ou need if
you love me. You haven't been yourself for six months, father, and all
for this trouble. I have watched you more than you think, and wished
many times you had never heard of it."

She had spoken earnestly and truthfully, and when she ceased Uncle Terry
looked at her a moment and then suddenly dropped the reins and putting
both arms around her, held her for a moment and then kissed her. It was
a surprise to her, and the first of its kind for many years.

"I hain't bin thinkin' 'bout myself in this matter," he observed as he
picked up the reins again and chirruped to the old horse, "an' only am
wantin' ter see ye provided fur, Telly. As fur Mr. Page or any other
man, every woman needs a purtector in this world, an' when the right 'un
comes along, don't let yer feelin's or sense o' duty stand in the way o'
havin' a home o' yer own."

"But you are not anxious to be rid of me, are you, father?" asked Telly,
smiling now and gladdened by his unusual caress.

"Ye won't think that o' me," he replied, as they rattled down the sharp
inclines into the village, and the ride came to an end.

But she noticed after that that he wanted her with him oftener than
ever.

Later when another letter came for her in a hand that he recognized, he
handed it to her with a smile and immediately left her alone to read
it.

CHAPTER XXXIV

FIRELIGHT FLASHES

The halcyon days of autumn, that seemed like the last sweet smiles of
summer, had come, when one day Albert packed a valise and boarded the
early morning train for Maine. An insidious longing to see the girl that
had been in his thoughts for four months had come to him and week by
week increased until it had overcome business demands. Then he had a
little good news from Stockholm, which, as he said to himself, would
serve as an excuse. He had told Frank what his errand was to Uncle
Terry, and to say to any that called that he would return in two days.
Of his possible reception by Telly he was a good deal in doubt. She had
written to him in reply to his letters, but between each of the simple,
unaffected lines all he could read was an undertone of sadness. That,
with a vivid recollection of what Uncle Terry had disclosed, led him to
believe there was some burden on her mind and that he had or was no part
in it.

When he grasped Uncle Terry's hand at the boat landing that old man's
face fairly beamed.

"I'm right glad ter see ye," he said, "an' so'll the folks be.