But if I should tell you more about Miss Theodora, I would describe the delightful New England home which, with Diantha's help, she made for Ernest in Denver. Nor would I be able to omit telling of the romance which came into her own life.
At first she tried to avoid meeting William Easton, now a widower; but efforts of this kind, of course, were useless. They met calmly enough; and as they talked together, the years that had passed seemed as nothing.
"So you have come West, after all, Theodora—and for Ernest's sake, too, though it was for his sake you refused to come so long ago."
"Yes," she said, "for Ernest's sake it seems, though when I see how much he owes to you, I realize that you are more than kind—almost cruelly kind—"
Then William Easton, smiling somewhat sadly, said nothing in reply, though indeed there was no need of words. We all know how a story of this kind ends in books; and even in real life old lovers sometimes renew the pledges of youth.
(The End.)