Well, he was awake at last, thank God! The only difference between him and a creature such as good men and women abhor was that he meant to retrieve, as far as in him lay, the past error and injustice. All his future life should prove his purpose. And then, like a sweet fragrance or a spirit touch, his love pleaded for him. He had been weak, but not vicious. The unfettered life had clouded his reason, and his senses had played him false, but love was untarnished--and it _was_ love. That girl of the hills was the same now as she had always been. She would accept him and his people and he would make her life such that, once the homesickness for the hills was past, she would have no regrets. Then another phase held Truedale's thought. In that day when Nella-Rose accepted, in the fullest sense, his people and his people's code--how would he stand in her eyes? A groan escaped him, then another, and he started nervously. "Con, what is it--a bad dream?" Lynda touched his arm to arouse him. "Yes--a mighty bad one!" "Tell it to me. Tell it while it is fresh in your mind. They say once you have put a dream in words, its effect is killed forever." Truedale turned dark, sorrowful eyes upon Lynda. "I--I wish I could tell it," he said with a seriousness that made her laugh, "but it was the kind that eludes--words. The creeping, eating impression--sort of nightmare. Good Lord! how nerves play the deuce with you." Brace Kendall did not speak. From his place he had been watching Truedale, for the firelight had betrayed the truth. Truedale had not been sleeping: Truedale had been terribly upset by that last letter of his! And just then Conning leaned forward and threw his entire mail upon the blazing logs! CHAPTER XI For Truedale to await, calmly, further developments was out of the question. He did, however, force himself to act as sanely as possible. He felt confident that Nella-Rose, safely hidden and probably enjoying it in her own elfish way, would communicate with him in a few days at the latest, now that things had, according to White, somewhat settled into shape after the outlaw Lawson had taken himself off the scene. To get to the station and telegraph would mean quite a feat for Nella-Rose at any time, and winter was in all likelihood already gripping the hills. To write and send a letter might be even more difficult. So Truedale reasoned; so he feverishly waited, but he was not idle. He rented a charming little suite of rooms, high up in a new apartment house, and begged Lynda to set them in order at once. Somehow he believed that in the years ahead, after she understood, Lynda would be glad that he had asked this from her. "But why the hurry, Con?" she naturally questioned; "if people are going to be so spasmodic I'll have to get a partner. It may be all right, looked at financially, but it's the ruination of art." "But this is a special case, Lyn." "They're all special cases." "But this is a--welcome." "For whom?"