"She doesn't know," said Alva; "you see, they have hardly ever exchanged a word."
"Well," said the young girl, "this is the craziest love story I ever heard in my life. Do you mean to say that you believe that a man who had never heard a girl speak would go and stay outside her window, all night long? What does he do all night, anyhow; walk about, or sit down? Alva, you can't believe that story? Not possibly!"
"Yes, I believe it," said Alva, cheerfully. "I believe it for two or three very good reasons. One is that there is no reason why the girl should construct such a silly lie for my benefit; another is that truth is always stranger than fiction; and the third is that she has a little picture of him, and as soon as I saw the picture I saw why Fate brought the Lathbuns and me together, and why the man waited outside her window all night."
"Why?" Lassie's tone became suddenly curious.
"My dear, the man is the image of the man that I love. They might be twin brothers. And men of such strength put through whatever they lay their hands unto."
Lassie appeared dumbfounded.
"He looks like—" she stammered and halted.
"Yes, dear," Alva said, simply; "he looks exactly like him! Now you see why I am interested. Now you see why I find it easy to believe. A bad man—a thoroughly bad man—is a creature that for some reason has not come into his heavenly birthright. If that girl, plain and pale and unassuming as she looks, has the power to draw him from nights of dissipation to nights in the cold outside her window, she has the power to call a soul to him or waken his own that is but sleeping. It takes a great deal of living and learning to attain to the faith which I have, but I have it and I am firm in it, and I believe the story and I believe that good is brewing for that man. I'm sure of it."
Alva spoke with such energetic earnestness, such dominating force, that Lassie was silenced for the minute.
"I suppose that I am just stupid," she said, after a little; "I've had so much that was different to try and learn to-day."