"I think there is telepathy in great trouble. He feels intuitively that some one else is suffering torture, and 'a fellow feeling' drew him to me." She avoided looking at him, and her eyes followed the evolutions of a flock of white geese holding regatta in a pond close to the railway track. After some moments, she cautiously and tenderly laid her muslin-clad burden in her lap, and smoothed out the long lace-ruffled robe. With a start one little hand was thrown up, but she caught and held it. He was a handsome boy, and when she untied the lace cap, too tight at his throat, his fluffy yellow locks enhanced his beauty. The sight of the baby fingers clinging to the hand where the gold band shone renewed the struggle Mr. Herriott was trying to crush. Leaning toward her, he said: "Last night, at your request, I stifled my repugnance, and did what I deeply regret. To-day I must ask you for the only favor you can ever grant me. Give me back my ring." There was an angry pant in his voice that made the words a demand rather than request. "Mr. Herriott, I am sorry to refuse any wish of yours; but I cannot." "I want it." She looked steadily at him. "So do I. When I die it will be where you placed it; but in the coffin human covenants end, and I will order it sent to you by those who lay me in the grave. My ring is the badge of my loyalty--not yours. You are as free as you wish to be, but when I meet my God He will know I kept my marriage vows--always." "And the supreme vow was to love me!" From the fury in his eyes she did not flinch. "Yes, I intended to keep all. I thought I might learn to love you; and that you would be patient with me. I wanted to love you, and, as God hears me, I meant to spend my life trying to love you." Unable to restrain words he was unwilling to utter, he sprang up and took refuge on the front platform. A prolonged whistle of the engine announced the next stop, and the baby awoke with a startled cry, just as his father entered, followed by the nurse, a middle-aged woman who looked too ill to stand. Eglah rose and laid the child in her arms. "Madam, I am deeply grateful for your courtesy and goodness. I intended handing my card to your husband. Permit me to lay it on his chair." "I was glad to have your pretty boy. It was a welcome incident in a very dreary day. Good morning, sir." Mr. Herriott did not return until the second call for luncheon sounded through the train. He took her hat from the brass hook and held it toward her. "I dare say you are sufficiently weary to welcome luncheon." "Thank you, but I want absolutely nothing. I hope you will go without me." He went out, but not to the dining car. An hour later, when he came back, she had crossed the aisle to a vacant chair, raised the window, and, with an arm on the broad sill, rested her head there. She did not notice his entrance, and resuming his seat he opened a magazine.