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Updated: June 13, 2025
But there could be no leaving the girl in the hills after this; he must, as soon as he located her, bring her away; bring her into his life to his home and hers! A cold sweat broke out on Truedale's body as he lashed himself unmercifully in the still room where his two friends, one believing him asleep, waited for his awakening. Well, he was awake at last, thank God!
One day, it was nearly a week after Truedale's call, Brace came upon his sister in the workshop over the extension. She was sitting on the window-ledge looking out into the old garden where a magnolia tree was in full bloom. "Heigho, boy!" she said, welcoming him with her eyes. "I've just discovered that spring is here. I've always been ready for it before. This year it has taken me by surprise."
She concluded it was some one connected with the Saxe Home. That was largely in her mind at the moment. "I want to see" and here the strange little figure came to Lynda and held out a very dirty, crumpled piece of paper on which was written Truedale's name and address. "Mr. Truedale may not be home until evening," Lynda said.
And then, because Camden was a bit of a sentimentalist with a good deal of superstition tangled in his make-up, he took Truedale's play out of his pocket it had been spoiling the set of his coat all the evening and spread it out on the table that was cleared now of all but the coffee and the cigarettes which the angel-woman Camden did not smoke was puffing luxuriously.
With a wild laugh Burke took to the woods. Two years and a half following William Truedale's death found things much as the old gentleman would have liked. Often Lynda Kendall, sitting beside the long, low, empty chair, longed to tell her old friend all about it. Strange to say, the recluse in life had become very vital in death.
After the days just past days of anxiety, relief, and the proving of his love and hers no doubt remained in Truedale's heart; he was of the hills, now and forever! "No one can now!" This came passionately from Nella-Rose as she watched him. "They might make trouble until they found that out. They're too free with their guns. There's a lot to explain, little doney-gal."
And eventually this theme held and swayed the play this effect of a deep love upon such a nature as Nella-Rose's, the propelling power the redeeming and strengthening influence. In the end Truedale called his work "The Interpretation." And while this was going on behind the attic door, a seemingly slight incident had the effect of reinforcing Truedale's growing belief in his philosophy.
Lynda Kendall would never have known the play in its present form. Truedale's ideal had always been to portray a free woman a super-woman; one who had evolved into the freedom from shattered chains. He now had a heroine free, in that she had never been enslaved.
Curbed and somewhat re-modelled, she materialized and, while he dealt strictly with her, writing was possible. So the first day and night passed. On the second day Truedale's new strength demanded exercise and recreation. He couldn't be expected to lock himself in until White returned to chaperone him. After all, there was no need of being a fool.
She went back to her natural love it must have been a strong call but I shall never believe her depraved." "Lyn," Truedale's voice was husky, "once you made me reconciled to my uncle's death it was the way you put it and now you have made me dare to be happy." "Men never grow up!"
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