was allayed, might not her life on the farm seem
monotonous and dull, might not weariness and discontent come into her
eyes in place of gratitude? "Well, well!" he concluded, "this marrying
is a risky experiment at best, but Tom Watterly's talk and her manner
seemed to shut me up to it. I was made to feel that I couldn't go on
in any other way; and I haven't done anything underhanded or wrong, as
I see, for the chance of going on. If I hadn't become such a heathen I
should say there was a Providence in it, but I don't know what to think
about such things any more. Time'll show, and the prospect is better
than it has been yet. She'll never be sorry if she carries out the
agreement made today, if kindness and good will can repay her."

Thus it may be seen that, although two life currents had become
parallel, they were still very distinct.

By the time Holcroft approached the lane leading to his dwelling, Alida
was growing very weary, and felt that her endurance had almost reached
its limit. Her face was so white in the moonlight that he asked
solicitously, "You can stand it a little longer, can't you?"

"I'll try. I'm very sorry I'm not stronger."

"Don't you worry about that! You won't know yourself in a week. Here
we are at the lane and there's the house yonder. A moment or two more
and you'll be by the fire."

A loud barking startled old Jonathan Johnson out of his doze, and he
hastened to replenish the fire and to call off his rather savage dog.
He was a little surprised to see Holcroft drive toward the kitchen door
with a woman by his side. "He's tried his luck with another of them
town gals," he muttered, "but, Jerusalem! She won't stay a week, an'
my old woman'll have the washin' an' mendin' all the same."

He could scarcely believe his ears and eyes when he heard the farmer
say, "Alida, you must let me lift you out," and then saw the "town gal"
set gently on the ground, her hand placed on Holcroft's arm as she was
supported slowly and carefully to the rocking chair beside the fire.
"Jonathan," was the quiet announcement, "this is Mrs. Holcroft, my
wife."

"Jeru--beg a pardon. Wasn't 'spectin; jis' sich a turn o' things.
Respects, missus! Sorry to see yer enj'yin' poor health."

"Yes, Jonathan, Mrs. Holcroft has been sick, but she's much better and
will soon be well. She's very tired now from the long drive, but quiet
life and country air will soon make her strong. I'll just step out and
care