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Helen was not embarrassed or agitated, but something about Lane or the situation apparently made her slow or stiff. "Daren, you of course you remember Hardy Mackay and Dick Swann," she said. Lane turned to greet one-time schoolmates and rivals of his. Mackay was tall, homely, with a face that lacked force, light blue eyes and thick sandy hair, brushed high.
Daren, come back." In his heart he did not deny that cry of hers. He knew he would come back, knew it with stinging shame, but he could not tell her. It had all turned out so differently from what he had dreamed. If he had not loved her he would not have felt defeat. To have made her his wife would have been to protect her, to possess her even after he was dead. At the last she let him go.
Once more the driver headed his humming car into the white storm. Once more Lane sat silent, with his heart raging. Once more Mel peered out into the white turmoil of gloom. "Daren, we're going to Dr. Wallace, my old minister. He'll marry us," she said, presently. "Why didn't I think of him?" "I did," answered Mel, in a low voice. "I know he would marry us.
Daren Lane, I'm very happy to meet some one from 'over there," she said, with the ease and self-possession of a woman of the world. But when she smiled a beautiful, wonderful light seemed to shine from eyes and face and lips a smile of youth. Helen introduced her companion as Roy Vancey.
"Yes, my son. But that was nearly three years ago. And the children have sprung up like weeds. Wild weeds!" "Well! That tousle-headed Wilson kid!" mused Lane. An uneasy conviction of having been forgotten dawned upon Lane. He remembered Blair Maynard's bitter prophecy, which he had been unable to accept. "Anyway, Daren, are you able to work?" asked his mother.
After the sear and lifeless color of the fields and forests, what a welcome relief to Daren Lane were the freshened green, the dawning red, the tinging gold! The forest on the hill was soft and warm, and but for the gleams of autumn, would have showed some of the tenderness of spring. Down in the lowlands a sea of color waved under a blue, smoky, melancholy haze.
But mother told me Daren had lost his standing in Middleville. She always hated Daren. Afraid I'd fall in love with him. The idea! I liked him, and I like him better now poor fellow!... And last, when El mentioned Daren, did you see Dal's face? I never saw Dal look like that." "Neither did I," replied Elinor. "Well, I have," spoke up Helen, with all of her mother's bluntness.
"Who told you of that?" he asked in surprise. "Dal. She was here yesterday. She will come in spite of me." "So will I," interposed Lane. She shook her head. "No, it's different for a man.... I've missed the girls. No one but Dal ever comes. I thought Margie would be true to me no matter what had befallen.... Dal comes, and oh, Daren, she is good.
We'll meet here, afternoons, and evenings when mother's out. She's nutty on bridge. She makes me promise I won't leave the yard. So I'll not have to lie to meet you.... Daren, that day at Helen's, the minute I saw you I knew you were going to have something to do with my future." "Bessy, a little while ago I made sure you had no romance in you," replied Lane, with a smile.
Daren, don't, I beg of you don't talk to me this way," she besought him. "Mel, it's a difference of opinion that makes arguments, wars and other things," he said, with a cruelty in strange antithesis to the pity and tenderness he likewise felt. He could hurt her. He had power over her. What a pang shot through his heart!
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