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The wayward, wild creature of the hills, ensnared in the net woven by Lans's blind passion and irresponsibility, seemed so incapable of fulfilling any role that demanded the recognition of her as a wife in this superficial environment that Matilda felt immoral and sacrilegious. She wanted to say, instead of leaving it to a higher power, "Your task is done, lil' girl!
And that night, on the paper of a quiet little hotel, Matilda wrote a brief note to Lost Hollow. She addressed it to Levi. I'm going to stay on a spell. I never felt better in my life. It was the thinking that life didn't need me any more, that was running me down. It's awful foolish for old folks to let go of things. By the way, I called at Olive Treadwell's to-day and saw Lans's wife.
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.
Aunt Olive is out of sight." Strangely enough Cynthia did not dream of the play that night; nor did the sad, fair face of Lans's one-time friend hold part in her visions, but she did dream of Lost Mountain as she had not dreamed of it in many a night. She was back among the dear, plain home scenes.
Sandy meant to save The Hollow alone and single-handed Sandy was limited, that was Lans's modest interpretation but Treadwell had his vision, too, and his vision included her! It was breath-taking and alluring. Treadwell did not make any physical or emotional claims upon the girl something led him dangerously, but wisely. He taught her to call him brother and he spoke to her as "little sister."
This did not interest Cynthia but Lans's sharp start did. She turned and looked at him and then followed his eyes. A pale, slim woman in black was looking at them from the orchestra seats. The expression on the thin face remained in Cynthia's memory even when the scenes of the enthralling play drove it, for the time being, into shadow. "Blue is Cynthia's colour," Mrs.
I'm a fool and worse, but you know how I am. Any big passion that seizes me holds me! I'm not responsible while the clutch is on me. I ought to be taken out and shot. But Sandy's blank stare called a halt. "I I wouldn't take it that way, Treadwell," he said, thinking that some obvious villainy of Crothers' had opened Lans's eyes to facts; "I may be able to get you out of the hole."
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."
He awoke Cynthia, touched her as if she was a spirit, and took her to the little town known as Sudley's Gap and there married her! Cynthia was excited and worn from her night's experience, but the ceremony and Lans's manner made it all seem like a new play. They were always playing together, he and she. Big brother and little sister lived in the moment and had no care for the past or future.
And now it was Lans's turn to stare blankly. With his temperament, time and place had no part. He was either travelling through space at a thundering speed or stagnating in a vacuum. He had almost forgotten Marian Spaulding and his present affair took on new and more potent meanings. "I I married Cynthia Walden!" he gasped. "I married her this morning. We were out alone all last night.
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