forgotten herself, her suffering. She was struggling to save
something more precious than her love; she was holding to her faith in
Truedale.

"Good God! yes. It was the one thing I wanted--the one thing I planned.
In my madness it did not seem to matter much except as a safeguard for
her--but I had no other thought or intention. We meant to go to a
minister as soon as the storm released us. Then came the telegram about
Uncle William, and the minister was killed during the storm. Lynda, I
wanted to bring Nella-Rose to you just as she was, but she would not
come. I left my address and told her to send for me if she needed me--I
meant to return as soon as I could, anyway. I would have left anything
for her. She never sent for me--and the very day I left--she--"

"What, Con? I must know all."

"Lynda, before God I believe something drove the child to it; you must
not--you shall not judge her. But she went, the very night I left, to a
man--a man of the hills--who had loved her all his life. He was in
danger; he escaped, taking her with him!"

"I--I do _not_ believe it!" The words rang out sharply, defiantly.
Woman was in arms for woman. The loyalty that few men admit confronted
Truedale now. It seemed to glorify the darkness about him. He had no
further fear for Nella-Rose and he bowed his head before Lynda's blazing
eyes.

"God bless you!" he whispered, "but oh! Lyn, I went back to make sure. I
had the truth from her own father. And with all--she stands to this day,
in my memory, guiltless of the monstrous wrong she seemed to commit; and
so she will always stand.

"Since then, Lynda, I have lived a new piece of life; the past lies back
there and it is dead, dead. I would not have told you this but for one
great and tremendous thing. You will not understand this; no woman
could. A man could, but not a woman.

"As I once loved--in another way--that child of the hills, I love you,
the one woman of my manhood's clearer vision. Because of that love--I
had to speak."

Truedale looked up and met the eyes that searched his soul.

"I believe you," Lynda faltered. "I do not understand, but I believe
you. Go away now, Con, I want to think."

He rose at once and bent over her. "God bless you, Lyn," was all he
said.

CHAPTER XV

Two days, then three passed. Lynda tried to send for Truedale--tried to
believe that she saw clearly at last, but having decided that she was
ready she was again lost in doubt and plung