A baby!
As he stood there in the doorway, frozen to the spot, the candle in one hand, the knife in the other, Justine moved suddenly and in a moment was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE FIRST-BORN.
Slowly she half raised herself from the pillow, her right arm going out as if to shield the tiny bit of life beside her, her great eyes staring at the intruder; the inclination to shriek was met by the paralysis of every faculty and she could do no more than moan once in her fear. The eyes of the tall, gaunt man, upon whose face the fitful light of the candle threw weird shadows, held her motionless.
"Wha—what do you want?" she finally whispered.
"Justine, don't you—don't you know me?" he asked, hoarsely, not conscious of the question, motionless in the doorway.
"Oh, oh," she moaned, tremulously, and then her hand was stretched toward him, wonder, uncertainty, fear in her eyes.
"I am Jud—Jud; don't you know me? Don't be frightened," he went on, mechanically.