Why ca n't I stop thinking of those Four Winds people ? Here , let me put these haunting thoughts into words and see if that will lay them . That girl had a beautiful face but a cold one . Would I like to see it lighted up with the warmth of her soul set free ? Yes , frankly , I would . She looked upon me with indifference . Would I like to see her welcome me as a friend ? I have a conviction that I would , although no doubt everybody in my congregation would look upon her as a most unsuitable friend for me . Do I believe that she is wild , unwomanly , heathenish , as Mrs. Danby says ? No , I do not , most emphatically . I believe she is a lady in the truest sense of that much abused word , though she is doubtless unconventional . Having said all this , I do not see what more there is to be said . And -- I -- am -- going -- to -- write -- this -- sermon . Alan wrote it , putting all thought of Lynde Oliver sternly out of his mind for the time being . He had no notion of falling in love with her . He knew nothing of love and imagined that it counted for nothing in his life . He admitted that his curiosity was aflame about the girl , but it never occurred to him that she meant or could mean anything to him but an attractive enigma which once solved would lose its attraction . The young women he knew in Rexton , whose simple , pleasant friendship he valued , had the placid , domestic charm of their own sweet-breathed , windless orchards . Lynde Oliver had the fascination of the lake shore -- wild , remote , untamed -- the lure of the wilderness and the primitive . There was nothing more personal in his thought of her , and yet when he recalled Isabel King 's sneer he felt an almost personal resentment .
* * * * * During the following fortnight Alan made many trips XXXXX the shore -- and he always went by the branch road to the Four Winds point .
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