“I think—­I know,” she whispered, “that women consider the effect of such—­things, Con.  Had the experience been low, it would have left its mark; as it is I am sure—­well, it has not darkened your vision.”

“No, Lyn, no!”

“And lately, I have been thinking of her, Con—­that little Nella-Rose.”

“You—­have?  You could, Lyn?”

“Yes.  At first I couldn’t possibly comprehend—­I do not now, really, but I find myself believing, in spite of my inability to understand, that the experience has cast such a light upon her way, poor child, that—­off in some rude mountain home—­she has a little fairer space than some.  Con, knowing you, I believe you could not have—­lowered her.  She went back to her natural love—­it must have been a strong call—­but I shall never believe her depraved.”

“Lyn,” Truedale’s voice was husky, “once you made me reconciled to my uncle’s death—­it was the way you put it—­and now you have made me dare to be—­happy.”

“Men never grow up!” Lynda pressed her face to his shoulder, “they make a bluff at caring for us and defending us and all the rest—­but we understand, we understand!  I think women mother men always even when they rely upon them most, as I do upon you!  It’s so splendid to think, when we go home, of the great things we are going to do—­together.”

A letter from Brace, eventually, made them turn their faces homeward.  It was late July then.

     LYN, DEAR: 

When you can conveniently give me a thought, do.  And when are you coming back?  I hope I shall not shock you unduly—­but it’s that little sister of the Morrells that is the matter, Elizabeth Arnold—­Betty we call her.  I’ve got to marry her as soon as I can.  I’ll never be able to do any serious business again until I get her behind the coffee-urn.  She haunts me day and night and then when I see her—­she laughs at me!  We’ve been over to look at that church where you and Con were married.  Betty likes it, but prefers her own folk to stray old women and lost kids.  We think September would be a jolly month to be married in, but Betty refuses to set a day until she finds out if she approves of my people!  That’s the way she puts it.  She says she wants to find out if you believe in women’s voting, for if you don’t, she knows she never could get on with you.  She believes that the thing that makes women opposed, does other things to them—­rather unpleasant, unfriendly things.

     I told her your sentiments and then she asked about Con.  She says
     she wouldn’t trust the freest woman in the East if she were married
     to a slave-believing man.

     By all this you will judge what a comical little cuss Betty is,
     but all the same I am quite serious in urging you to come home
     before I grow desperate.

     BRACE.

Truedale looked at Lynda in blank amazement.  “I’d forgotten about the sister,” he said, inanely.