uring those weeks did they speak of that past of Truedale's
that Lynda had accepted in silence.

"My wife," Truedale said--she was sitting beside him by the outdoor
fire--"I want you always to remember that I am more grateful than words
can express for your--bigness, your wonderful understanding. I did not
expect that even you, Lyn, could be--so!"

She trembled a little--he remembered that afterward--he felt her against
his shoulder.

"I think--I know," she whispered, "that women consider the _effect_ of
such--things, Con. Had the experience been low, it would have left its
mark; as it is I am sure--well, it has not darkened your vision."

"No, Lyn, no!"

"And lately, I have been thinking of her, Con--that little Nella-Rose."

"You--have? You _could_, Lyn?"

"Yes. At first I couldn't possibly comprehend--I do not now, really, but
I find myself believing, in spite of my inability to understand, that
the experience has cast such a light upon her way, poor child, that--off
in some rude mountain home--she has a little fairer space than some.
Con, knowing you, I believe you could not have--lowered her. She went
back to her natural love--it must have been a strong call--but I shall
never believe her depraved."

"Lyn," Truedale's voice was husky, "once you made me reconciled to my
uncle's death--it was the way you put it--and now you have made me dare
to be--happy."

"Men never grow up!" Lynda pressed her face to his shoulder, "they make
a bluff at caring for us and defending us and all the rest--but we
understand, we understand! I think women mother men always even when
they rely upon them most, as I do upon you! It's so splendid to think,
when we go home, of the great things we are going to do--together."

A letter from Brace, eventually, made them turn their faces homeward. It
was late July then.

LYN, DEAR:

When you can conveniently give me a thought, do. And when are you
coming back? I hope I shall not shock you unduly--but it's that
little sister of the Morrells that is the matter, Elizabeth
Arnold--Betty we call her. I've got to marry her as soon as I can.
I'll never be able to do any serious business again until I get her
behind the coffee-urn. She haunts me day and night and then when I
see her--she laughs at me! We've been over to look at that church
where you and Con were married. Betty likes it, but prefers her own
folk to stray old women and lost ki