situation--"

"Of course not. It's a preposterous situation. And I just drifted into
it--I don't know how. Oh, I do know--it was for the child's own sake;
so that you really mustn't call me a heartless parent any more, Miss
Urquhart. Nobody would do that who knew what I'd suffered for him." Mr
Carey made a gesture, and sighed deeply. "Even in the beginning it
would have been difficult to get out of it, having once got in," he
continued, after a pause; "but it has been going on so long, getting
worse and worse every day and every hour, till now I'm all tangled up
like that moth in that spider's web"--pointing to a little insect
tragedy going on beside them.

Miss Urquhart leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees, and
spreading her hands in the enchanting moonlight, which made them look
white as pearls--and made her rather worn face look as if finely carved
in ivory. It was a graceful, thoughtful, confidential pose, and her
eyes, uplifted, soft and kind, gleamed just under his eyes.

"I'm so sorry!" she murmured. "But if I don't know what the trouble
is--oh, don't tell me if you'd rather not!--I can't help you, can I?
And I do wish I could!"

"So do I. But I'm afraid nobody can help me. And yet, perhaps a fresh
eye--a woman's clearer insight--" He paused irresolute, then succumbed
to temptation. "Look here, Miss Urquhart, I'll just tell you how it is,
if you'll promise not to speak of it again. You are no gossip, I
know"--how did he know?--"and it will be such a blessed relief to tell
somebody. And perhaps you could advise me, after all--"

"Let me try," she broke in encouragingly. For an instant her pearly
hand touched his sleeve. "You may trust me," she said.

"I'm sure of it--I'm sure of it," he responded warmly. He drew his
chair closer, took a moment to collect himself, and plunged headlong.

"You see, she was related to the people my poor wife lived with when we
were first married, and she was a lot with her--it was lonesome for
her, with me away at sea--and they got to be sort of chums. She was
with us the night I lost my poor girl--I can't talk about that now, but
some day I'll tell you--and I know she was awfully fond of her. That
was just the difficulty."

"You are speaking," queried Alice gently, "of the person who has the
baby?"

"Exactly. I see you begin to understand."

"I think so," said Alice, with a smile broad enough to be visible in
moonlight. "But what was the difficulty?"

"Well, yo