While Jennie was “wrestling” so in the spirit, the stewardess came up and put her baby in her arms, smiling, and saying:
“As I was passing by your stateroom I just looked in to see if all was right, and then I saw this little thing lying wide awake and crowing to herself as good as pie. And I thought I would wrap her up and bring her to you for a breath of this good, fresh air, which, if it was doing you good, wouldn’t do her harm. Was I right?”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Hopkins. And I thank you so much,” said Jennie, as she stooped and kissed the babe that lay upon her lap; but Mrs. Hopkins had already gone about her business.
Jennie smiled and cooed to the little one, enjoying its presence, and rejoicing that Kightly Montgomery was gone from her side and was not likely to return. She had purposely avoided speaking of the child to him. She was glad that he had not once inquired about it. She had almost a superstitious dread of his seeing, touching or even knowing of the babe, for fear that his evil nature might, in some moral, physical or, perhaps, occult way, bring harm to the little innocent.
She was still bending over the babe, when a soft, sweet, melodious voice addressed her.
“Pardon me, you are Mrs. Montgomery, are you not?”
Jennie looked up. The goddess had come back. Jennie did not know her, but she answered quietly:
“Yes, madam.”
“I am Mrs. Randolph Hay; and that I had heard of you and become interested in you must be my excuse for intruding my acquaintance on you,” added the beauty, with a bewitching smile.
Jennie flushed, paled, trembled and cast down her eyes.