nd sought his shoulders. The very frankness and simplicity of the
gesture sent a chill to Sandy's heart.

"Big, good Sandy!" There was a subtle plea in glance and words. The
girlish need was driving the desperate woman back and out of sight.
Cynthia could not kill the truth that had been born within her, but she
could blind it, stun it and still keep for her own what the childish
craving demanded.

"Big, good Sandy! Please be my Sandy, like you were a brother. I
would be so lonely without you; I would miss this--this dear place
mighty bad--but if you say such words, if you forget I am still lil'
Cyn, why don't you see--I cannot come up this-er-way any more?"

So perfect was the attempt that it took all the girl's pride and
strength to hold it. It was a bit overdone and Sandy fell back a step
with a memory that Cynthia would never have resurrected had she had her
way.

"I--am not worthy of you, Cynthia. I had forgotten, dear. You see,
for seven years I have lived where such things did not matter; I have
learned that they do _not_ matter when all is said and done. Can you
not trust me and forget that a Walden and a Morley are different----"

"Oh! Sandy!" and now the white, white face turned scarlet--"you think
that of me?"

"It's in the blood of us all, Cynthia, but you and I, by forgetting
it--can do so much."

"It is not that, Sandy."

"I know, dear, that I am old beside you--I know that I dare much when I
say I am willing to take you, child as you are, and run the risk of
making you love me while the woman of you--grows! I will help it
grow--God help me! How I will glory in the task and if I fail----"

Sandy had drawn her hands from his shoulders and now held them fast and
close.

"I will make you free, set you as free as you are to-day, my white
blossom girl! You cannot understand; but God hears me and I swear it!"

Cynthia did _not_ understand, but his fine passion flooded her soul
with white light.

"How wonderful you are," she whispered. "You stand out big and high
like our mountain----"

At that word Sandy closed his eyes, for he dared not look upon the
dear, slow-smiling lips.

"But, Sandy, you are covered with--with mist like Lost Mountain
sometimes is. Let me find you, Sandy, not as you would help me find
you, but in my own way. Will you do this for--lil' Cyn?"

Without opening his eyes Sandy drew the clinging hands to his lips and
kissed them.

"When you find me, dear heart