"Hurt it? Furies! I'd like to strangle it! Here's a path. We'll follow that."
The path soon brought them into an old wood road, and they mounted a wooded hill, the woman desperately stumbling along at the heels of the man. On the hillside they came upon a deserted hut. Through the trees they could see the sun sinking redly in the west.
"Oh, stop, Selwin—stop a little while!" entreated the fatigued woman. "Let's rest here."
He halted and scowled as he stood in thought.
"They should be somewhere over to the northeast," he said. "I wonder if I could see them from the top of the hill. I'll try it. Here, take the brat, Bessie. I'll be back in a few minutes."
He tossed the bundle into her arms, whirled and rushed away up the hill.
The woman sat down on the trunk of a felled tree. She opened the bundle and gazed sadly, almost lovingly, on the face of an infant. The little eyes looked up at her, seemed to recognize her, and something like a smile came to the child's face.
"Poor little Frank! poor little Frank!" she breathed. "It's a shame—a brutal shame! Oh, why did I ever consent! Even though I have hated your father, I love you! It's drink that's turned the brain of Selwin Harris!"
The baby began to fret and cry.
"You're hungry, darling," muttered the woman. "Oh, what brutes we are! What a wretched thing I am! I've always been bad, and I always will be. Still, a noble man loves me. Oh, Berlin, Berlin, you will despise me now! Even though you loved me through all the past and for all of the past, you'll scorn and despise me now! Well, what does it matter? You found me at last, and you forced the truth from my lips; but it was too late—too late!"