the father of the boy was. Then why should
she connect me with this?"

"The same reason, Judge--because she was a woman!

"And when you come to that," he added as he turned toward the door,
"that covers our whole talk today. That's why I got you to come here.
That's why I'm interested in this case. That's why I've made you try
this case yourself, here, now, Judge, before the court of your own
conscience. A crime worse than murder has been done here in this town to
Aurora Lane--because she was a woman! She's borne the brunt of it--paid
all her debts--carried all her awful, unspeakable, unbelievable
load--because she was a woman!

"And," he concluded, "if you ask me why I was specially interested in
the boy's case and yours and hers--I'll tell you. I gave up--to you--all
my hope of success and honor and preferment just so as to help her all I
could; to stand between her and the world all I could; to help her and
her boy all I could. It was because she was a woman--the very best I
ever knew."

CHAPTER XXII

MISS JULIA

It was now ten o'clock of this eventful morning in quiet old Spring
Valley. A hush seemed to have fallen on all the town. The streets were
well-nigh deserted so far as one might see from the public square. Only
one figure seemed animated by a definite purpose.

Miss Julia Delafield came rapidly as she might across the street from
the foot of the stair that led up to Judge Henderson's office. She had
hobbled up the stair and hobbled down again, and now was crossing the
street that led to the courthouse. She came through the little turnstile
and tap-tapped her way up the wide brick walk. Her face, turned up
eagerly, was flushed, full of great emotions.

Miss Julia was clad in her best finery. She had on a bright new
hat--which she had had over from Aurora's shop but recently. She had
worn it at the great event of Don Lane's homecoming--worn it to make
tribute to her "son." She wore it now in search of that son's
father--and she had not the slightest idea in the world who that father
in fact might be. Miss Julia's divination was only such stuff as dreams
are made on. The father of Don, the unborn father of her unborn
beloved--was not yet caught out of chaos, not yet resolved out of
time--he was but a creature of her dreams.

So Miss Julia walked haltingly through star dust. It whirled all about
her as she crossed the dirty street. Around her spun all the nebulae of
life yet to be. Somewhere