pale, sometimes convulsed a little. Myrtle was there talking
with her, and Eugene stood about nervously, wondering what he should
do--what he could do. Angela saw his worry. In spite of her own
condition she was sorry for him. She knew that this would cause him
pain, for he was not hard-hearted, and it was his first sign of
relenting. She smiled at him, thinking that maybe he would come round
and change his attitude entirely. Myrtle kept reassuring her that all
would be well with her. The nurse said to her and to the house doctor
who came in, a young man of twenty-eight, with keen, quizzical eyes,
whose sandy hair and ruddy complexion bespoke a fighting disposition,
that she was doing nicely.

"No bearing down pains?" he asked, smiling at Angela, his even white
teeth showing in two gleaming rows.

"I don't know what kind they are, doctor," she replied. "I've had all
kinds."

"You'll know them fast enough," he replied, mock cheerfully. "They're
not like any other kind."

He went away and Eugene followed him.

"How is she doing?" he asked, when they were out in the hall.

"Well enough, considering. She's not very strong, you know. I have an
idea she is going to be all right. Dr. Lambert will be here in a little
while. You had better talk to him."

The house surgeon did not want to lie. He thought Eugene ought to be
told. Dr. Lambert was of the same opinion, but he wanted to wait until
the last, until he could judge approximately correctly.

He came at five, when it was already dark outside, and looked at Angela
with his grave, kindly eyes. He felt her pulse, listened to her heart
with his stethoscope.

"Do you think I shall be all right, doctor?" asked Angela faintly.

"To be sure, to be sure," he replied softly. "Little woman, big
courage." He smoothed her hand.

He walked out and Eugene followed him.

"Well, doctor," he said. For the first time for months Eugene was
thinking of something besides his lost fortune and Suzanne.

"I think it advisable to tell you, Mr. Witla," said the old surgeon,
"that your wife is in a serious condition. I don't want to alarm you
unnecessarily--it may all come out very satisfactorily. I have no
positive reason to be sure that it will not. She is pretty old to have a
child. Her muscles are set. The principal thing we have to fear in her
case is some untoward complication with her kidneys. There is always
difficulty in the delivery of the head in women of her age. It may be