e better for it!"

"I can't see it that way!"

"You don't have to. If God does, isn't that enough?"

"I don't know! I can't see God now; it's too dark!" Tennelly put his
forehead against the window-pane and groaned.

"But you have your little child," said Courtland, hesitating. "Isn't
that something to help?"

"She breaks my heart," said the father. "To think of her worse than
motherless! That little bit of a helpless thing! And it's my fault that
she's here with a future of shame!"

"Nothing of the sort! It'll be your fault if she has a future of shame,
but it's up to you. Her mother's shame can't hurt her if you bring her
up right. It's your job, and you can get a lot of comfort out of it if
you try!"

"I don't see how," dully.

"Listen, Tennelly. Does she look like her mother?"

Tennelly's sensitive face quivered with pain. "Yes," he said, huskily.
"I'll send for her and you can see." He rang a bell. "I brought her and
the nurse up to town with me this morning."

An elderly, kind-faced woman brought the baby in, laid it in a big chair
where they could see it, and then withdrew.

Courtland drew near, half shyly, and looked in startled wonder. The baby
was strikingly like Gila, with all her grace, delicate features, wide
innocent eyes. The sweep of the long lashes on the little white cheeks,
that were all too white for baby flesh, seemed old and weird in the tiny
face. Yet when the baby looked up and recognized its father it crowed
and smiled, and the smile was wide and frank and lovable, like
Tennelly's. There was nothing artificial about it. Courtland drew a long
sigh of relief. For the moment he had been looking at the baby as if it
were Gila grown small again; now he suddenly realized it was a new
little soul with a life and a spirit of its own.

"She will be a blessing to you, Nelly," he said, looking up hopefully.

"I don't see it that way!" said the hopeless father, shaking his head.

"Would you rather have her--taken away--as her mother suggested?" he
hazarded, suddenly.

Tennelly gave him one quick, startled look. "God! No!" he said, and
staggered back into a chair. "Do you think she looks so sick as that? I
know she's not well. I know she's lost flesh! But she's been neglected.
Gila never cared for her and wouldn't be bothered looking after things.
She was angry because the baby came at all. She resented motherhood
because it put a limitation on her pleasures. My poor little girl!"

Tennel