He choked a little as he muttered:

"Well, I'll be damned!"

CHAPTER XXIX

The reason why Jennie had been called was nothing more than one of
those infantile seizures the coming and result of which no man can
predict two hours beforehand. Vesta had been seriously taken with
membranous croup only a few hours before, and the development since
had been so rapid that the poor old Swedish mother was half frightened
to death herself, and hastily despatched a neighbor to say that Vesta
was very ill and Mrs. Kane was to come at once. This message,
delivered as it was in a very nervous manner by one whose only object
was to bring her, had induced the soul-racking fear of death in Jennie
and caused her to brave the discovery of Lester in the manner
described. Jennie hurried on anxiously, her one thought being to reach
her child before the arm of death could interfere and snatch it from
her, her mind weighed upon by a legion of fears. What if it should
already be too late when she got there; what if Vesta already should
be no more. Instinctively she quickened her pace and as the street
lamps came and receded in the gloom she forgot all the sting of
Lester's words, all fear that he might turn her out and leave her
alone in a great city with a little child to care for, and remembered
only the fact that her Vesta was very ill, possibly dying, and that
she was the direct cause of the child's absence from her; that perhaps
but for the want of her care and attention Vesta might be well
to-night.

"If I can only get there," she kept saying to herself; and then,
with that frantic unreason which is the chief characteristic of the
instinct-driven mother: "I might have known that God would punish me
for my unnatural conduct. I might have known--I might have
known."

When she reached the gate she fairly sped up the little walk and
into the house, where Vesta was lying pale, quiet, and weak, but
considerably better. Several Swedish neighbors and a middle-aged
physician were in attendance, all of whom looked at her curiously as
she dropped beside the child's bed and spoke to her.

Jennie's mind had been made up. She had sinned, and sinned
grievously, against her daughter, but now she would make amends so far
as possible. Lester was very dear to her, but she would no longer
attempt to deceive him in anything, even if he left her--she felt
an agonized stab, a pain at the thought--she must still do the
one right thing. Vesta mus