ke no more
chances of a loathsome disease.

The secret he was hiding made him feel humble--made him unusually gentle
in his attitude towards the girl. He was a perfect lover, and she
was ravished with happiness. She thought that all his sufferings were
because of his love for her, and the delay which he had imposed out of
his excess of conscientiousness. So she loved him more and more, and
never was there a happier bride than Henriette Loches, when at last the
great day arrived.

They went to the Riveria for their honeymoon, and then returned to live
in the home which had belonged to George's father. The investment in
the notary's practice had proven a good one, and so life held out every
promise for the young couple. They were divinely happy.

After a while, the bride communicated to her husband the tidings that
she was expecting a child. Then it seemed to George that the cup of his
earthly bliss was full. His ailment had slipped far into the background
of his thoughts, like an evil dream which he had forgotten. He put away
the medicines in the bottom of his trunk and dismissed the whole matter
from his mind. Henriette was well--a very picture of health, as every
one agreed. The doctor had never seen a more promising young mother, he
declared, and Madame Dupont, the elder, bloomed with fresh life and joy
as she attended her daughter-in-law.

Henriette went for the summer to her father's place in the provinces,
which she and George had visited before their marriage. They drove out
one day to the farm where they had stopped. The farmer's wife had a
week-old baby, the sight of which made Henriette's heart leap with
delight. He was such a very healthy baby that George conceived the idea
that this would be the woman to nurse his own child, in case Henriette
herself should not be able to do it.

They came back to the city, and there the baby was born. As George paced
the floor, waiting for the news, the memory of his evil dreams came back
to him. He remembered all the dreadful monstrosities of which he had
read--infants that were born of syphilitic parents. His heart stood
still when the nurse came into the room to tell him the tidings.

But it was all right; of course it was all right! He had been a fool,
he told himself, as he stood in the darkened room and gazed at the
wonderful little mite of life which was the fruit of his love. It was a
perfect child, the doctor said--a little small, to be sure, but that was
a d