"Please don't speak so to me today. I've endured all I can. I can't keep up another minute unless you let things go on as they were.

Tomorrow I'll try to tell you all. It's your right."

"I didn't mean to say anything myself till after supper, and perhaps not till tomorrow, but I think I'd better. It will be better for us both, and our minds will be more at rest. Come with me into the parlor, Alida."

"Well, perhaps the sooner it's over the better," she said faintly and huskily.

She sunk on the lounge and looked at him with such despairing eyes that tears came into his own.

"Alida," he began hesitatingly, "after I left you this noon I felt I must speak with and be frank with you."

"No, no!!" she cried, with an imploring gesture, "if it must be said, let me say it. I couldn't endure to hear it from you. Before you went away I understood it all, and this afternoon the truth has been burned into my soul. That horrible man has been here--the man I thought my husband--and he has made it clearer, if possible. I don't blame you that you shrink from me as if I were a leper. I feel as if I were one."

"I shrink from YOU!" he exclaimed.

"Yes. Can you think I haven't seen the repugnance growing in spite of yourself? When I thought of that man--especially when he came today--I understood WHY too well. I cannot stay here any longer. You'd try to be kind and considerate, but I'd know how you felt all the time. It would not be safe for you and it would not be right for me to stay, either, and that settles it. Be--be as kind to me--as you can a few--a few hours longer, and then let me go quietly." Her self-control gave way, and burying her face in her hands, she sobbed convulsively.

In a moment he was on his knees beside her, with his arm about her waist. "Alida, dear Alida!" he cried, "we've both been in the dark about each other. What I resolved to do, when I started for town, was to tell you that I had learned to love you and to throw myself on your mercy. I thought you saw I was loving you and that you couldn't bear to think of such a thing in an old, homely fellow like me. That was all that was in my mind, so help me G.o.d!"

"But--but HE'S been here," she faltered; "you don't realize--"

"I don't believe I do or can, yet, Alida, dear, but that blessed Jane's spying trait has served me the best turn in the world. She heard every brave word you said and I shed tears of joy when she told me; and tears are slow coming to my eyes. You think I shrink from you, do you?" and he kissed her hands pa.s.sionately. "See," he cried, "I kneel to you in grat.i.tude for all you've been to me and are to me."

"Oh, James! Please rise. It's too much."

"No, not till you promise to go with me to a minister and hear me promise to love, cherish--yes, in your case I'll promise to obey."

She bowed her head upon his shoulder in answer. Springing up, he clasped her close and kissed away her tears as he exclaimed, "No more business marriage for me, if you please. There never was a man so in love with his wife."

Suddenly she looked up and said fearfully, "James, he threatened you.

He said you'd never be safe a moment as long as I stayed here."

His answer was a peal of laughter. "I've done more than threaten him.

I've whipped him within an inch of his life, and it was the thought of you that led me, in my rage, to spare his life. I'll tell you all--I'm going to tell you everything now. How much trouble I might have saved if I had told you my thoughts! What was there, Alida, in an old fellow like me that led you to care so?"

Looking up shyly, she replied, "I think it was the MAN in you--and--then you stood up for me so."

"Well, love is blind, I suppose, but it don't seem to me that mine is.

There never was a man so taken in at his marriage. You were so different from what I expected that I began loving you before I knew it, but I thought you were good to me just as you were to Jane--from a sense of duty--and that you couldn't abide me personally. So I tried to keep out of your way. And, Alida, dear, I thought at first that I was taken by your good traits and your education and all that, but I found out at last that I had fallen in love with YOU. Now you know all. You feel better now, don't you?"

"Yes," she breathed softly.

"You've had enough to wear a saint out," he continued kindly. "Lie down on the lounge and I'll bring your supper to you."

"No, please! It will do me more good to go on and act as if nothing had happened."

"Well, have your own way, little wife. You're boss now, sure enough."

She drew him to the porch, and together they looked upon the June landscape which she had regarded with such despairing eyes an hour before.

"Happiness never kills, after all," she said.

"Shouldn't be alive if it did," he replied. "The birds seem to sing as if they knew."

Jane emerged from the barn door with a basket of eggs, and Alida sped away to meet her. The first thing the child knew the arms of her mistress were about her neck and she was kissed again and again.

"What did you do that for?" she asked.

"You'll understand some day."

"Say," said Jane in an impulse of good will, "if you're only half married to Mr. Holcroft, I'd go the whole figure, 'fi's you. If you'd 'a' seen him a-thrashin' that scamp you'd know he's the man to take care of you."

"Yes, Jane, I know. He'll take care of me always."

The next morning Holcroft and Alida drove to town and went to the church which she and her mother used to attend. After the service they followed the clergyman home, where Alida again told him her story, though not without much help from the farmer. After some kindly reproach that she had not brought her troubles to him at first, the minister performed a ceremony which found deep echoes in both their hearts.

Time and right, sensible living soon remove prejudice from the hearts of the good and stop the mouths of the cynical and scandal-loving.

Alida's influence, and the farmer's broadening and more unselfish views gradually bought him into a better understanding of his faith, and into a kinder sympathy and charity for his neighbors than he had ever known.

His relations to the society of which he was a part became natural and friendly, and his house a pretty and a hospitable home. Even Mrs.

Watterly eventually entered its portals. She and others were compelled to agree with Watterly that Alida was not of the "common sort," and that the happiest good fortune which could befall any man had come to Holcroft when he fell in love with his wife.