hild--where is my Zoe's child? Where is Zoe's Zoe?" he
asked in agitation. His whole body seemed to palpitate. His eyes were
all red fire.

CHAPTER XXV. WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?

The Young Doctor did not answer Jean Jacques at once. As he looked at
this wayworn fugitive he knew that another, and perhaps the final crisis
of his life, was come to Jean Jacques Barbille, and the human pity in
him shrank from the possible end to it all. It was an old-world figure
this, with the face of a peasant troubadour and the carriage of an
aboriginal--or an aristocrat. Indeed, the ruin, the lonely wandering
which had been Jean Jacques' portion, had given him that dignity which
often comes to those who defy destiny and the blows of angry fate. Once
there had been in his carriage something jaunty. This was merely life
and energy and a little vain confidence; now there was the look of
courage which awaits the worst the world can do. The life which,
according to the world's logic, should have made Jean Jacques a
miserable figure, an ill-nourished vagabond, had given him a physical
grace never before possessed by him. The face, however, showed the
ravages which loss and sorrow had made. It was lined and shadowed with
dark reflection, yet the forehead had a strange smoothness and serenity
little in accord with the rest of the countenance. It was like the
snow-summit of a mountain below which are the ragged escarpments of
trees and rocks, making a look of storm and warfare.

"Where is she--the child of my Zoe?" Jean Jacques repeated with an
almost angry emphasis; as though the Young Doctor were hiding her from
him.

"She is with the wife of Nolan Doyle, my partner in horse-breeding, not
very far from here. Norah Doyle was married five years, and she had no
child. This was a grief to her, even more than to Nolan, who, like her,
came of a stock that was prolific. It was Nolan who found your daughter
on the prairie--the driver dead, but she just alive when found. To give
her ease of mind, Nolan said he would make the child his own. When he
said that, she smiled and tried to speak, but it was too late, and she
was gone."

In sudden agony Jean Jacques threw up his hands. "So young and so soon
to be gone!" he exclaimed. "But a child she was and had scarce tasted
the world. The mercy of God--what is it!"

"You can't take time as the measure of life," rejoined the Young
Doctor with a compassionate gesture. "Perhaps she had her share of