visit. It was the shadow of vague wonderment in the
widow's eyes, and her lagging talk, that compelled him to introduce it.
He first spoke, and rather adroitly, of Todd Williams's encounter in New
York with the man who resembled her son, and, pausing, he heard her
sigh.

"Poor boy! poor boy!" she muttered, sadly. "And they said he and Dora
were on the way to New York when that awful thing happened. Mr.
Cavanaugh, you are a good man. You've always been considered a good man
by everybody that knows you. I understand that you never had any
children, but you may know the human heart well enough to know that no
regret ever heard of can be deeper than that which is brought on by the
sort of thing that happened to me. I don't talk this way to Tilly and
Joel, because I owe them too much to let them dream that I am not
thoroughly happy. But if I could live a thousand years I'd never be able
to rid my mind of the positive knowledge that by--by--I _will_ say
it--I'll say it to you as I'd say it to a priest, if I was a Catholic.
I've often wished I was one, so that I could let what I feel out of me.
Maybe saying it like this to you will do a little good. I don't know,
but I will say that nothing on earth can rid my mind of the fact that
by my thoughtless way of acting when I was young I-- I--"

"Stop! I know what you mean, my poor friend," Cavanaugh broke in, "and
you are getting all wrought up. Listen to me. Why not look on the
hopeful side, the bright side? How do you know but that John and Dora
are still alive, and none the worse; in fact--"

He suddenly checked himself, for a sickly, greenish pallor had
overspread the listener's face, and she leaned forward as if about to
swoon. In a moment, however, she had recovered herself, and, sitting
erect, her white, shapely hands pressed to her breast, she smiled
feebly.

"Oh, I know what you mean, Mr. Cavanaugh. I did try that. I summed up
every hope, everything that held out the slightest promise. I used to
lie awake at night and declare over and over that it couldn't be--that
the laws of life wouldn't let such an unjust thing happen to them,
innocent as they were, and with their right to live, but it didn't do
any good. I didn't let anybody know about it, but one after another I
got three different papers with John's name in them. I went to Atlanta
and visited the editors of all the papers and asked their advice. They
were sorry, but they said the list had never been disputed and