ion. And poor Grace!--it was much worse for her. I thought with
Phil that she might never survive the shock and misery of it all. But
she did, and came out, weak and broken down as she was, to give her
testimony at Phil's trial. We had no trouble in getting a jury to acquit
him, and he went back to Colorado without bidding Grace good-by,
although she would have seen him and was even anxious to do so. Some
persons here, mostly women, pretended to think that there had been more
cause for Herbert's jealousy than was generally supposed; but they
belonged to the sanctimonious, hypocritical custom-worshippers. All
really good people remembered what Herbert had been, and refused to see
in him a martyr or even a wronged man.

"After that Grace supported herself by dress-making and teaching music;
and some two years ago, when we heard that Phil had been killed by a
mine's caving in, and that he had left a little fortune to her and
Nannie, I, as his executor and her friend, induced her to take and use
it,--which she did, with simplicity and thankfulness and with her heart
full of pity and love for poor Phil. Yes, poor Phil! those five or six
years must have been full of misery to him, and he was probably thankful
when the end came. We never heard from him until after his death. There
was a letter that came to me with the will, that had been written long
before. None but they two know what was in it; and I, for one, do not
want to inquire."

George sat for a long while in silence, looking at the glowing coals in
the huge reservoir stove. Neither Perry nor I cared to interrupt his
revery. At last he roused himself.

"Well, boys," he said, "it is late: I think we had better go. It is all
over now, and life has gone on calmly for years. Other people have
forgotten that there ever were such persons as Phil or Herbert."

When Perry and I reached our room we found it was almost three o'clock.
George had walked with us to the door, and very little had been said
between us. I took a cigarette and lay down on the bed. "Perry," I said,
as he was lighting the gas.

"Sur to you," he answered, in a way he had of imitating a certain
barkeeper of our acquaintance.

"What do you think of George?"

"You know what I think of him as well as I do."

"Yes; but I mean in connection with this that he has told us."

"I think he acted just like himself all the way through."

"Don't you think he has been in love with Mrs. Herbert from the first?