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
result of that labor out of her life. It stung him again to the quick
every time he thought of it. There was something wrong. He felt that a
hundred hands of affection gave him hold on her.
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