“You devil!” she cried to him. “You let me walk the roads of earth every day seeking my baby, every day seeing him; experiencing his kindness, and not knowing he was mine. That knowledge would have cured my sick brain, would have saved me——”
She paused from weakness, but an instant later she gathered her forces and raised her hand.
“The curse of God shall fall as heavily on you as it has on me,” she cried. “It is His justice. He wills that you shall now take up the white flag that I have been forced to carry every day for the salvation of my soul, and for the salvation of yours you shall carry it for the remainder of your life! After all, you are the worse off of the two. I lost my baby; you have lost your soul. Now you shall go and seek it.”
She thrust the white flag into his hands and said to the men: “Let him go free. This is the work of God. Start him on his journey.”
The men stepped back. With bowed head, the flag in his hand, Martin Moreland turned and sought what safety was promised him in the shelter of his private room. There were men in his employ awaiting him there, and they watched him with repulsed eyes as he tottered into the room carrying the white emblem. Freed from the torturing hands that had gripped him, he tried to think. He made an effort to recover the ground that their faces told him he had lost in their estimation. Mechanically, he made his way to his chair. The absurd flag was in his hands. What would he do with it? He glanced around and then he thrust the holder into an urn standing on a bookcase behind his chair. It was an unfortunate disposal to make of the flag, for when he dropped into his accustomed seat, it was hanging directly over his head, its snowy whiteness stained by contact with the street and with the blood of the woman who for many years had borne it, a self-imposed penance for the easement of her soul.
In the directors’ room, Rebecca lifted her face to Jason. She stretched out her shaking arms.
“Jason!” she cried, “do you think this is the truth? Are you my baby? Oh, are you my baby? And if you are, will you come to me only a minute before I go?”
Jason came crashing to his knees beside her. He slid an arm under her body and caught her shoulders in a firm grip.
“Yes, I think it is the truth,” he said. “I believe you, and I believe him. In my heart I feel that you are my mother.”
He gathered her into his arms and kissed her face and her hands while she made her crossing.