Nothing comforting had been there. The pale boy he once
had been taunted him with memories of lowered ideals, unfilled promise
and purpose. He had travelled a long distance from the Far Hill Place,
and he was going back to fight it out--somehow, somewhere. He would
stop at Master Farwell's and then take the night steamer for the old
battle-ground. And just at that moment, in the open space, he saw the
strange sight that stopped his breath and heart for an instant.
Of course his wornout senses were being tricked. He had known of such
cases, and was now thoroughly alarmed. Like a man in delirium, he walked
into the open and confronted the fascinated gaze of the girl for whom he
had been searching for weeks.
"How came--you here?" he asked in a voice from which normal emotions were
eliminated.
"And--you?" she echoed.
They came a step nearer, their hands outstretched in a poor, blind
groping for solution and reality.
"Why--I am--I meant to tell you--some day. I am Priscilla Glenn--not
Glynn--Priscilla Glenn of--Lonely Farm."
"My God!" Travers came a step nearer, his face set and grim.
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