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It would all have been so different oh! so different if we had all known. Then he told me a little about his will." No one saw the sudden crimson that dyed Lynda's white face and throat. "He was very fantastic about that. He made certain arrangements that were to take effect at once. He has left you three thousand a year, Con, without any restrictions whatever. He told me that.
"Betty, there was another love in Con's life one that should never have been there." This almost took Betty's breath. She was thankful Lynda's eyes were turned away; but by some strange magic the words raised Truedale in Betty's very human imagination. "I sometimes think the the thing that happened was the working out of an old inheritance; Con has overcome much, but that caught him in its snare.
Oh! you poor little ignoramus; the boy never had a soul worth mentioning until it got awakened, in self-defense, and grew its own limit. What did you and Brace know of the past the past that went into Con's making? You were free enough with your young condemnation and misplaced loyalty but how about justice?" Lynda's eyes were fixed upon Truedale's face.
I saw how I must come and tell you-all, and how maybe you'd take lil' Ann, and then I could go back to to my man and there'll be peace when he knows at last! Will you oh! will you be with me, kind lady, when I tell your your man?" Nella-Rose dropped at Lynda's feet and was pleading like a distraught child. "I've been so afraid.
"Will you tell me I could not go into this with McPherson, somehow; he didn't see it my way, naturally will you tell me what would have become of the the fortune had I not married you?" The deathly whiteness of Lynda's face did not stay Truedale's hard words; he was not thinking of her even of himself; he was thinking of the irony of fate in the broad sense. "The money would have come to me."
Lynda had somewhat opened Truedale's eyes, but Lynda's love and compassion unconsciously coloured the picture she drew. Here was a hard-headed business man, a man who had been close to William Truedale all his life, proving him now, to his own nephew, as a far-sighted, wise, even patient and merciful friend. Never had Truedale felt so small and humble.
He had no further fear for Nella-Rose and he bowed his head before Lynda's blazing eyes. "God bless you!" he whispered, "but oh! Lyn, I went back to make sure. I had the truth from her own father. And with all she stands to this day, in my memory, guiltless of the monstrous wrong she seemed to commit; and so she will always stand.
Then, very quietly: "And and why did she speak at the last?" Lynda's eyes filled with tears. "Because," she faltered, "since she could not have come to you without dishonour she sent me! Her confidence has been the sacredest thing in my life and I have tried to do as she desired. I I have failed sadly lately, but try to forgive me for my mother's sake!"
That she was ever tired and longed for strong arms to uphold her rarely occurred to any one except, perhaps, William Truedale, the invalid uncle of Conning. At this juncture of Lynda's career, she shrank from William Truedale as she never had before. Had Conning died, she knew she would never have seen the old man again.
There were delectable, wee chairs and conveniently low stools; there was a tiny bed set in a dim corner over which, on a protecting shield, angels with folded wings and rapt faces were outlined. "Why, this must be a nursery!" Truedale exclaimed half aloud; "and she said she would never design one." Clearly he recalled Lynda's reason.