Weston made no reply to his daughter’s words, but remained silent for some time as he stood with Sconda in the wheel-house.  A worried expression appeared in his eyes, and his brow often knit in perplexity.  He was keenly searching his own heart and mind such as he had not done in years.  It was the first time that Glen had spoken to him so candidly about leaving the north, and he realised that she meant what she said.

There was a large bag of mail waiting for them, at the trading-post, and among the letters Glen found several from a number of her girl friends of the Seminary.  As she read these on her way back upstream, she became more discontented than ever.  They all told of the good times the girls were having in their various homes during their holidays, of parties, auto rides, and the numerous incidents which mean so much to the young.  Glen laid each letter aside with a sigh.  It was the life for which she longed, and what could she write in return?  There was only one event which deeply interested her, and of that she could not speak.

She was tired when she reached home, and after supper went at once to her own room.  She took with her a number of books, magazines, and newspapers, and although the latter were several weeks old, she eagerly read the doings of the outside world, especially items of news about persons she knew.  She was lying upon a comfortable couch as she read, near the window fronting the lake.  The light from the shaded lamp on the little table at her head threw its soft beams upon the printed page, and brought into clear relief the outlines of her somewhat tired face.  It was a face suddenly developed from girlhood into womanhood, as the bud blossoms into the beautiful flower.  Glen’s heart cried out for companionship, and the bright sunshine of happy young lives surrounding her.

Throughout the day her thoughts had been much upon him who had recently come into her life.  The sight of him standing upon the shore that morning had thrilled her, and she longed to give him a word of encouragement.  So lying there this evening, with her paper at length thrown aside, she wondered what he was doing, and how he was enduring his captivity.  Surely her father would not submit him to the Ordeal after what she had told him about her love.  She tried to think of something that she could do, but the more she thought the more helpless she seemed to be.

At last she arose and went downstairs.  She heard voices in her father’s room, but who was with him she could not tell, as the door was almost closed.  Going at once to the piano, she struck the few notes which brought Reynolds to her side.  His unexpected presence startled her, and by the time she was on her feet, he had her hand in his and his strong arms around her.  Not a word was said for a few seconds as he held her close.  A great happiness such as she had never known before swept upon her.  He loved her!  That was the one idea which surged through her wildly-beating heart.  Time was obliterated, fears and doubts vanished, and with him whom she loved holding her in his arms, it seemed as if heaven had suddenly opened.  Her face was upturned to his, and in an instant Reynolds bent and imprinted a fervent kiss upon her slightly parted lips.