Those who knew him would have been quite certain that in Scipio's case there could only be one result from the addition of the two and two of his psychology. In a man of his peculiar mental caliber it might well seem that there could be no variation to the sum. And the resulting prophecy would necessarily be an evil, or at least a pessimistic one. He was so helpless, so lacking in all the practicalities of human life. He seemed to have one little focus that was quite incapable of expansion, of adaptability. That focus was almost entirely filled by his Jessie's image, with just a small place in it reserved for his twins. Take the woman out of it, and, to all intents and purposes, he looked out upon a dead white blank. Every thought in his inadequate brain was centered round his wife. She was the mainspring of his every emotion. His love for her was his whole being. It was something so great and strong that it enveloped all his senses. She was his, and he was incapable of imagining life without her. She was his, and only death could alter so obvious a fact. She was his vanguard in life's battle, a support that shored up his confidence and courage to face, with a calm determination, whatever that battle had to offer him. But with Jessie's going all prophecy would have remained unfulfilled. Scipio did not go under in the manner to have been expected of him. After the first shock, outwardly at least, there appeared to be no change in him. His apparently colorless personality drifted on in precisely the same amiable, inconsequent manner. What his moments of solitude were, only he knew. The agony of grief through which he passed, the long sleepless nights, the heartbreaking sense of loss, these things lay hidden under his meaningless exterior, which, however, defied the revelation of his secret. After the passing of the first madness which had sent him headlong in pursuit of his wife, a sort of mental evolution set in. That unadaptable focus of his promptly became adaptable. And where it had been incapable of expansion, it slowly began to expand. It grew, and, whereas before his Jessie had occupied full place, his twins now became the central feature. The original position was largely reversed, but it was chiefly the growth of the images of his children, and not the diminishing of the figure of his wife. And with this new aspect came calmness. Nothing could change his great love for his erring Jessie, nothing could wipe out his sense of loss; his grief was always with him. But whereas, judged by the outward seeming of his character, he should have been crushed under Fate's cruel blow, an inverse process seemed to have set in. He was lifted, exalted to the almost sublime heights where his beacon-fire of duty shone.