The relief train from Florence, four miles away, arrived at eight, just four hours from the time the accident occurred, bringing the surgeons and new officers to take charge, and the drummer resigned his command. The new conductor took the name and address of each passenger as they sat in grim array swathed in blankets in the cabin. Gordon gave the name of "Mr. and Mrs. Frank Gordon, New York," for himself and Kate, who sat beside him. Ruth, not hearing him, with an absent look gave the address, "Mrs. Frank Gordon, New York." The conductor looked from one to the other, puzzled, and the drummer grinned. "A Mormon Elder, by the Lord--and he lives in Gotham!" he whispered to the youngster he had in tow. Lucy lay in her mother's lap suffering from an ugly gash across her forehead. Gordon had bathed her forehead as soon as he had discovered it, and carried her to the cabin, with her soft arms clinging around his neck. He was watching her lips twitch. She had grown in the three years out of all resemblance to the child he had left. Her eyes now looked at him with the timid light of a maiden. As she had clung to him while he carried her to the house, he had felt her lips soft and warm with the dawn of sex when she kissed him and murmured: "Papa, dear, it's so good to have you carry me. I love you." For the first time there came into his soul the sweet and terrible realisation that his own flesh and blood had become one with Ruth's in the greatest miracle of earth, the heart of a woman--a woman who could live and suffer and whose heart could break even as her mother's! Her eyes were all his, her hair a perfect mixture of the pigments with which theirs had been coloured. The strength of the man trembled with tender pride and wonder as he looked at her--his living marriage vow, written out before his eyes in a beautiful poem of flesh and blood. In the gentle beauty of her face he saw reflected himself blended with the young vision of Ruth as he had first met her a laughing girl--the little stranger a growing woman, himself and his first love dream in one. Her face held him fascinated. Kate watched him furtively. The doctor examined and dressed Lucy's wound, and told Ruth it must be sewed up at once if the child were saved from an ugly scar that would disfigure her for life. He pronounced the heart action too weak from the shock to use an anesthetic. "It can only be done, madam," he gravely said to her, "if you can get her consent to endure the pain." "Will you bear it, dear?" the mother asked. She raised herself up and beckoned to her father. Gordon had heard the doctor's remark, came at once and bent over her. "I can if Papa will hold me in his arms and you take one hand and he the other," she said, eagerly. Gordon took her and told the surgeon to take the stitches without delay.