s years, four or five, and--and'--Jerrie's breath came heavily now
and her words slowly, for she was nearing the point relating to herself
and wondering what the effect would be upon him. 'After a while there
came into Gretchen's life the dawning of a great hope, a great joy,
which she felt would make you glad, and wishing to keep it a secret till
you came home, she only gave you a hint of it. She wrote: "I have
something to tell you which will make you as happy as it does me--"'

'Stop!' and Arthur put out both his hands as if groping for something
which he could not find; then he said, 'Go on,' and Jerrie went on,
slowly now, for every word was an effort, and spoken so low that Arthur
bent forward to listen to her.

'I don't know just where Gretchen's home was when she lived alone
waiting for you. I only know that after a while there came to it a
little baby--a girl baby--Gretchen's and yours--'

She did not get any further, for with a bound Arthur was on his feet,
every faculty alert, every nerve strung to its utmost pitch, and every
muscle of his face quivering with wild excitement, as he exclaimed:

'A baby! Gretchen's baby and mine! A little girl! Oh, Cherry, if you are
deceiving me now!'

Jerrie, too, had risen, and was standing before him with her hands upon
his arm and her eyes, so like Gretchen's, looking into his, as she said:

'I am not deceiving you. There was a baby born to you and Gretchen
sometime in January, 18--, and it was christened in the little church
where you were married by the Rev. Mr. Eaton. Oh, Mr. Arthur, how can I
tell you; she, the baby, is living yet--grown to womanhood now, for this
happened about twenty years ago, and the girl is almost twenty--and is
waiting and longing so much for her father to recognize and claim her.
Oh, don't you understand me? Look at _me_ and then at Gretchen's
picture!'

For an instant Arthur stood like one stricken with catalepsy, his eyes
leaping from Jerry's face to Gretchen's, and from Gretchen's back to
Jerrie's, and then, with a motion of his hands as if fanning the air
furiously, he gasped:

'Twenty years ago--twenty years ago? How old are you, Cherry?'

'About twenty,' she answered, but her voice was a whisper, and her head
fell forward a little, though she kept her eyes upon Arthur, who went
on:

'And they christened my baby and Gretchen's you say? What name did they
give her? Speak quick, for I believe I am dying.'

'They called her Jerrin