was silent a moment. Her mind seemed to be going back.

"He gits--mad," she said slowly. "Crazy, kind of. It's when he looks at
baby and baby looks different to him."

"Different? How different?"

"Why," she said, in a burst of pride turning for an instant to the
little figure on the couch, "baby's got awful cunnin' little ways. An'
he's got a little way o' lookin' up sideways, kind o' droll, an' when he
does that an' Mr. Tenney sees it"--here Raven glanced at her quickly,
wondering what accounted for her being so scrupulous with her "Mr.
Tenney"--"he can't help noticin' it an' he can't help thinkin' how baby
ain't colored like either of us--we're both dark----"

There she stopped, at last in irreparable confusion, and Raven was
relieved. How could he let her, he had been thinking, go on with the
sordid revelation? When he spoke, it was more to himself than to her,
but conclusively:

"The man's a beast."

"No, he ain't," said she indignantly. "Baby's light complected. You see
he is. An' I'm dark an' so's Mr. Tenney. An' I told him--I told him
about me before we were married, an' he thought he could stand it then.
But we went over to the county fair an' he see--_him_. He come up an'
spoke to him, that man did, spoke to us both, an' Mr. Tenney looked at
him as if he never meant to forgit him, an' he ain't forgot him, not a
minute since. He's light complected, blue eyes an' all. An' he stood
there, that man did, talkin' to us, kinder laughin' an' bein' funny, an'
all to scare me out o' my life for fear o' what he'd say. He didn't say
a word he hadn't ought to, an' when he'd had his joke he walked off. But
he had just that way o' lookin' up kinder droll, an' baby's got it. Mr.
Raven, for God's sake tell me why my baby's got to look like that man?"

She was shaking him into a passion as unendurable as her own. He had
never felt such pity for any human being, not even the men blinded and
broken in the War. And he understood her now. Even through his belief in
her, that sudden belief born of her beauty and her extremity, he had
been amazed at her accepting him so absolutely. Now he saw. He was her
last hope and perhaps because he was different from the neighbors to
whom she could not speak, she was throwing herself into the arms of his
compassion. And she had to hurry lest she might not see him again. He
sat there, his hands clenched between his knees, his head bent. He must
not look at her.

"Poor chap!" he said fin