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He meant only to remove a baneful power from her path, so that she might lean to the boy who wanted to marry her. When in his sinister intent he divined the passionate hate of the soldier for the slacker he refused to listen to his conscience. The way out in Lorna's case he had discovered. But what relation had this new factor of his dilemma to Mel Iden?
She would be touched in her mother's heart; she would understand Mel now, and divine Lane's mission; and she would plead with her husband to consent, and to bring Mel back home. Lane was counting on that. He must never even hint such a hope, but nevertheless he had it, he believed in it. Joshua Iden would have the scales torn from his eyes.
He knew Lorna was meeting Swann. He had tried to find them, all to no avail. What he might have done heretofore was no longer significant; he knew what he meant to do now. But all at once Lane was confronted with remembrance of another thing he had resolved upon equally as strong as his determination to save Lorna and it was his intention to persuade Mel Iden to marry him.
I seem to remember you. Isn't your name Lane?" "Yes." "Who is the woman you want to marry?" "Miss Iden." "Miss Iden! You mean Joshua Iden's daughter?" "I do." The minister showed a grave surprise. "Aren't you rather late in making amends? No, I will not marry you until I investigate the matter," he replied, coldly. "You need not trouble yourself," replied Lane curtly, and went out.
In the morning it was another day, and the past was as if it were not. May the first dawned ideally springlike, warm, fresh, fragrant, with birds singing, sky a clear blue, and trees budding green and white. Lane yielded to an impulse that had grown stronger of late. His steps drew him to the little drab house where Mel Iden lived with her aunt.
Love would add to his despair. Mel Iden could never love him. He did not want her love. And yet, to live on and on, with such love as would swell and mount from his agony, with the barrier between them growing more terrible every day, was more than he cared to face. He would rather die.
I have to thank you, Larcher, for having caused me to learn what that was, in my former iden in the person of Murray Davenport. You see how the old and new selves will still overlap; but the confusion doesn't harm my sense of being Francis Turl as much as you might imagine; and the lapses will necessarily be fewer and fewer in time.
But nothing could daunt Lane. "Yes, Lane, I remember you," returned Iden. He returned Lane's hand-clasp, but not cordially. Lane had mapped out in his mind this little interview. Taking off his hat, he carefully lowered himself until his back was propped against the tree, and looked frankly at Iden. "It's warm. And I tire so easily.
He loved his sister, but not as he loved Mel Iden. Whatever had happened to Lorna or might happen, she would be equal to it. She had the boldness, the cool, calculating selfishness of the general run of modern girls. Her reactions were vastly different front Mel Iden's. Lane had lost hope of saving Lorna's soul.
"Have you seen any of the girls?" asked Blair. "I met Mel Iden," replied Lane. "You did? What did she " "Mel told me what explained some of your hints." "Ahuh! Poor Mel! How'd she look?" "Greatly changed," replied Lane, thoughtfully. "How do you remember Mel?" "Well, she was pretty soulful face wonderful smile that sort of thing." "She's beautiful now, and sad." "I shouldn't wonder.
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