“It’s a pity he’s at large to ruin other homes,” Mrs. Wylie murmured. “But if God permits him to live, I suppose we may.” “Markham!” “Agnes!” The Major turned toward his former wife and stood with bowed head and dejected countenance. “I must ask you a question which has been upon my lips since I met you, but which I am almost—afraid to ask. Is Freddie alive?” “Yes, Agnes, yes. He is with me. I will send him to you at once. Oh, my God!” “What is it? Is he ill? Is anything wrong concerning him, my precious boy?” “No, he is well,” he groaned. “Freddie is well, and bright and good. You may well be proud of him.” “Thank God, oh, thank God!” She put her handkerchief to her eyes and sobbed for very joy. The other women wept with her. Finally, while her moistened eyes shone with the happiness of the moment, she said tremulously: “I have news for you, Markham. I want to tell you what perhaps I should not have kept from you, that God sent me solace for the loss of my children. A little girl was born to me soon after the death of my darlings. She is with me here at the hotel. Do you care to see her, your child, the little Dolores?” “Yes, only—Good God, I cannot!” “Markham, I do not understand you. Have you aught against me now?” Agnes Walden said, raising her eyes, now filled with doubt and questioning, to search his face. “No, no; Heaven knows I have not, but—some one tell her. I cannot.” Major Walden turned from her and walked forward several paces, his face set and drawn. “He has another family, another wife,” said Lissa softly. “God pity both him and you!” CHAPTER XXXIII CONCLUSION It is radiant summer-time and the June roses are making the air sweet with fragrance. June breezes are fanning alike the flower-crowned prairie of the West and the crowded thoroughfares of the Eastern cities. The electric current has bridged distances and connected the breath-note of Chicago with that of New York. By it we can listen to the voices of our friends, across the mighty expanse of the continent. We can even store up their words and songs and reecho them at will. A strange force is this invisible current of which we are now learning the Alpha. What its ultimate possibilities are, who shall determine? With it the opposing forces of nature are made subservient and the very winds can be made messengers between physical and sentient beings. We look at the trolley car passing our door and wonder at the power that propels it. Little by little we are opening our souls to the reception of beliefs in the invisible powers of nature. How far is it to the end? What new and marvelous revelations shall each succeeding year bring to us? A reception is being held in the parlors of the hotel where the scene of our first chapter was laid. Forest City has become a town of metropolitan proportions and its citizens are among the most progressive people of these twentieth century days.