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I'm going to Bretherton and that is only a half hour by rail from here. I want you to come to me, there. I must see you again. I'll explain to Mrs. Treadwell and Lans. I declare I haven't felt so like my old self for years and years." "Oh! dear lady!" Cynthia's shining eyes were large and happy; "dear lady! you mean you will let me see you in your own home?" "I mean just that." "Oh!
Throw-backs and neither of us realizing it, but just naturally coming together." Sandy was looking at his father. Martin was pale and haggard and his bony hands clutched his thin knees until the knuckles were strained and white. "Hertford!" whispered Martin; "Hertford!" "Sure thing!" Lans gave a laugh. "See, I'm discovered even in this disguise."
And by and by oh! a long time perhaps when you are all mighty happy and safe, you must tell her all about it, Lans, and make her love me a little! Tell her it was all I could do. She will understand and be right glad." "And you little Cyn?" The words 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.
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.
We understand each other fairly well; better, I think than most old men and young ones." "Exactly! That is what you think." "It is." "Very well, then listen. Remember I would not have come to you if I had not had evidence. You take exception to Lans and his ways of life, I have been informed that you have even called him a a libertine!" "With modifications yes!" "I do not ask, Mr.
Cynthia had spent one blessed day at the quiet old farm, then Mrs. Treadwell and she went down together and stayed over one night, and once Lans ran down and had an hour's talk with his Aunt 'Tilda before she slipped back to Lost Hollow and Cynthia's task came for her doing. Lans's visit had sent Matilda to her knees beside the four-post bedstead in the room that had once been Caroline Markham's.
That little girl is going to have her choice by and by I only wanted my fair chance to win out. When she makes her choice her soul will be hers I promised Sandy Morley that!" It was this that had sent Matilda to her knees beside the bed of Lans's mother. And one evening it was two days before Christmas, Lans took Cynthia and his Aunt Olive Treadwell to a theatre in Boston.
Sandy almost sprang up. "You won't mind," he said jerkily, "if I raise the window? The room is like a furnace." When he came back to his place, Lans, head bent forward in clasped hands, was ready for him. "Women are all alike in some ways. They never dare let go entirely and plunge! They hold on to something, get frightened, and scurry back to tradition.
Never mind! we have come home. Come home together, dear, you and I! How heavenly good it is for us to come together!" At every step the weariness and sense of peril, engendered by her experience, dropped from Cynthia. She was a woman, but Lans had left her soul to her, and she could clasp hands with the past quite confidently and joyously. "Home! home!"
So Lans found him, and gloomily took a chair across the hearth. "Have you had supper, Lans?" Sandy asked after greeting him cordially. "Yes. The storm kept me last night. I got back not long ago. I had a bite while I waited for the horse to be seen to. The poor beast was pretty well worn out."
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