t her and she saw it was Christ, gazing at
her with accusing eyes, yet full of sorrow. She groaned, and tried to
pray, but her tongue was dead. Visions that had come to her, in sleep,
before the baby's birth, came again, to mock her. She knew herself
condemned to walk for years this lonely road she was traversing. Always
at the end, she must turn and go back looking for little Jerry who was
lost. She could hear him crying--she knew he needed her--but she could
not get to him. Something seemed to walk beside her--she could not
remember what it was--it clung to her and she to it. Out of the horror
she turned her head to the light which struck across her husband's face.

"Oh, Jerry!" she sobbed.

"Steady, Jane, steady. They have to hurt him a little, dear."

"Jerry, talk to me. I'm afraid of my thoughts," she whispered to him.

He saw she was nearly beside herself, so he forced himself to tell her
all the trivial happenings since her departure. Stories about Billy
Biggs, the conversation at one of the Brendons' dinners, the account of
the Bryce child's latest escapade. He heard his voice going on and on,
he saw Jane's frantic effort to listen to him, yet he knew that his real
self was indoors with those low-voiced men, who were trying to hold the
fine, silken thread of life in their sensitive fingers.

Presently Doctor Grant stepped to the door and spoke to them. Jerry's
hand led Jane toward him. They were like very little children stumbling
to him for help. He seemed so steady and sure.

"We're going to put in the tube. Don't be alarmed. It isn't too painful,
but I wanted you to know."

He turned back into the room. Jerry put his arms about Jane, but to his
touch she felt like stone. She did not cling to him--she leaned on him,
stiff and cold. It seemed ages that they stood so, punctuated by one
scream of pain from Baby, then silence! Jane shuddered and Jerry's arms
tightened. The night and the busy village below were blotted out. They
two stood together in a chaos of pain.

Doctor Grant's touch dragged Jerry back.

"Bring her in now and let her look at him," he said.

"Is he dead?" Jerry whispered.

"No--he is asleep--it's all right."

Jerry watched the perspiration run down Doctor Grant's face unnoticed by
him.

Then he gently loosed Jane, turned her, and led her in to the bedside.

Little Jerry, still flushed, but at peace, lay breathing gently. The
nurse and the doctor smiled at them.

"Wonderful ope