2. You can see that it was no easy matter for Sylvia to get at the truth. The nurses, already terrified because of their indiscretion, had been first professionally thrashed, and then carefully drilled as to the answers they were to make. But as a matter of fact they did not have to make any answers at all, because Sylvia was unwilling to reveal to anyone her distrust of her husband. One of two things was certain: either she had been horribly wronged by her husband, or now she was horribly wronging him. Which was the truth? Was it conceivable that I, Mary Abbott, would leap to a false conclusion about such a matter? She knew that I felt intensely, almost fanatically, on the subject, and also that I had been under great emotional stress. Was it possible that I would have voiced mere suspicions to the nurses? Sylvia could not be sure, for my standards were as strange to her as my Western accent. She knew that I talked freely to everyone about such matters--and would be as apt to select the nurses as the ladies of the house. On the other hand, how was it conceivable that I could know positively? To recognize a disease might be easy; but to specify from what source it had come--that was surely not in my power! They did not leave her alone for long. Mrs. Tuis came in, with her feminine terrors. “Sylvia, you must know that you are treating your husband dreadfully! He has gone away down the beach by himself, and has not even seen his baby!” “Aunt Varina--” she began, “won’t you please go away?” But the other rushed on: “Your husband comes here, broken with grief because of this affliction; and you overwhelm him with the most cruel and wicked reproaches with charges you have no way in the world of proving----” And the old lady caught her niece by the hand. “My child! Come, do your duty!” “My duty?” “Make yourself fit, and take your husband to see his baby.” “Oh, I can’t!” cried Sylvia. “I don’t want to be there when he sees her! If I loved him--” Then, seeing her aunt’s face of horror, she was seized with a sudden impulse of pity, and caught the poor old lady in her arms. “Aunt Varina,” she said, “I am making you suffer, I know--I am making everyone suffer! But if you only knew how I am suffering myself! How can I know what to do.” Mrs. Tuis was weeping; but quickly she got herself together, and answered in a firm voice, “Your old auntie can tell you what to do. You must come to your senses, my child--you must let your reason prevail. Get your face washed, make yourself presentable, and come and take your husband to see your baby. Women have to suffer, dear; we must not shirk our share of life’s burdens.” “There is no danger of my shirking,” said Sylvia, bitterly. “Come, dear, come,” pleaded Mrs. Tuis. She was trying to lead the girl to the mirror. If only she could be made to see how distraught and disorderly she looked! “Let me help you to dress, dear--you know how much better it always makes you feel.”