mind was a whirl; the thoughts became blurs. As a matter of fact, Terry
was being reborn.

He had lived a life perfectly sheltered. The care of Elizabeth Cornish
had surrounded him as the Blue Mountains and Sleep Mountain surrounded
Bear Valley and fenced off the full power of the storm winds. The reality
of life had never reached him. Now, all in a day, the burden was placed
on his back, and he felt the spur driven home to the quick. No wonder
that he winced, that his heart contracted.

But now that he was awakening, everything was new. Uncle Vance, whom he
had always secretly despised, now seemed a fine character, gentle,
cultured, thoughtful of others. Aunt Elizabeth Cornish he had accepted as
a sort of natural fact, as though there were a blood tie between them.
Now he was suddenly aware of twenty-four years of patient love. The
sorrow of it, that only the loss of that love should have brought him
realization of it. Vague thoughts and aspirations formed in his mind. He
yearned toward some large and heroic deed which should re-establish
himself in her respect. He wished to find her in need, in great trouble,
free her from some crushing burden with one perilous effort, lay his
homage at her feet.

All of which meant that Terry Hollis was a boy--a bewildered, heart-
stricken boy. Not that he would have undone what he had done. It seemed
to him inevitable that he should resent the story of the sheriff and
shoot him down or be shot down himself. All that he regretted was that he
had remained mute before Aunt Elizabeth, unable to explain to her a thing
which he felt so keenly. And for the first time he realized the flinty
basis of her nature. The same thing that enabled her to give half a
lifetime to the cherishing of a theory, also enabled her to cast all the