"Of love, yes--he could have had no other name. I am so happy that he is a boy." The door swung open and they were in the warm hallway. "You must let me see him. Bring him to the grate. But, first, take off your hat and coat. Mary will relieve you of them. Now, let me see him." Dudley, the second, was awake, wide-eyed and frightened, when he looked up into the two faces above him. "Does he not look like his father?" asked Justine, happily. CHAPTER XXVII. THE END OF IT ALL. Celeste started. Justine's innocent query rudely tore down the curtain that had hung between her understanding and Jud's strange behavior, and it seemed to her, in that one brief, horrible moment, that she saw all that was black and ugly in life. She could take her eyes from the mother's gentle face only to let them rest upon the features of the baby. Justine's question--"Does he not look like his father?"--could have but one answer. Dudley Sherrod's likeness was stamped on the face of the boy, unmistakable, accusing. In her terror, the face of the little one seemed to age suddenly until there loomed up before her the features of Jud, the man. Powerless to answer, she turned abruptly and staggered to a window, leaning heavily against the casing, her heart like lead, her face as white as death. She knew now the cause of everything that had mystified and troubled her in Jud's conduct. Now she knew why the picture of Justine was before him, now she knew why the mention of her name threw him into confusion. The whole wretched truth was plain. "Oh, Jud! Oh, Jud!" she cried to herself. "Oh, this poor ruined girl! How could he have done such a--oh, God, no, no! I must be wrong. The resemblance is not real--it is my fancy. But--but, why does she ask me if he looks like his father? What other father can there be--what other man is known to both of us? But how young the boy is; Jud has not seen her in years. He cannot be the father. Why am I afraid? Why have I doubted him?" The voice of the other woman came to her from the fireplace, indistinct, jumbled and as if through the swirl of a storm. "Pardon me, but I do not know what your name is now," was the apologetic remark from the other side of the room, and Celeste turned to her. "My name is--is Sherrod, Miss Van," she said, slowly. Justine looked up in surprise and bewilderment. A shadow of unbelief crossed her face. "Sherrod?" she asked, curiously. "Why, how strange that we should have the same name." "The same name, Miss Van?" "My name has not been Van for a long, long time. We were married before you met us in Proctor's Falls, I'm--why, what is the matter?" "It is not true--it is not true," half shrieked Celeste. Justine shrank back as if confronted by a mad woman, instinctively shielding her boy. "Do you mean to tell me you were married to Jud Sherrod?" she continued, scornfully. [Illustration: "IT IS NOT TRUE, HALF SHRIEKED CELESTE.]