ld set right something in my
mind that has been wrong for forty years. After my death she would have
plenty of freedom and plenty of means to enjoy it.'

Mrs. Isaac Pierston seemed only a little surprised; certainly not
shocked.

'Well, if I didn't think you might be a bit taken with her!' she
said with an arch simplicity which could hardly be called unaffected.
'Knowing the set of your mind, from my little time with you years ago,
nothing you could do in this way would astonish me.'

'But you don't think badly of me for it?'

'Not at all.... By-the-bye, did you ever guess why I asked you to
come?... But never mind it now: the matter is past.... Of course, it
would depend upon what Avice felt.... Perhaps she would rather marry a
younger man.'

'And suppose a satisfactory younger man should not appear?'

Mrs. Pierston showed in her face that she fully recognized the
difference between a rich bird in hand and a young bird in the bush. She
looked him curiously up and down.

'I know you would make anybody a very nice husband,' she said. 'I know
that you would be nicer than many men half your age; and, though there
is a great deal of difference between you and her, there have been more
unequal marriages, that's true. Speaking as her mother, I can say that
I shouldn't object to you, sir, for her, provided she liked you. That is
where the difficulty will lie.'

'I wish you would help me to get over that difficulty,' he said gently.
'Remember, I brought back a truant husband to you twenty years ago.'

'Yes, you did,' she assented; 'and, though I may say no great things as
to happiness came of it, I've always seen that your intentions towards
me were none the less noble on that account. I would do for you what I
would do for no other man, and there is one reason in particular which
inclines me to help you with Avice--that I should feel absolutely
certain I was helping her to a kind husband.'

'Well, that would remain to be seen. I would, at any rate, try to be
worthy of your opinion. Come, Avice, for old times' sake, you must help
me. You never felt anything but friendship in those days, you know, and
that makes it easy and proper for you to do me a good turn now.'

After a little more conversation his old friend promised that she really
would do everything that lay in her power. She did not say how simple
she thought him not to perceive that she had already, by writing to him,
been doing everything that lay in her