I knew then, dimly, that what I saw was magnificent; but I was more pleased with the safety of my farmstead and my stacks than with the grim glory of the scene; and even as to my own good fortune in coming through undamaged, I was less concerned than with the tragedy being enacted in my house. I could not see into the future for Rowena, but I felt that it would be terrible. The words "lost," "ruined," "outcast," which were always applied to such as she had become, ran through my mind all the time; and yet, she seemed a better girl when I talked with her than when she was running over the prairie like a plover following old Tom and the little clittering wagon. Now she seemed to have grown, to have taken on a sort of greatness, something which commanded my respect, and almost my awe. It was the sacredness of martyrdom. I know this now: but then I seemed to feel that I was disgracing myself for not loathing her as something unclean. "It's a boy!" said Doctor Bliven, as I came to the house. "The mother ain't in very good shape. Seems exhausted--exhausted. She'll pull through, though--she'll pull through; but the baby is fat and lusty. Strange, how the mother will give everything to the offspring, and bring it forth fat when she's as thin as a rail--thin as a rail. Mystery of nature, you know--perpetuation of the race. Instinct, you know, instinct. This girl, now--had an outfit of baby clothes in that bundle of hers--instinct--instinct. My wife's going to stay a day or so. I'll take her back next time I come out." "You must 'tend to her, Doc," said I. "I'll guarantee you your pay." "Very well, Jake. Of course you would--of course, of course," said he. "But between you and me there wouldn't be any trouble about pay. Old friends, you know; old friends. Favors in the past. You've done things for me--my wife, too. Fellow travelers, you know. Never call on us for anything and be refused. Be out to-morrow. Ought to have a woman here when I go. Probably be milk for the child when it needs it; but needs woman. Can get you a mover's wife's sister--widow--experienced with her own. Want her? Bring her out for you--bring her out to-morrow. Eh?" I told him to bring the widow out, and was greatly relieved. I went to Magnus's cabin that night to sleep, leaving Mrs. Bliven with Rowena. I hoped I might not have to see Rowena before she went away; for the very thought of seeing the girl with the child embarrassed me; but on the third day the widow--they afterward moved on to the Fort Dodge country--came to me, and standing afar off as if I was infected with something malignant, told me that Mrs. Vandemark wanted to see me. "She ain't Mrs. Vandemark," I corrected. "Her name is Rowena Fewkes." "I make it a habit," said the widow, whose name was Mrs. Williams, "to speak in the present tense."