After the services were over, I approached her a moment as she stood in her black dress aloof from the others at the edge of the little family burying-ground.

She greeted me with a tremulous smile, and then as her glance wandered back to the pile of earth that two men were already shoveling into the grave, her eyes quickly filled with tears.
"I loved him as much as if he were my own father," she cried, "and it's my fault that he's dead.

I made him go!" "No, Polly, it is not your fault," I said decisively.

"It was a thing which no one could foresee and no one could help." She waited a moment trying to steady her voice, then she looked up pleadingly in my face.
"Radnor is innocent; tell me you believe it." "I am sure he is innocent," I replied.
"Then you can clear him--you're a lawyer.

I know you can clear him!" "You may trust me to do my best, Polly." "I hate Jim Mattison!" she exclaimed, with a flash of her old fire.