h he was sinking.

"You see," she went on, now taking his hand into hers, "I'd have to tell
Joel. I'm his wife, the mother of his children, and there can be nothing
in my life that is not open to him. He is the soul of honor, John."

"I know it," John answered, simply.

"This thing is killing him, John," she went on, rapidly, as if taking no
heed of what she was saying. "The world was against him, anyway, and the
news of your being here so prosperous and successful by contrast to
himself has bowed his head to the earth. I don't know what to do or what
to say. He knows how I feel. You see, I couldn't hide from him the joy I
felt when I heard you were living. I can bear anything now--anything!
You see, Joel thinks that you--he has no reason for thinking so, of
course, for you have lived up there and he here--but he thinks--it is
stupid of him--but he thinks that you feel--exactly the same toward me
as you did when we were married. Exactly! Exactly!"

"It wouldn't take a wise man to know that," John said, bitterly, his
lips awry, his stare dull with agony.

"You mean to say that you _do_?" Tilly urged, her little hand pressing
his spasmodically, her eyes glistening with moisture.

He nodded slowly. "How could I help it? You have done nothing to alter
my feeling toward you except to deepen it. How can I overlook the fact
that you befriended my mother (after I deserted her) and made her what
she now is?"

"That was nothing but my duty, and my love for her," Tilly answered. She
paused for a moment, and went on:

"Then you don't blame me for _marrying again_?" This was tremulously
uttered, and the speaker's eyes were now downcast.

"No, I expected it. In a way, you owed it to Joel. In fact, I owe him
more now than I can ever repay."

Tilly released his hand and sat down on the log beside him. Her little
feet were thrust out from her, and he saw her poor tattered shoes and
noted the coarse dress she wore.

"I've always wanted to know one thing," she faltered. "A thousand times
after the report of your death I wondered if you died understanding how
it was that I left you. Did you know why I left our little home so
suddenly, John?"

"Why, to escape the awful scandal that was in the air; but what is the
good of bringing that up now?"

"Ah, I see, you didn't quite know the truth," Tilly cried. "John, my
father was practically out of his mind that day. He died not long
afterward of softening of the brain. He had a re