the hills I was like a devil caged. I had passed through a trouble and been worsted; I saw Morley standing where I should have stood, had I been less a fool years ago. I couldn't seem to see, up there, how he deserved all that was his. I was just maddened. I wanted to get on top and—I let go myself! Cynthia seemed a child at first but all of a sudden she flashed upon all that was evil in me—and I went blindly ahead until I stood among them all in Morley's cabin. They all seemed so big and fine and true and I saw—myself! All at once I found myself wanting more than I had ever wanted anything in my life—to make good! I took my own way. Some day you will all understand. That little girl is going to have her choice by and by—I only wanted my fair chance to win out. When she makes her choice her soul will be hers—I promised Sandy Morley that!"
It was this that had sent Matilda to her knees beside the bed of Lans's mother.
And one evening—it was two days before Christmas, Lans took Cynthia and his Aunt Olive Treadwell to a theatre in Boston. The play was a popular one and, being late, Lans was obliged to take a box in order to get seats. Cynthia felt and looked like a child. The excitement and brilliancy brought colour to her cheeks and made her eyes dance. She hardly spoke and only now and then heard what her companions said.