“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. “God bless you, Lyn,” was all he said.
CHAPTER XV
Two days, then three passed. 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.”