uneral Jennie tried to think of her future. She fixed
her mind on the need of doing something, even though she did not need
to. She thought that she might like to try nursing, and could start at
once to obtain the training which was required. She also thought of
William. He was unmarried, and perhaps he might be willing to come and
live with her. Only she did not know where he was, and Bass was also
in ignorance of his whereabouts. She finally concluded that she would
try to get work in a store. Her disposition was against idleness. She
could not live alone here, and she could not have her neighbors
sympathetically worrying over what was to become of her. Miserable as
she was, she would be less miserable stopping in a hotel in Chicago,
and looking for something to do, or living in a cottage somewhere near
the Cemetery of the Redeemer. It also occurred to her that she might
adopt a homeless child. There were a number of orphan asylums in the
city.

Some three weeks after Vesta's death Lester returned to Chicago
with his wife, and discovered the first letter, the telegram, and an
additional note telling him that Vesta was dead. He was truly grieved,
for his affection for the girl had been real. He was very sorry for
Jennie, and he told his wife that he would have to go out and see her.
He was wondering what she would do. She could not live alone. Perhaps
he could suggest something which would help her. He took the train to
Sandwood, but Jennie had gone to the Hotel Tremont in Chicago. He went
there, but Jennie had gone to her daughter's grave; later he called
again and found her in. When the boy presented his card she suffered
an upwelling of feeling--a wave that was more intense than that
with which she had received him in the olden days, for now her need of
him was greater.

Lester, in spite of the glamor of his new affection and the
restoration of his wealth, power, and dignities, had had time to think
deeply of what he had done. His original feeling of doubt and
dissatisfaction with himself had never wholly quieted. It did not ease
him any to know that he had left Jennie comfortably fixed, for it was
always so plain to him that money was not the point at issue with her.
Affection was what she craved. Without it she was like a rudderless
boat on an endless sea, and he knew it. She needed him, and he was
ashamed to think that his charity had not outweighed his sense of
self-preservation and his desire for material adv