“Ed has gone,” I said—and added a white lie to smooth things. “He told me to wish you luck.”
It seemed to me a shade of relief crossed both their faces. Love is selfish. But I couldn’t blame them.
I gave them the cabin that night and made my bed beside the fire. But I didn’t sleep. No. Broderick loomed too big in my mind.
The back eddy had brought him unwitting to the spot, to straighten a grievous tangle in two lives, to bring peace to unquiet souls. And it might be that the eddy took him away. I don’t know. I’ve often wondered. I know I never saw him, never heard of him again.
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the October 20, 1915 issue of The Popular Magazine.