Ridgway let her weep without interruption for a time, knowing that it would be a relief to her surcharged heart and overwrought nerves. But when her sobs began to abate she became aware of his hand resting on her shoulder. She sat up, wiping her eyes, and turned to him a face sodden with grief. “You are good to me,” she said simply. “If my goodness were only less futile! Heaven knows what I would give to ward off trouble from you. But I can’t, nor can I bear it for you.” “But it is a help to know you would if you could. He—I think he wanted to ward off grief from me, but he could not, either. I was often lonely and sad, even though he was kind to me. And now he has gone. I wish I had told him how much I appreciated his goodness to me.” “Yes, we all feel that when we have lost some one we love. It is natural to wish we had been better to them and showed them how much we cared. Let me tell you about my mother. I was thirteen when she died. It was in summer. She had not been well for a long time. The boys were going fishing that day and she asked me to stay at home. I had set my heart on going, and I thought it was only a fancy of hers. She did not insist on my staying, so I went, but felt uncomfortable all day. When I came back in the evening they told me she was dead. I felt as if some great icy hand were tightening, on my heart. Somehow I couldn’t break down and cry it out. I went around with a white, set face and gave no sign. Even at the funeral it was the same. The neighbors called me hard-hearted and pointed me out to their sons as a terrible warning. And all the time I was torn with agony.” “You poor boy.” “And one night she came to me in a dream. She did not look as she had just before she died, but strong and beautiful, with the color in her face she used to have. She smiled at me and kissed me and rumpled my hair as she used to do. I knew, then, it was all right. She understood, and I didn’t care whether others did or not. I woke up crying, and after I had had my grief out I was myself again.” “It was so sweet of her to think to come to you. She must have been loving you up in heaven and saw you were troubled, and came down just to comfort you and tell you it was all right,” the girl cried with soft sympathy. “That’s how I understood it. Of course, I was only a boy, but somehow I knew it was more than a dream. I’m not a spiritualist. I don’t believe such things happen, but I know it happened to me,” he finished illogically, with a smile. She sighed. “He was always so thoughtful of me, too. I do wish I had—could have been—more—” She broke off without finishing, but he understood. “You must not blame yourself for that. He would be the first to tell you so. He took you for what you could give him, and these last days were the best he had known for many years.” “He was so good to me. Oh, you don’t know how good.” “It was a great pleasure to him to be good to you, the greatest pleasure he knew.”