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Updated: June 14, 2025
And in this decision Lynda left herself so stranded and desolate that she looked up with wet eyes and saw William Truedale's empty chair! A great longing for her old friend rose in her breast a longing that not even death had taken from her.
Lynda understood the moment's hesitation and smiled slightly. "Con, there's one other thing in the house that remains as it was. Under the eaves the small room that was yours is yours still. I saw to it myself that not a book or picture was displaced. There are other rooms at your disposal to share with us but that room is yours, always."
He had a new and strange impulse to go to Lynda and tell her that at last he was released from any hold of the past. He was going to do what he could and there was no longer any dragging of the anchors. He wanted her to help him to work out some questions from the woman's point of view. So he hurried on and entered the house with a light, boyish step.
Then he turned his attention to his personal drama. He chose his box; there were to be Lynda and Ann, Brace and Betty, McPherson and himself in it. Betty, Brace, and the doctor were to have the three front chairs not because of undue humility on the author's part, but because there would, of course, be a big moment of revelation a moment when Lynda would know!
"I haven't yet. Not to them-all. I had to come here to him first. I reckon you don't know about Burke and me?" Lynda shook her head. She had thought she knew but she had wandered sadly. "When Marg laid my trouble to Burke he just took it! First I couldn't understand. But he took my trouble and me! He took lil' Ann and me out of Miss Lois Ann's cabin into peace and safety.
This was Nella-Rose's child, but why had Lynda ? And with this thought such a wave of emotion swept over Truedale that he feared, strong as he was, that he was going to lose consciousness. For a moment he struggled with sheer physical sensation, but he kept his eyes upon the small, dark face turned trustingly to his.
"Thornton, where did you get your inspiration your model?" Truedale asked, after the beauty of the thing had sunk into his heart. "In the clay. Such things are always in the clay," was the quiet reply. Lynda was deeply moved, not only by the statue, but by its creator. "Tell us, please," she said earnestly, "just what you mean. I think it will help us to understand."
Then Truedale, his eyes dim but undaunted, leaned and drew Lynda up until, kneeling before him, her hands upon his shoulders, they faced each other. "And this is the way women save men!" he said. "It is the way they try to save themselves," Lynda replied. "Oh, Con, Con, when will our men learn that it is the one life, the one great love that we women want? the full knowledge and responsibility?"
Then she fixed her gaze upon Lynda. It was an old, old look but young, too pleading, wonder-filled. The child was so like Truedale so unmercifully, cruelly like him that, for a moment, reason deserted Lynda and she covered her face with both hands and swayed with silent laughter. Nella-Rose bent over her child as if to protect her.
There was just one thing Lynda had to make clear in this vital moment, one truth that must be understood without trespassing on the sacred rights of others. Surely Nella-Rose should know all that there was to know before coming to her final decision.
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