ng was lacking
in Adare's greeting this morning. There was an uneasy, searching look
in his eyes as he looked at Philip. They shook hands, and his hand was
heavy and lifeless. His shoulders seemed to droop a little more, and
his voice was unnatural when he spoke.

"You did not go to bed until quite late last night, Philip?"

"Yes, it was late, Mon Pere."

For a moment Adare was silent, his head bowed, his eyes on the floor.
He did not raise his gaze when he spoke again.

"Did you hear anything--late--about midnight?" he asked. He
straightened, and looked steadily into Philip's eyes. "Did you see
Miriam?"

For an instant Philip felt that it was useless to attempt concealment
under the searching scrutiny of the older man's eyes. Like an
inspiration came to him a thought of Josephine.

"Josephine was the last person I saw after leaving you," he said
truthfully. "And she was in her room before eleven o'clock."

"It is strange, unaccountable," mused Adare. "Miriam left her bed last
night while I was asleep. It must have been about midnight, for it is
then that the moon shines full into our window. In returning she
awakened me. And her hair was damp, there was snow on her gown! My God,
she had been outdoors, almost naked! She said that she must have walked
in her sleep, that she had awakened to find herself in the open door
with the wind and snow beating upon her. This is the first time. I
never knew her to do it before. It disturbs me."

"She is sleeping now?"

"I don't know. Josephine came a little later and said that she could
not sleep. Miriam went with her."

"It must have been the baby," comforted Philip, placing a hand on
Adare's arm. "We can stand it, Mon Pere. We are men. With them it is
different. We must bear up under our grief. It is necessary for us to
have strength for them as well as ourselves."

"Do you think it is that?" cried Adare with sudden eagerness. "If it
is, I am ashamed of myself, Philip! I have been brooding too much over
the strange change in Miriam. But I see now. It must have been the
baby. It has been a tremendous strain. I have heard her crying when she
did not know that I heard. I am ashamed of myself. And the blow has
been hardest on you!"

"And Josephine," added Philip.

John Adare had thrown back his shoulders, and with a deep feeling of
relief Philip saw the old light in his eyes.

"We must cheer them up," he added quickly. "I will ask Josephine if
they will join us at b