he cannot reach! Oh! brother, when one is
lonely and old and not over strong, it is so easy to get at the heart
of a thing for them one loves."

Matilda was crying gently into her dainty little handkerchief, and
Markham stared at her, speechless and helpless.

"There! there! 'Tilda," was all he could think to say, but his tone was
loving beyond description.

"She's the girl whose face haunted that picture of the dogwood flowers,
brother. She's the girl he wrote to just once, you remember, that time
when we stopped in New York on our way from here to Bretherton. I
guess she's called and called to him from these hills ever since he
left, and now----"

"Well, 'Tilda?"

"She's gone away and the call is--stilled."

Markham sat down again before the fire and buried his head in his
hands. Quietly the old brother and sister sat for a full half hour,
then Levi got up.

"Good-night, sister," he said.

"Good-night, brother."

That was all. They knew that they were unable to reach the hurt that
Sandy had received.

CHAPTER XXV

But Matilda Markham could not sit down under her weight of conviction
in protracted silence. The winter at last gripped The Hollow, and
doors and windows were closed against the cold and storm. Markham,
Martin, and Sandy were always away together much of the day, but
Matilda sat by her fire, chatted a little with Sally, revelled in
Marcia Lowe's frequent calls, and managed to weave a tender story from
all she heard. She knitted her endless rainbow scarfs and gave them to
the mountain women who received them in stolid amazement and doted upon
them in secret. Once Matilda did a very daring and tremendous thing.
She wrote to Olive Treadwell and asked some pointed and vital questions
about Lansing's wife!

Having sent the letter away impulsively, the poor little lady had a
week of real torture. Daily she walked to the post-office, when no one
was watching, and caused Tod Greeley much amusement by her nervous
anxiety.

"Meaning no offence," he confided to Marcia Lowe, "and respecting her
age and gray hairs, I reckon the old miss is in love. It comes late to
some folks," he sighed pathetically, "and it comes right hard when it
strikes past the time limit, but nothing but love takes it out of folks
like what this old miss is suffering."

At last the answer came and Matilda read it with the door of her
bedroom bolted and the washstand barricading it as well.

Olive Treadwell wr