“We were much surprised when the management of the institution of learning which he had attended offered him a chair in the college. He had never aspired to become identified with the faculty, but the honor was so great for a young man that he was not long in allowing his friends to persuade him to accept.
“Our wedding day was set; it was to occur during the holiday season. Just about the time that Ned took his position I realized that our indiscretions in love had led to a state of affairs that would be exceedingly embarrassing. I told Ned my trouble and insisted on an immediate marriage. But he, of course, would not do that. Now that he was a Professor there must be some deliberation in the matter of a ceremony. A big wedding must be planned. Then I began to fail in health, and a physician, who had been an old classmate of Ned’s, advised that I go South. My mother wished to accompany me, but as my father’s health was poor I simply declared myself against going unless she remained with him. I told her I would rather stay at home and die than go away and live at the expense of my father’s comfort.
“I went alone; no power could help me from the predicament which had been wrought by folly.
“My babe was born in New Orleans. Ned came to see me as often as his duties would permit; I had the tenderest of care, and he always commented on my good appearance when he was with me; but I am sure if he could have seen me one hour after he had gone he would have thought differently.
“Of course, I begged him to marry me, and he faithfully promised to do so, but, he said, ‘We must first allow your dishonor to be forgotten.’”
“Think of that, will you—my dishonor!”
At this thought Ethel began to pace the floor, seeming to forget my presence.
“Ah,” she said, “if the baby had only lived!” Then, clutching the little square of tin, she pressed it to her lips with the fervor of a loving mother.
“If you had but lived,” she said, as her deep blue eyes gazed at the chubby face shown in the picture.
“He put me off from time to time.”