The Man Thou Gavest

by Harriet T. Comstock

No; he must accept the inevitable results of his action. His love, his earnest intention of some day living his own life in his own way, were to cost him more than he, blinded by selfishness and passion in the hills, had supposed.

Well, he was ready to pay to the uttermost though it cost him the deepest heart-ache. As he was prepared to undertake the burden his uncle’s belief in him entailed, so he was prepared, now that he saw things clearly, to forego the dearest and closest ties of his old life.

He wondered how he could ever have dreamed that he could go to Lynda and Brace with his amazing confession and expect them, in the first moment of shock, to open their hearts and understand him. He almost laughed, now, as he pictured the absurdity. And just then he drew himself up sharply and came to his conclusion.

He could not lay himself bare to any one as a sentimental ass; he must arrange things as soon as possible to return South; he would, just before starting, tell Lynda and Brace of his attachment for Nella-Rose. They would certainly understand why, in the stress and strain of recent events, he had not intruded his startling news before. He would neither ask nor expect sympathy or coöperation. He must assume that they could not comprehend him. This was going to be the hardest wrench of his life, Truedale recognized that, but it was the penalty he felt he must pay.

Then he would go—for his wife! He would secure her privately, by all the necessary conventions he had spurned so madly—he would bring her to his people and leave to her sweetness and tender charm the winning of that which he, in his blindness, had all but lost.

So, in this mood, he returned to his uncle’s house and wrote a long letter to Nella-Rose. He phrased it simply, as to a little child. He reminded her of the old story she had once told him of her belief that some day she was to do a mighty big thing.

“And now you have your chance!” he pleaded. “I cannot live in your hills, dear, though often you and I will return to them and be happy in the little log house. But you must come with me—your husband. Come down the Big Road, letting me lead you, and you must trust me and oh! my doney-gal, by your blessed sweetness and power you must win for me—for us both—what I, alone, can never win.”

There was more, much more, of love and longing, of tender loyalty and passionate reassurance, and having concluded his letter he sealed it, addressed it, and putting it in an envelope with a short note of explanation to Jim White as to its delivery, etc., he mailed it with such a sense of relief as he had not known in many a weary day.

He prepared himself for a period of patient waiting. He knew with what carelessness mail matter was regarded in the hills, and winter had already laid its hold upon Pine Cone, he felt sure. So while he waited he plunged eagerly into each day’s work and with delight saw how everything seemed to go through without a hitch. It began to look as if, when Nella-Rose’s reply came, there would be no reason for delay in bringing her to the North.

But this hope and vision did not banish entirely Truedale’s growing sorrow for the part he must inevitably take when the truth was known to Lynda and Brace. Harder and harder the telling of it appeared as the time drew near. Never had they seemed dearer or more sacred to him than now when he realized the hurt he must cause them. There were moments when he felt that he could not bear the eyes of Lynda—those friendly, trusting eyes. Would she ever be able, in the years to come, to forgive and forget? And Brace—how could that frank, direct nature comprehend the fever of madness that had, in the name of love, betrayed the confidence and faith of a lifetime? Well, much lay in the keeping of the little mountain girl whose fascination and loveliness would plead mightily. Of Nella-Rose’s power Truedale held no doubt.