"Because I wish to feel and know the pain and glory of it all."

"You don't wish to take it?"

"Not unless you say I should."

"What a wonderful patient you are, child! What a beautiful spirit!" He looked at her intently. "Well, I'm older and wiser in experience than you. I'm glad you added that clause 'unless you say I should.' I'm going to say it. After all my talks to you on our return to the truths and simplicity of Nature you are perhaps surprised. You needn't be. I'm going to put you into a gentle sleep. Nature will then do her physical work automatically. I do this because our daughters are the inheritors of the sins of their mothers for centuries. The over-refinement of nerves, the hothouse methods of living, and the maiming of their bodies with the inventions of fashion have made the pains of this supreme hour beyond endurance. This should not be. It will not be so when our race has come into its own. But it will take many generations and perhaps many centuries before we reach the ideal. No physician who has a soul could permit a woman of your physique, your culture and refinement to walk barefoot and blindfolded into such a hell of physical torture. I will not permit it."

He walked quietly into his laboratory, prepared the sleeping powders and gave them to her.

Six hours later she opened her eyes with eager wonder. Aunt Abbie was busy over a bundle of fluffy clothes. The Doctor was standing with his arms folded behind his back, his fine, clean-shaven face in profile looking thoughtfully over the sun-lit valley. There was just one moment of agonized fear. If they had failed! If her child were hideous--or deformed! Her lips moved in silent prayer.

"Doctor?" she whispered.

In a moment he was bending over her, a look of exaltation in his brown eyes.

"Tell me quick!"

"A wonderful boy, little mother! The most beautiful babe I have ever seen. He didn't even cry--just opened his big, wide eyes and grunted contentedly."

"Give him to me."

Aunt Abbie laid the warm bundle in her arms and she pressed it gently until the sweet, red flesh touched her own. She lay still for a moment, a smile on her lips.

"Lift him and let me look!"

"What a funny little pug nose," she laughed.

"Yes--exactly like his mother's!" the Doctor replied.

She gazed with breathless reverence.

"He is beautiful, isn't he?" she sighed.

"And you have observed the chin and mouth?"

"Exactly like yours. It's wonderful!"

CHAPTER XXVIII. WHAT IS LOVE?

Eighteen months swiftly passed with the little mother and her boy still in Dr. Mulford's sanitarium. She had allowed herself to be persuaded that he had the right to be her guide and helper in the first year's training of the child.

The boy had steadily grown in strength and beauty of body and mind. The Doctor persuaded her to spend one more winter basking in his sun-parlor and finishing the final chapters of his book. Her mind was singularly clever and helpful in the interpretation of the experiences and emotions of motherhood.

She had stubbornly resisted every suggestion to see her husband or allow him to see the child. The Doctor had managed twice to give Jim an hour with the baby while she had gone to Asheville on shopping trips. He was rewarded for his trouble in the devotion with which the young father worshiped his son. The Doctor watched the slumbering fires kindle in the man's deep blue eyes with increasing wonder at the strength and tenderness of his newfound soul.

Jim had completed the furnishing of the bungalow with the advice and guidance of his friend, and every room stood ready and waiting for its mistress. He had insisted on making every piece of furniture for Mary's room and the nursery adjoining. The Doctor was amazed at the mechanical genius he displayed in its construction. He had taken a month's instruction at a cabinet maker's in Asheville and the bed, bureau, tables and chairs which he had turned out were astonishingly beautiful.

Their lines were copied from old models and each piece was a work of art. The iron work was even more tastefully and beautifully wrought. He had toiled day and night with an enthusiasm and patience that gave the physician a new revelation in the possibility of the development of human character.

His friend came at last with a cheering message. He began smilingly:

"I'm going to make the big fight today, boy, to get her to see you."

"You think she will?"

"There's a good chance. Her savings have all been used up from her bank account in New York. She is determined to go to her father in Kentucky.

I'll have a talk with her, bring her over to the bungalow, show her through it on the pretext of its model construction and then you can tell her that you built it with your own hands for her and the baby. You might be loafing around the place about that time."

Jim's hand was suddenly lifted.

"I got ye, Doc, I got ye! I'll be there--all day."

"Don't let her see you until I give the signal."

"Caution's my name."

"We'll see what happens."

Jim pressed close.

"Say, Doc, if you know how to pray, I wish you'd send up a little word for me while you're talkin' to her. Could ye now?"

"I'll do my best for you, boy--and I think you've got a chance. She's been watching the blue eyes of that baby lately with a rather curious look of unrest."

"They're just like mine, ain't they?" Jim broke in with pride.

"Time has softened the old hurt," the Doctor went on. "The boy may win for you----"

The square jaw came together with a smash.

"Gee--I hope so. I'll wait there all day for you and I'm goin' to try my own hand at a little prayer or two on the side while I'm waiting. Maybe God'll think He's hit me hard enough by this time to give me another trial."

With a friendly wave of his hand the Doctor hurried home.

He found Mary seated under the rose trellis beside the drive, watching for his coming. The day was still and warm for the end of April. Birds were singing and chattering in every branch and tree. A quail on the top fence-rail of the wheat field called loudly to his mate.

The boy was screaming his joy over a new wagon to which Aunt Abbie had hitched his goat. He drove by in style, lifted his chubby hand to his mother and shouted:

"Dood-by, Doc-ter!"

The Doctor waved a smiling answer, and lapsed into a long silence.

He waked at last from his absorption to notice that Mary was day-dreaming. The fair brow was drawn into deep lines of brooding.

"Why shadows in your eyes a day like this, little mother?" he asked softly.

"Just thinking----"