There was a blur before Marian's eyes, a pressure about her heart which seemed congealing into stone, but she tried to stammer out something, bending over the tiny thing. Wilford Cameron's child, which she could not see for the thick blackness around her. Tears and bitter pangs of grief had the news of that child's birth wrung from Marian, bringing back all the dreadful past, and making her hear again as if it were but yesterday, the cold, decisive words: "If there were a child it would of course be different." There was a child now, and it lay in Marian's lap, clad in the garments she had made, the cambric and the lace, the flannel and the merino, which nevertheless could not take from it that look of sickly infancy, or make it beautiful to others beside the mother. But it was Wilford's child, and so when for a moment both Helen and Katy turned to examine a rosebush just in bloom, Marian Hazleton hugged the little creature to her bosom, whispering over it a blessing which, coming from one so wronged, was doubly valuable. There was a tear, one of Marian's, on its face, when Katy came back to it, and there were more in Marian's eyes, falling like rain, as Katy asked, "What makes you cry?" "I was thinking of what might have been," came struggling from Marian's pale lips, and Helen felt a throb of pain as she remembered Dr. Grant, and then thought of herself in connection with this sad "Might have been." Marian, too, knew the full meaning of those words, as was attested by the gush of tears which dropped so fast on baby's face that Katy, alarmed for the safety of the crimson cloak wrapped around it for effect, took the child in her own arms, commencing that cooing conversation which shows how much young mothers love their first born. Marian's tears ceased at last, and after questioning Helen of Silverton and its people, she turned abruptly to Katy, still rocking and talking to her child, and asked: "What do you intend to call her?" "Genevra," Katy said, and simultaneously with that word Marian Hazleton dropped without sound or motion to the floor. Had Helen and Katy been put upon their oath, both would have testified that even before the answer came, Marian had fainted, just as she did when Helen first went to secure her services for Katy's bridal wardrobe. This time, however, there was no Dr. Grant at hand, and so the frightened ladies did what they could, bathing her face and chafing her cold hands until the life came slowly back, and with a frightened expression Marian looked around her, asking what had happened? "Yes, I know now," she said, as baby's cry fell on her ear, but restoring her wholly to herself. "Fainting is one of my weaknesses," she continued, turning to Helen. "You have seen me so before. It is my heart," and with this explanation she satisfied her visitors, though Katy expressed much solicitude and proposed to send her medical aid.