she
turned away her brow and seemed to laugh in the face of the flames.

The father writhed below in his agony. "Forgive," he cried, "forgive the
past and give me back my child. It's all I have to love; it's all I've
ever loved. Be merciful, Jacqueline, be merciful!"

Her face flashed back upon him, still and white. "And what mercy have
you ever shown to me! Fool, idiot, don't you see I have lived for this
hour! To make you feel for once; to make you suffer for once as I have
suffered. You love the boy! Roger Holt, I once loved you."

And heedless of the rolling volume of smoke that now began to pour
towards her, heedless even of the long tongues of hungry flame that were
stretched out as if feeling for her from the distance behind, she stood
immovable, gazing down upon the casement where he knelt, with an
indescribable and awful smile upon her lips.

The sight was unbearable. With an instinct of despair both men drew
back, when suddenly they saw the woman start, unloose her clasp and drop
the child out of her arms upon the bridge. A hissing stream of water had
fallen upon the flames, and the shock had taken her by surprise. In a
moment the father was himself again.

"Get up, little feller, get up," he cried, "or if you cannot walk, crawl
along the bridge to the next house. I see a fireman there; he will lift
you in."

But at that moment the flames, till now held under some control, burst
from an adjoining window, and caught at the woodwork of the bridge. The
father yelled in dismay.

"Hurry, little feller, hurry!" he cried. "Get over towards the next
house before it is too late."

But a paralysis seemed to have seized the child; he arose, then stopped,
and looking wildly about, shook his head. "I cannot," he cried, "I
cannot." And the woman laughed, and with a hug of her empty arms, seemed
to throw her taunts into the space before her.

"Are you a demon?" burst from Mr. Sylvester's lips in uncontrollable
horror. "Don't you see you can save him if you will? Jump down, then,
and carry him across, or your father's curse will follow you to the
world beyond."

"Yes, climb down," cried the fireman, "you are lighter than I. Don't
waste a minute, a second."

"It is your own child, Jacqueline, your own child!" came from Holt's
white lips in final desperation. "I have deceived you; your baby did not
die; I wanted to get rid of you and I wanted to save him, so I lied to
you. The baby did not die; he lived, and that