As she lay thus a sudden mysterious exaltation came upon her, and she grew warm and happy. She cared no longer for any man's opinion of her. She was a mother, and God said to her, "Be peaceful and hopeful." Light fell around her, and the pleasant odors of flowers. She looked through sunny vistas of oaks and apple-trees. Bees hummed in the clover, and she began to sing with them, and her low, humming song melted into the roar of the storm. She saw birds flying like butterflies over fields of daisies, and her song grew louder. It became sweet and maternal--full of lullaby cadences. As she lay thus, lovely and careless and sinless as a prattling babe, her eyes fixed upon the gleam of lights in the dark, a shaking hand was laid on her shoulder, and Rivers spoke in anxious voice: "What is it, Blanche?--are you sick?" She looked at him drowsily, and at last slowly said: "No, Jim--I am happy. See my baby there, in the sunshine! Isn't she lovely?" The man grew rigid with fear, and the hair of his head moved. He thought her delirious--dying, perhaps, of cold. He gathered her hands in his and fell upon his knees. "What is it, dear? What do you mean?" "Nothing, nothing," she murmured. "You're sure you're not worse? Can't I help you?" She did not reply, and he knelt there holding her hands until she sank into unmistakably quiet sleep. He feared the unspeakable. He imagined her taken in premature childbirth, brought on by exposure and excitement, and, for the first time, he took upon himself the burden of his guilt. The thought of danger to her had not hitherto troubled him. For the poor, weak fool of a husband he cared nothing; but this woman was his, and the child to come was his. Birth--of which many men make a jest--suddenly took on majesty and terror, and the little life seemed about to enter a world of storm which filled him with a sense of duty new to him. He bent down and laid his cheek against his woman's hands, and his throat choked with a passionate resolution. He put his merry, careless young manhood behind him at that moment and assumed the responsibilities of a husband. "May God strike me dead if I don't make you happy!" he whispered. VII CONCLUSION Bailey woke in the night, chilled. The fire was low, and as he rose to add some coal to the stove he looked about him in his way. Rivers' bunk was empty. He glanced toward the bed, and saw him wrapped in his buffalo coat kneeling beside Blanche's pillow. He seemed asleep, as his cheek rested upon his right hand, which was clasped in both of hers. The young pioneer sat for several minutes thinking, staring straight at his friend. There was something here that made all the difference in the world. Suppose these people really loved each other as he loved Estelle? Then he softly fed the fire and lay down again.