"He's dead," she whispered, with a catch in her voice; then she went on in breathless explanation: "but he told me first. He said, 'Hurry back, Ruth, and make it right. They can come for me as soon as I can travel. Tell Kilday I wasn't worth it.' Oh, Sandy! I don't know whether it was right or wrong,--what you did,--but it was merciful: if you could have seen him that last week, crying all the time like a little child, afraid of the shadows on the wall, afraid to be alone, afraid to live, afraid to die--" Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands. Sandy started forward, then he paused and gripped the chair-back until his fingers were white. "Ruth," he said impatiently, "you'd best be going quick. It'll break the heart of me to see you standing there suffering, unless I can take you in me arms and comfort you. I've sworn never to speak the word; but, by the saints--" "You may!" sobbed Ruth, and with a quick, timid little gesture she laid her hands in his. For a moment he held her away from him. "It's not pity," he cried, searching her face, "nor gratitude!" She lifted her eyes, as honest and clear as her soul. "It's been love, Sandy," she whispered, "ever since the first." [Illustration: "'It's been love, Sandy, ... ever since the first'"] Two hours later, when the permit came, Sandy walked out of the jail into the court-house square. A crowd had collected, for Ruth had told her story and the news had spread; public favor was rapidly turning in his direction. He looked about vaguely, as a man who has gazed too long at the sun and is blinded to everything else. "I've got my buggy," cried Jimmy Reed, touching him on the arm. "Where do you want to go?" Sandy hesitated, and a dozen invitations were shouted in one breath. He stood irresolute, with his foot on the step of the buggy; then he pulled himself up. "To Judge Hollis," he said. CHAPTER XXIV THE PRIMROSE WAY Spring and winter, and spring again, and flying rumors fluttered tantalizing wings over Clayton. Just when it was definitely announced that Willowvale was to be sold, Ruth Nelson returned, after a year's absence, and opened the old home. Mrs. Nelson did not come with her. That excellent lady had concluded to bestow her talents upon a worthier object. In her place came Miss Merritt, a quiet little sister of Ruth's mother, who proved to be to the curious public a pump without a handle. About this time Sandy Kilday returned from his last term at the university, and gossip was busy over the burden of honors under which he staggered, and the brilliance of the position he had accepted in the city. In prompt contradiction of this came the shining new sign, "Hollis & Kilday," which appeared over the judge's dingy little office.