and he, well, he came out of his reserve and gruffness,
Con--he let me see the real man he was! I suppose while he had been
alone--for I had neglected him--he had had time to think, to regret his
mistakes; he was very just--even with himself. Con"--and here Lynda had
to pause and get control of herself--"he--he once loved my mother! He
bought this house hoping she would come and, as its mistress, make it
beautiful. When my mother married my father, nothing mattered--nothing
about the house, I mean. Before my mother died she told me--to be kind
to Uncle William. She, in a sacred way, left him to me; me to him. That
was one of the things I told him that last night. I wish I had told him
long ago!" The words were passionate and remorseful. "Oh, it might have
eased his pain and loneliness. When shall we ever learn to say the right
thing when it is most needed? Well, after I had told him he--he grew
very still. It was a long time before he spoke--the joy was sinking in,
I saw that, and it carried the bitterness away. When he did speak he
made me understand that he could not trust himself further on that
subject, but he tried to--to explain about you, Con. Poor man! He
realized that he had made a failure as a guide; but in his own way he
had endeavoured to be a guardian. You know his disease developed just
before you came into his life. Con, he lived all through the years just
for you--just to stand by!"

From out the shadow where he sat, Brace spoke unevenly:

"Too bad you don't--smoke, old man!" It was the only suggestion he had
to offer in the tense silence that gripped them all.

"It's all right!" Truedale said heavily. "Go on when you can, Lynda."

"Do you--remember your father, Con?"

"Yes."

"Well, your uncle feared that too much ease and money might--"

"I--I begin to understand."

"So he went to the other extreme. Every step of your well-fought way was
joy to him--the only joy he knew. From his detachment and loneliness he
planned--almost plotted--for you, but he did not tell you. 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. He left his servants
and employees generous annui