ds came in a groan.

"I? oh! I reckon this is what God meant me to do, Lans. For this he
brought me down The Way, and now he will let me go home!"

Mrs. Treadwell's step outside the door brought them both back to the poor
artificial environment that bound them.

"I--I cannot see her now!"

Cynthia crouched before the stern, conventional tread of the approaching
woman as if she were in a place she had no right to be and Lans quickly
opened a door leading from the sitting-room to a bedroom through which
she might escape. And as the slight figure ran from his sight he had a
sickening feeling as if, wakening from a dream of mystery and
enchantment, he found himself in the midst of sordid reality. The sweet
purity of the hills passed with Cynthia and the actualities of his future
entered with Olive Treadwell.

"Lans," she asked sharply, looking about the room, "who was the woman who
called here this morning? The woman Cynthia saw?"

"It was--Marian Spaulding."

"Good heavens! Did she talk to Cynthia?"

"She--tried to--Cynthia--could not understand."

"She will some day, though, Lans! Can you buy Marian off? I wouldn't
have believed she was so vicious. Did she--lie?"

"I rather imagine she spoke only--truth."

"Well! I reckon this is about the worst confusion that was ever brought
about. Without being positively bad, Lans, you've managed to create a
mighty lot of trouble for a good many innocent people."

"Yes, Aunt Olive."

Lans was standing by the window looking down into the empty street.

"What are you--going to do about it?"

Then Lans turned.

"Aunt Olive, I'm going to untangle the snarl--somehow! And I'm going to
stand by--Marian!"

"Marian? You talk like a madman, Lans, or a fool--and a depraved one at
that. You owe everything to Cynthia--you'll be held to it, too, by law!"

"Aunt Olive," and then Lans laughed a mirthless, cold laugh, "I wonder if
either you or I ever really seriously thought we could--hold Cynthia?
There is no law that could keep her here. She is of the hills. She came
into our lives just long enough to purify our air and--clear my vision.
She'll go back now. We--cannot keep her!"

"Go back--to whom?"

This practical question took the smile from Lans's lips.

"To Sandy Morley, I reckon," he said grimly; "most of every noble thing I
might have had--gets to him--sooner or later. He always loved her; she
has just confessed to me that she loves him."

C