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Brace came close to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "What's the matter, girl?" he asked in his quick, blunt way. The tears came to Lynda's eyes, but she did not shrink. "Brother," she said slowly, "I I want to marry Con and I do not dare." Kendall dropped in the nearest chair, and stared blankly at his sister. "Would you mind being a bit more well, more explicit?" he faltered.
"But this is a welcome." "For whom?" "Well, for me! You see I've never had a real home, Lyn. It's one of the luxuries I've always dreamed of." "I had thought," Lynda's clear eyes clouded, "that your uncle's house would be your home at last. It is big enough for us all we need not run against each other." "Keep my room under the roof, Lyn." Truedale looked at her yearningly and she misunderstood!
To-morrow he would explain; he was eager to do so and end the restraint that sprang into being the moment he touched Lynda's hands. Lynda watched the tense face confronting her and believed Conning was suffering pangs of remorse and regret. She was filled with pity and sympathy shone in her eyes. She led him to the library and there familiarity greeted him the room was unchanged.
His frame of mind was so abject and personal that he could not get Lynda's point of view. He could not, as yet, see the insult he had offered, because he had set her so high and himself so low. He saw her only as the girl and woman who, her life through, had put herself aside and considered others. He saw himself in the light such a woman as he believed Lynda to be would regard him.
McPherson," Conning said presently, "he sent for me. He's been away, you know." "I had not known but " Then Lynda remembered! "Lynda, did you know of my uncle's will before his death?" "Why, yes, Con." Something cold and death-like clutched Lynda's heart. It was as if an icy wave had swept warmth and safety before it, leaving her aghast and afraid. "Yes, I knew."
"Ann, little Ann, don't say that!" she pleaded passionately: "I'll help you, and together we'll make it come true. We must, we must!" Her vehemence stilled the child. She put her hands on either side of Lynda's face and timidly faltered: "I'll I'll try." "Thank you, dear. And now I want to tell you something else we're going to have a Christmas tree."
His eyes were fixed upon the empty chair and, since he had not understood in the past, he could not express himself now. He was suffering the torture that all feel when, too late, revealment makes clear what never should have been hidden. "And then" Lynda's low, even voice went on "he sent me away and Thomas put him to bed.
"For the future," Lynda's calm voice almost startled the two men by its practicability and purpose, "this is home in the truest, biggest sense. No one shall even enter here and feel friendless. This is my trust; it shall be as he wished it, and I mean to have my own life, too! Why, the house is big enough for us all to live our lives and not interfere with each other.
Conning, instead of plunging into his confession, looked at her in such a protecting, yearning way that Lynda's eyes fell, and the soft colour slowly crept in her cheeks. In the stillness, that neither knew how to break, Truedale noticed the gown Lynda wore. It was blue and clinging.
The next night was terrifically stormy one of those spring storms that sweep everything before them. The bubbles danced on the pavements, the gutters ran floods, and fragments of umbrellas and garments floated incongruously on the tide. Battling against the wind, Conning made his way to Lynda's. As he drew near the house the glow from the windows seemed to meet and touch him with welcome.
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