The name was spoken impulsively, as if some subconscious force or habit had assumed control over a tongue well bridled till now, and with tight lips John suddenly checked himself and sat flushing under the old man's kindly stare.
"I was going to mention her," Cavanaugh put in, his honest eyes falling to the floor, "but didn't know exactly how you'd feel about it. Oh yes, I still believe in a great Supreme Power that works for eternal good. Shall I tell you about Tilly?"
John was silent. His face had grown rigid and even pale. His lips quivered. "I think I know two things about her," he finally said. "Somehow I feel sure that she is alive and married to Joel Eperson."
Cavanaugh nodded slowly. "Yes, my boy; she finally took him, but it was not till four years after the report of your death. I see her and Joel off and on from time to time. It will do no good to open old wounds now, but I'll say this, John, and that is that your wife's constancy to your memory, and Joel's faithfulness to her through all her trouble—the death of her ma and pa, and—and some other things—has given the lie to every statement ever made that men and women don't actually love each other. If Tilly had had the slightest hope that you were living she'd have remained single till the end of time. She never considered that court edict as right. Oh, I wish I could—could tell you all I know on that line, but it would do no good now."
"No, we'd better drop it," John said, heavily. "It will do no good to go over it. I've regarded it as a dead issue for eleven years."
"That may be," Cavanaugh said to himself, "but he is stunned, actually stunned. I see it in his face and hear it in his voice. Poor boy! Poor boy!"
"Before dropping the subject I will tell you one thing more," the old man said, aloud, "and that is that they have two children, a boy of about six and a little girl of four or five. They are sweet little tots and are a great comfort. They are images of their mother, and I love 'em."
"Tell me this—tell me this, Sam," John said, and it was as if a great anxiety rested on him. "I want to know this. Of course, you'll see that it is no affair of mine, but I'd like to know if Eperson is providing well for Til—for his wife and children. Sam, she has suffered a lot through no fault of her own, and most of that suffering came through happening to meet me up there at Cranston and that silly boy-and-girl fancy of—of hers and mine. She deserves an easier time from now on, and that is why I'd like to know how she and Eperson are financially situated."
Cavanaugh drew his scraggy brows together. His color deepened to red in his cheeks. "I wish I could make a good report on that line," he answered, awkwardly, "but I can't give you the best of news. Joel is not to blame, though. I'll say that. He simply belongs to the class of men that come, as he did, from landholders and slave-holders. Such men are highly honorable, but they simply don't know how to make ends meet."
"Then they are poor, very poor?" John said, grimly.