ubled their
confidence and trust. Once Alan would have been keenly and instantly
conscious of this slight chill; now he was not even aware of it.

When he ventured to go back to Four Winds he found the Captain on the
point of starting off for a cruise in his yacht. He was urbane and
friendly, utterly ignoring the incident of Alan's last visit and
regretting that business compelled him to go down the lake. Alan saw
him off with small regret and turned joyfully to Lynde, who was
walking under the pines with her dogs. She looked pale and tired and
her eyes were still troubled, but she smiled proudly and made no
reference to what had happened.

"I'm going to put these flowers on Mother's grave," she said, lifting
her slender hands filled with late white roses. "Mother loved flowers
and I always keep them near her when I can. You may come with me if
you like."

Alan had known Lynde's mother was buried under the pines but he had
never visited the spot before. The grave was at the westernmost end of
the pine wood, where it gave out on the lake, a beautiful spot, given
over to silence and shadow.

"Mother wished to be buried here," Lynde said, kneeling to arrange her
flowers. "Father would have taken her anywhere but she said she wanted
to be near us and near the lake she had loved so well. Father buried
her himself. He wouldn't have anyone else do anything for her. I am so
glad she is here. It would have been terrible to have seen her taken
far away--my sweet little mother."

"A mother is the best thing in the world--I realized that when I lost
mine," said Alan gently. "How long is it since your mother died?"

"Three years. Oh, I thought I should die too when she did. She was
very ill--she was never strong, you know--but I never thought she
could die. There was a year then--part of the time I didn't believe in
God at all and the rest I hated Him. I was very wicked but I was so
unhappy. Father had so many dreadful moods and--there was something
else. I used to wish to die."

She bowed her head on her hands and gazed moodily on the ground. Alan,
leaning against a pine tree, looked down at her. The sunlight fell
through the swaying boughs on her glory of burnished hair and lighted
up the curve of cheek and chin against the dark background of wood
brown. All the defiance and wildness had gone from her for the time
and she seemed like a helpless, weary child. He wanted to take her in
his arms and comfort her.

"You must