ties. He left me this house--for my mother's
sake. He insisted that it should be a home at last. A large sum is
provided for its furnishing and upkeep--I'm a trustee! The most
beautiful thing, perhaps, was the thought expressed in these words of
his, 'I want you to do your mother's work and mine, while still
following your own rightful desires. Make this house a place of welcome,
peace, and friendliness!' I mean to do my best, Con."

"And he's left me"--Brace found relief in the one touch of humour that
presented itself--"he's left me a thousand dollars as a token of his
appreciation of my loyalty to you, when you most needed it."

But Truedale hardly heeded. His eyes were fixed upon the empty chair
and, since he had not understood in the past, he could not express
himself now. He was suffering the torture that all feel when, too late,
revealment makes clear what never should have been hidden.

"And then"--Lynda's low, even voice went on--"he sent me away and Thomas
put him to bed. He asked for some medicine that it seems he always had
in case of need; he took too much--and--"

"So it was suicide!" Truedale broke in desperately. "I feared that. Good
God!" The tragedy and loneliness clutched his imagination--he seemed to
see it all, it was unbearable!

"Con!" Lynda laid her firm hand upon his arm, "I have learned to call it
something else. It has helped me; perhaps it will help you. He had
waited wearily on this side of the door of release; he--he told me that
he was going on a long journey he had often contemplated--I did not
understand then! I fancy the--the journey was very short. There was no
suffering. I wish you could have seen the peace and majesty of his face!
He could wait no longer. Nothing mattered here, and all that he yearned
for called loudly to him. He simply opened the door himself--and went
out!"

Truedale clasped the hand upon his arm. "Thank you, Lynda. I did not
realize how kind you could be," was all he said.

The logs fell apart and filled the room with a rich glow. Brace shook
the ashes from his pipe upon the hearth--he felt now that he could trust
himself.

"For the future," Lynda's calm voice almost startled the two men by its
practicability and purpose, "this is home--in the truest, biggest sense.
No one shall even enter here and feel--friendless. This is my trust; it
shall be as _he_ wished it, and I mean to have my own life, too! Why,
the house is big enough for us all to live our liv