able English name, was--of all things!--a Frenchman.

"A Creole American," corrected the accused, quietly. It was his one word
in his own behalf.

Kate was in the courtroom when the jury brought in its verdict. She rose
to receive it as if she were the accused, and more than one member of
the jury, glancing at her, pursed virtuous lips.

The sentence was a life term in the penitentiary.

Mrs. Kildare, now famous and infamous throughout the country, made one
more public appearance, this time in the church where she had been
christened, confirmed, and married. She did not wear mourning, but her
face was like marble against the bright color of her dress. The
congregation began to whisper. She had brought her two children to be
christened.

She was not quite alone. Two friends entered with her and stood at her
side: her mother, and a young man named Thorpe, who had been the least
among her girlhood adorers, and was the first to offer his support in
her disgrace. It was he, as godfather, who spoke the children's names:
"Jemima" for the elder, and for the younger, "Jacqueline Benoix."

At this there was a rustle throughout the church. Was it possible that
she was actually naming her child for the condemned lover? The old
minister's voice faltered, almost stopped, in his dismay. Afterwards,
she had to brave the blank, frozen glances of people who had known her
since her birth, and who now, it seemed, knew her no longer.

Not until that moment did Kate realize what interpretation the world
might put upon her act of public loyalty to the man who had gone for her
sake into a living death.

She had, indeed, her answer for the world; but it was an answer that
must wait many years, until the baby Jacqueline was old enough to marry
Benoix' son.

CHAPTER VIII

On the gallery at Storm stood two anxious girls with eyes fixed upon the
big juniper-tree less patiently than the eyes of the waiting dogs. Their
mother was invisible, but the presence of the dogs betrayed her.

"We'll have to do it, Jack," murmured the elder of the girls. "I hate to
disturb her, but--there they come!"

She pointed to the road immediately below, along which an object that
looked like a large black beetle was rattling and panting and honking
its leisurely way toward Storm.

"The voice of the Ark will arouse her--just wait," advised Jacqueline.
"It would arouse anything. Professor Jimsy must have bought the original
trial machine made by th