slipped her two hands under her head,
letting them lie palm to palm on the sofapillow. The violet eyes looked
past him into space. Her tangled thoughts were in a chaos of disorder.
Even though she had known but a few months and loved not at all the
grim, gray-haired man she had called husband, the sense of wretched
bereavement, the nearness of death, was strong on her. He had been kind
to her in his way, and the inevitable closeness of their relationship,
repugnant as it had been to her, made its claims felt. An hour ago he
had been standing here, the strong and virile ruler over thousands. Now
he lay stiff and cold, all his power shorn from him without a second's
warning. He had kissed her good-by, solicitous for her welfare, and it
had been he that had been in need of care rather than she. Two big
tears hung on her lids and splashed to her cheeks. She began to sob,
and half-turned on the divan, burying her face in her hands.

Ridgway let her weep without interruption for a time, knowing that it
would be a relief to her surcharged heart and overwrought nerves. But
when her sobs began to abate she became aware of his hand resting on
her shoulder. She sat up, wiping her eyes, and turned to him a face
sodden with grief.

"You are good to me," she said simply.

"If my goodness were only less futile! Heaven knows what I would give
to ward off trouble from you. But I can't, nor can I bear it for you."

"But it is a help to know you would if you could. He--I think he wanted
to ward off grief from me, but he could not, either. I was often lonely
and sad, even though he was kind to me. And now he has gone. I wish I
had told him how much I appreciated his goodness to me."

"Yes, we all feel that when we have lost some one we love. It is
natural to wish we had been better to them and showed them how much we
cared. Let me tell you about my mother. I was thirteen when she died.
It was in summer. She had not been well for a long time. The boys were
going fishing that day and she asked me to stay at home. I had set my
heart on going, and I thought it was only a fancy of hers. She did not
insist on my staying, so I went, but felt uncomfortable all day. When I
came back in the evening they told me she was dead. I felt as if some
great icy hand were tightening, on my heart. Somehow I couldn't break
down and cry it out. I went around with a white, set face and gave no
sign. Even at the funeral it was the same. The neighbors called me