aster of Adare had the still little babe huddled
up against his breast. It was some time before they could induce him to
give it to Moanne. Then, suddenly, he shook himself like a great bear,
and crushed Philip's shoulders in his hands.

"God knows I'm sorry for you, Boy," he cried brokenly. "It's hurt
me--terribly. But YOU--it must be like the cracking of your soul. And
Josephine, Mignonne, my little flower! She is with her mother?"

"Yes," replied Philip. "Come. Let us go. We can do nothing here. And
Josephine and her mother will be better alone for a time."

"I understand," said Adare almost roughly, in his struggle to steady
himself. "You're thinking of ME, Boy. God bless you for that. You go to
Josephine and Miriam. It is your place. Jean and I will go into the big
room."

Philip left them at Adare's room and went to his own, leaving the door
open that he might hear Josephine if she came out into the hall. He was
there to meet her when she appeared a little later. They went to
Moanne. And at last all things were done, and the lights were turned
low in Adare House. Philip did not take off his clothes that night, nor
did Jean and Metoosin. In the early dawn they went out together to the
little garden of crosses. Close to the side of Iowaka, Jean pointed out
a plot.

"Josephine would say the little one will sleep best there, close to
HER," he said. "She will care for it, M'sieur. She will know, and
understand, and keep its little soul bright and happy in Heaven."

And there they digged. No one in Adare House heard the cautious fall of
pick and spade.

With morning came a strangely clear sun. Out of the sky had gone the
last haze of cloud. Jean crossed himself, and said:

"She knows--and has sent sunshine instead of storm."

Hours later it was Adare who stood over the little grave, and said
words deep and strong, and quivering with emotion, and it was Jean and
Metoosin who lowered the tiny casket into the frozen earth. Miriam was
not there, but Josephine clung to Philip's side, and only once did her
voice break in the grief she was fighting back. Philip was glad when it
was over, and Adare was once more in his big room, and Josephine with
her mother. He did not even want Jean's company. In his room he sat
alone until supper time. He went to bed early, and strangely enough
slept more soundly than he had been able to sleep for some time.

When he awoke the following morning his first thought was that this was