I could get
on--I did--I have. I can go on through alone the rest of the way, and
it's right that I should. That's what I'm going to do!"

She saw the great hand clutch the more tightly on two picket tops. They
broke under the closing grip of his great hand.

"That's right hard," said he simply. "We can't be married now? But--tell
me, can't I help you?"

"Oh, no, no, don't--don't talk of that!" she said. She was weeping now.
"Don't try to help me," she sobbed bitterly. "You can't help me--nobody
can help me--there's no help in the world--not even God can help me!
You've been cruel--all the world has been nothing but cruel to me all my
life. I've nothing to hope--there's nothing that can help me, nothing.
I'm one of the lost, that's all. Until today, I'd hoped. I never will
hope again."

Now she felt the great hand closing once more on top of hers above the
broken pickets.

"Listen, Aurora," said he, "if it doesn't seem that you and I can be
married, there's nothing in the world which makes it wrong for me to
help you all I can--you mustn't think I didn't love you. You don't think
that, do you?"

"I don't know what I think!" said she, rubbing at the ceaseless tears,
so new to her. "All these matters have been out of my life--forever, as
I thought. But sometimes--I've been so lonesome, you know, and so
helpless--I'm tempted. It's hard for a woman to live all alone--it's
almost a thing impossible--she's so lonesome--sometimes I almost think I
could depend on you, even now."

"That's fine!" said he, choking up; "that's fine. I expect that's about
all I had coming to me after all. So I oughtn't to be sorry--I ought to
be very happy. That's about the finest thing I ever heard in all my
life."

"And about the sweetest words I ever heard in all my life were what you
said just now--after knowing all you do about me."

"But you won't tell me that you'll marry me now?" He bent and picked up
her hand in both his great ones. "I know you will not." He kissed her
hand reverently.

"Good night," said he gently. And presently she was sensible that his
shambling figure was passing away down the street under the checkered
shadows of the maples.

Aurora Lane stood yet for just a moment, how long she did not know.
There came to her ear the sound of running footsteps. Her boy came down
the street, passing Horace Brooks with a wave of his hand. He reached
her side now as she still stood at the gate. He was panting, perspiring