know next to nothing."

"I guess that would be the case, anyhow. If you set out to find a wife
for me, where is there a woman that you actually do know more about?
As for my going here and there, to get acquainted, it's out of the
question. All my feelings rise up against such a course. Now, I feel
sorry for this woman. She has at least my sympathy. If she is as
friendless, poor, and unhappy as she seems, I might do her as great a
kindness as she would do for me if she could take care of my home. I
wouldn't expect very much. It would be a comfort just to have someone
in the house that wouldn't rob or waste, and who, knowing what her
station was, would be content. Of course I'd have to talk it over with
her and make my purpose clear. She might agree with you that it's too
queer to be thought of. If so, that would be the end of it."

"Will, Jim, you always finish by half talking me over to your side of a
question. Now, if my wife was home, I don't believe she'd listen to
any such plan."

"No, I suppose she wouldn't. She'd believe in people marrying and
doing everything in the ordinary way. But neither I nor this woman is
in ordinary circumstances. Do you know of a justice?"

"Yes, and you know him, too; Justice Harkins."

"Why, certainly. He came from our town and I knew him when he was a
boy, although I haven't seen much of him of late years."

"Well, shall I go and say to this woman--Alida Armstrong is her name
now, I suppose--that you wish to see her again?"

"Yes, I shall tell her the truth. Then she can decide."

Chapter XVIII.

Holcroft Gives His Hand

Alida was seated by a window with some of the mending in which she
assisted, and, as usual, was apart by herself. Watterly entered the
large apartment quietly, and at first she did not observe him. He had
time to note that she was greatly dejected, and when she saw him she
hastily wiped tears from her eyes.

"You are a good deal cast down, Alida," he said, watching her closely.

"I've reason to be. I don't see any light ahead at all."

"Well, you know the old saying, 'It's darkest before day.' I want you
to come with me again. I think I've found a chance for you."

She rose with alacrity and followed. As soon as they were alone, he
turned and looked her squarely in the face as he said gravely, "You
have good common sense, haven't you?"

"I don't know, sir," she faltered, perplexed and troubled by the
question.

"Well, you c