It was a very good baby, and gave little trouble; consequently Nina was permitted to hold it most of the time. She felt no desire to rise from the bed, to take an active part in life again. She would have liked to remain there until Thorpe came and sat beside her. She spoke little, excepting to the child, and perhaps those hours, despite the great want, were the happiest of her life. "What are some women made of?" demanded Miss Shropshire of Dr. Clough. "What is she going to do with that baby? That's what I want to know. It may be months before Dudley Thorpe gets here, and it certainly won't be long before Mr. Randolph comes up again. I don't believe she has given a thought to the consequences--and I have always thought her an unusually bright and level-headed woman." "I see nothing to do but let matters take their course." He hesitated a moment, then gave Miss Shropshire a swift tentative glance, shifting his eyes hastily. "Would you--you believe in my disinterestedness, do you not, Miss Molly?" "I do, indeed. You have been a real friend. I'm sure I don't know what I should have done without you." "Then--if Mr. Thorpe does not return, when she has become convinced that he does not mean to return, will you help me to make her understand that I am only too willing to marry her and adopt her child?" Miss Shropshire stared, then shook her head. "You don't know Nina. It would be years before she got over her infatuation for Dudley Thorpe, if ever; and by that time everybody would know. Besides, I don't share your distrust of Thorpe. He is selfish, and is probably travelling beyond the reach of mails; but he is the soul of honour: no one could doubt that." "He may be dead." "We should have heard by this time; and it would not help you if he were. Most likely it would kill her." "We don't die so easily." "The thing to consider now is that baby. It's a dear little thing, and looks less like putty than most babies; I can actually see a resemblance to Thorpe. But, all the same, its presence is decidedly embarrassing." The baby solved the problem. It died when it was ten days old. Even Miss Shropshire, who scorned the emotions, shuddered and burst into tears at the awful agony in Nina's eyes. Nina did not cry, nor did she speak. When the child was dressed for its coffin, the housekeeper brought it to the bedside. Nina raised herself on her elbow, and gave it a long devouring glance. It looked like marble rather than wax, and its likeness to Dudley Thorpe was startling. The contours of infancy had disappeared in its brief severe illness, and the strong bold outlines of the man who had called it into being were reproduced in little. The dark hair fell over its forehead in the same way, the mouth had the same arch. Miss Shropshire entered the room, and Nina spoke for the first time since the baby had given its sharp cry of warning.