attractive. She could see her now--the new Mrs. Kane--the
only Mrs. Kane that ever was, lying in his arms. He had held
her so once. He had loved her. Yes, he had! There was a solid lump in
her throat as she thought of this. Oh, dear! She sighed to herself,
and clasped her hands forcefully; but it did no good. She was just as
miserable as before.

When the day was over she was actually relieved; anyway, the deed
was done and nothing could change it. Vesta was sympathetically aware
of what was happening, but kept silent. She too had seen the report in
the newspaper. When the first and second day after had passed Jennie
was much calmer mentally, for now she was face to face with the
inevitable. But it was weeks before the sharp pain dulled to the old
familiar ache. Then there were months before they would be back again,
though, of course, that made no difference now. Only Japan seemed so
far off, and somehow she had liked the thought that Lester was near
her--somewhere in the city.

The spring and summer passed, and now it was early in October. One
chilly day Vesta came home from school complaining of a headache. When
Jennie had given her hot milk--a favorite remedy of her
mother's--and had advised a cold towel for the back of her head,
Vesta went to her room and lay down. The following morning she had a
slight fever. This lingered while the local physician, Dr. Emory,
treated her tentatively, suspecting that it might be typhoid, of which
there were several cases in the village. This doctor told Jennie that
Vesta was probably strong enough constitutionally to shake it off, but
it might be that she would have a severe siege. Mistrusting her own
skill in so delicate a situation, Jennie sent to Chicago for a trained
nurse, and then began a period of watchfulness which was a combination
of fear, longing, hope, and courage.

Now there could be no doubt; the disease was typhoid. Jennie
hesitated about communicating with Lester, who was supposed to be in
New York; the papers had said that he intended to spend the winter
there. But when the doctor, after watching the case for a week,
pronounced it severe, she thought she ought to write anyhow, for no
one could tell what would happen. Lester had been so fond of Vesta. He
would probably want to know.

The letter sent to him did not reach him, for at the time it
arrived he was on his way to the West Indies. Jennie was compelled to
watch alone by Vesta's sick-bed, for although s