Truedale must decide this thing for
himself! It was, after all, his great opportunity. She could not, with
honour and self-respect, throw herself upon him and so complicate the
misunderstanding. If her life with him since June had not convinced him
of her simple love and faith--her words, now, could not. He must seek
her--must realize everything. And in this decision Lynda left herself so
stranded and desolate that she looked up with wet eyes and saw--William
Truedale's empty chair! A great longing for her old friend rose in her
breast--a longing that not even death had taken from her. The clock
struck the half-hour and Lynda got up and with no faltering went toward
the bedroom door behind which the old man had started forth on his
journey to find peace.
And just as she went, with blinded eyes and aching heart, to shut
herself away from the dreariness of the present, Truedale entered the
house and, from the hall, watched her. He believed that she had heard
him enter, he hoped she was going to turn toward him--but no! she went
straight to the never-used room, shut the door, and--locked it!
Truedale stood rooted to the spot. What he had hoped--what trusted--he
could hardly have told. But manlike he was the true conservative and
with the turning of that key his traditions and established position
crumbled around him.
Lynda and he were married and, unless they decided upon an open break,
they must live their lives.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235