“I—I like to come, generally, Uncle William.”
“But—other times, out of the general? You come oftener then. Why?”
And now Lynda turned her clear, dark eyes upon him. A sudden resolve had been taken. She was going to comfort him as she never had before, going to recompense him for the weeks just past when she had failed him while espousing Con’s cause. She was going to share her secret with him!
“Just before mother went, Uncle William, she told me—”
The hand holding the cigar swayed—it was a very frail, thin hand.
“Told you—what?”
“That you once—loved her.”
The old wound ached as it was bared. Lynda meant to comfort, but she was causing excruciating pain.
“She—told you that? And you so young! Why should she so burden you—she of all women?”
“And—my mother loved you, Uncle William! She found it out too late and—and after that she did her best for—for Brace and me and—father!”