There was a trained nurse, of course, and any member of her family would have done anything that was humanly possible to relieve Jack's vigil. But she would not be persuaded or argued into going out of her baby's room, and slept there in the hours when she did sleep, half awake and half dreaming, on a small cot by Vive's. And most of the time Frieda stayed with her. In a way it seems strange that it should have been Frieda. Olive, one would have supposed to be more sympathetic, Jean and Ruth had children of their own. But some change had been taking place in Frieda for a good many months and she adored little Vive. Whenever any of the others disputed Frieda's right, she always said quietly that after all, she was Jack's only sister, and that if anything happened she must be the one to be by her. If Jack's husband had been with her, why then it would have been different. So Frieda even waved away her devoted Professor, who feared she might be ill, by telling him there would be time enough to think of her later on. Although she and Jack sat side by side for many hours with their eyes on the baby, they but rarely spoke to each other. Yet it was too pitiful to continue always to watch the movement of Vive's baby hands and her heavy breathing. "If Vive dies do you think Frank will ever forgive me," Jack asked one night. And true to herself Frieda tossed her yellow head. "I don't see what Frank has to forgive? The point is will he ever forgive himself for having you go through all this alone?" "But I ought not to have brought Vive away. Still I wouldn't mind anything if only Frank were with me." A little later when the doctor arrived he said that the crisis would come within the hour and he would remain. Olive and Jean waited in the Lodge living room, Jim had disappeared somewhere an hour before. Ruth Colter came into the nursery and stayed by Jack. Half an hour passed. Then suddenly there was a strange, almost an unearthly silence in the room, and it was as if one could see the little white soul rise and float softly away like a bird. The little figure in the cradle was still. The doctor rose up. "It is over," he said pitifully. Frieda covered up her face, but Jack went over and looked down at Vive for a moment and then turned to the others. "Please do not let anyone come with me," she asked. "I must go outdoors alone." Then Jack went out past the living room, through the long avenue of tall trees, on farther and farther, not knowing where she was going. The Rainbow Ranch, which she had loved better than any place in the world, had taken from her the human being, whom at this moment she believed she loved most. Over Rainbow creek there hung a tiny yellow, crescent moon. It seemed to Jack that this, too, made her think of her baby, it was just as cold, just as perfect and as far away. She stayed there a long time, then getting up she wandered on. She did not think whether her family would be uneasy, she did not care.