dale's imagination. He
tried to recall the lines, but only the theme was clear. It was the
everlasting Song of To-morrow, always the one tune set to changing
ideals.

It was the same idea as the philosophy about each man's "interpretation"
of the story already written, which Conning had reflected upon so often.

At this time Truedale believed he firmly accepted the principle of
foreordination, or whatever one chose to call it. One followed the path
upon which one's feet had been set. One might linger and wander, within
certain limits, but always each must return to his destined trail!

A distant church clock struck one; the house was still at last--deathly
still. Two sounded, but Truedale thought on.

He finally succeeded in eliminating the entangling circumstances that
seemed to lie like a twisted skein in the years stretching between his
going forth from his uncle's house to this night of return. He tried to
understand himself, to estimate the man he was. In no egotistical sense
did he do this, but sternly, deliberately, because he felt that the
future demanded it. He must account to others, but first he must account
to himself.

He recalled his boyhood days when his uncle's distrust and apparent
dislike of him had driven him upon himself, almost taking self-respect
with it. He re-lived the barren years when, longing for love and
companionship, he found solace in a cold pride that carried him along
through school and into college, with a reputation for hard, unyielding
work, and unsocial habits.

How desperately lonely he had been--how cruelly underestimated--but he
had made no outcry. He had lived his years uncomplainingly--not even
voicing his successes and achievements. Through long practise in
self-restraint, his strength lay in deliberate calculation--not
indifferent action. He hid, from all but the Kendalls, his private
ambitions and hopes. He studied in order that he might shake himself
free from his uncle's hold upon him. He meant to pay every cent he had
borrowed--to secure, by some position that would supply the bare
necessities of life, time and opportunity for developing the talent he
secretly believed was his. He was prepared, once loose from obligation
to old William Truedale, to starve and prove his faith. And then--his
breakdown had come!

Cast adrift by loss of health, among surroundings that appealed to all
that was most dangerous in his nature--believing that his former
ambitions were defea