She leant over and kissed the tearful face, and with a final squeeze of the hand, she rose from the bed to depart on her mission. In her wisdom she knew that the thing she desired would be accomplished.
CHAPTER XXXV
Molly Comes Back
THREE days later Blanche’s labours had borne that ample fruit she had looked for. She had known that Nature would fulfil her good work if only she could uproot the mental tares that threatened to grow up in the fruitful soil of Molly’s mind. After the first break through of the barrier of the girl’s reticence Blanche had laboured incessantly, with tact and imagination. She had given the girl no excuse for further unhealthy brooding on the disaster into which her love had plunged her. And Molly’s natural courage had been her staunch ally.
Had Molly been weakly sentimental, had she obtained her early schooling in anything less rugged than her mountain world, the task might well have been more difficult. But Molly was of the very essence of the mountains. Her emotions of love and passionate resentment, and even hate, were strong, and as irresistible as the torrential mountain streams. Her love knew no bounds. Her generosity was no less. And, equally, when stirred to passionate anger, her mood was without mercy. Now her anger and hate were as deeply stirred as had been her love for the man who had betrayed her. And her salvation in those early days lay in the tremendous reaction of it all, and in the manner in which Blanche’s sympathy convinced her that her girlish weakness, however to be regretted, was no crime in the eyes of God and humanity.
So the nurse realised the girl’s swift return to health. And the last concern remaining to her was the final achievement she looked for. Her own work was Molly’s complete recovery with her fresh young heart unburdened. She knew that the white-haired brother she had given up so much for must accomplish the rest.
It was Molly’s first day in the open mountain air she loved. For nearly a week she had lived in the shaded bedroom which Blanche had instantly given up to her. For all that time she had seen no one, and spoken to no one but Blanche and the little doctor who had stumbled on the devious road of his professional life. Now, as she gazed out from the verandah, she felt that the world had again opened its doors, and she wondered and feared for the reception awaiting her.
She dreaded the daylight that she felt to be searching her soul. She smelt the sweetness of the mountain air, and felt that in its very purity it must be condemning her, and mocking her. She longed for the saddle, that she might hurry home to the farm, where she could hide herself from the eyes of the world, where she knew that no word of blame would ever pass the lips of the savage old Lightning. It was a moment of intense panic when Blanche helped her to a capacious lounging chair, and set a light rug about her knees and ankles.
Blanche smiled encouragingly as Molly gazed up at her from the depths of her chair.
“You know, dear, there’s no time in the world for a woman like her first appearance from a sick-room with men-folk around. They just stand around saying fool speeches that aren’t true, and pass her all the help she doesn’t need. It’s the man in them trying to be kind, and, if I’m a judge, they mostly succeed. In awhile Larry’ll be along, and he’ll be talking to you as if he wanted to marry you instead of me. Then Jim’ll get around, with his white hair—he’s only a year older than me—and you’ll sort of feel you’ve known him all your life. That’s his way.”
“I—I wish they wouldn’t come.”