She stood awhile meditating. She decided that probably there were things that she might do. She ought to go herself and prepare some food. She might give Mahala the comfort of playing with the baby while she worked. She was half in doubt as to whether she should go, and yet she could think of many reasonable excuses. She realized that it was on slow feet that she walked down the road carrying the baby that every day was growing a heavier burden for her slight young shoulders. She was thinking a queer thing as she went along. He was heavier to carry when he was asleep than when he was awake. Asleep, he lay a dead weight on her arms; awake he clung around her neck, he scattered his weight over her chest and shoulders. She was surprised that she had thought this out for herself. As she reached the gate, she was saying to herself: “He’s a dead weight asleep. He’s not near so heavy when he’s awake!” Seeing that the front door was closed, she followed the narrow path of hard-beaten earth running around the house. As she came to the big clump of lilacs at the corner, she heard Mahala’s voice cry, “Jason!” Through the lilac bushes she saw that Jason had fallen at Mahala’s back door. He was lying face down upon the ground, either exhausted or unconscious. She stood one instant in paralysed apprehension. The thing that kept her from movement was the look that was upon Mahala’s face as she crossed the back porch and went to him. Ellen saw that Mahala’s skirts were drawn back and there was a look of scorn and repulsion on her face. It was quite out of the girl’s power to move. She merely stood and stared at them. As she watched, she saw a slow change pass over Mahala. She saw her clenched hands relax; she saw her face soften and break up; she saw a quiver come to her lips and big tears squeeze from her eyes; she saw her fall on her knees beside Jason, and with unsuspected strength, lift and turn his body. She saw Mahala take Jason’s head on her lap and lean over him; she saw her hands slip under his vest and down to the region of his heart. She caught the torn note of agony in Mahala’s voice as she cried to him: “Jason, have the Morelands killed you, too?” Then Ellen saw Mahala lose her self-control. She stood watching her as she took Jason’s head in her arms and kissed him from brow to lips. “Jason! Oh, Jason! I understand you now! I know that you’ve always loved me. But you couldn’t, you simply couldn’t, make me the mother of your child when you thought it would be born through me to the suffering you have known. Oh, Jason, it wasn’t fair of you! Your love always has been mine! Your very body is mine! Your child should have been mine!”