Presently he went to
the dormer window and opened it wide. Leaning out he tried to find his
way back to Pine Cone--to the future that was to be free of all these
cramping memories and hurting restrictions--but the trail was too
cluttered; he was lost utterly!
"It is because they do not know," he thought. "After to-morrow it will
be all right."
Then he reflected that the three thousand dollars Lynda had mentioned
would clear every obstacle from his path and Nella-Rose's. He no longer
need struggle--he could give his time and care to her and his work. He
did not consider the rest of his uncle's estate, it did not matter.
Lynda was provided for and so was he. And then, for the first time in
many days, Truedale speculated upon bringing Nella-Rose away from her
hills. He found himself rather insisting upon it, until he brought
himself to terms by remembering her as he had seen her last--clinging to
her own, vehemently, passionately.
"No, I've made my choice," he finally exclaimed; "the coming back
unsettled me for the moment but her people shall be my people."
Below stairs Lynda was humming softly an old tune--"The Song of
To-morrow," it was called. It caught and held Truedale's imagination. He
tried to recall the lines, but only the theme was clear. It was the
everlasting Song of To-morrow, always the one tune set to changing
ideals.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135