Mrs. Weyl returned to Yavapai and with her coming Ann found another outlet for the trouble that she fought vainly to repress. To Bayard she had given the fullest detail of her confidence; through Nora she had found a method of forgetting for short successions of hours. But Bayard was a man, and between them was the peculiar barrier which his love had erected; Nora was not the type to which Ann would go for comfort and there, anyhow, was again a dividing circumstance which could not wholly be overcome. It was the emotional receptiveness of an understanding woman that Ann Lytton needed; she wanted to be mothered, to be pitied, to be assured in the terms of her kind and all that she found in the clergyman's wife.
"Why, the poor child!" that good woman had cried when, on her arrival home, her husband had told her of Ann's presence. "And you say her brother has disappeared?"
"From Yavapai, yes; I suspect, though, that Bruce Bayard knows something of where he is and I guess the girl could find him. Something peculiar about it, though. Bruce is worried. And I think he's quite desperately in love."
Forthwith, his wife dropped all other duties and went to Ann. In fifteen minutes the novelty of acquaintance had worn off and in an hour Ann was crying in the motherly arms, while she poured her whole wretched story into the sympathetic ears; that is, all of the story up to the day when Bruce Bayard told her why she must not help him nurse Ned Lytton back to physical and moral health.
To the accompaniment of many there-there's and dear-child's and caresses Ann's outburst of grief spent itself and the distress that had reflected on the countenance of the older woman gave way to an expression of sweet understanding.
"And because of everything, we--Mr. Bayard and I--had thought it best to let people go on thinking that I am ... Ned's sister.... You see, it might be embarrassing to have them talk."
Her look wavered and the face of Mrs. Weyl showed a sudden comprehension. For a breath she sat gazing at the profile of the girl beside her. Then she leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek and said,
That meeting led to daily visits and soon Bruce and Ann were invited to eat their evening meal at the Weyls'. It was a peculiar event, with the self-consciousness of Ann and the rancher putting an effective damper on the conversation. Afterward, when the men sat outside in the twilight, Bruce smoking a cigarette and the minister drawing temperately on an aged cob pipe, the cowman broke a lengthy silence with: