“Then it is true, it is true. Oh, papa, papa, how could you do so to your little girl,” and the cry that went up from the slender throat was never forgotten by the young husband.
“Don’t, don’t, Annie, you will break my heart.”
After that they were silent, each suffering for the sin committed.
They heard no more from the rich father, and his pride would not bend. When the summer came, and the fall ushered in the red leaves Annie rose from a bed of sickness and brought a little child with her, and with tears in her eyes she whispered to her husband:
“Sweetheart, I shall name her Helen after my mother. I am sure that it will please my father.”
So the wee bit of humanity was christened, and Annie Standish began to be happier.
Still the news of the little child’s birth did not soften the banker’s heart, as he had said that he would not forgive, and forgive he would not.
So the days went by until one afternoon Victor came in with the news that his regiment had been ordered out for active service.
“It will be a chance for me to make a name for you and the baby,” said he lovingly. “Oh, Annie, that is all I want to do, for I have an ambition to make your father change his mind.”
“But, but,” faltered Annie, “you might get killed, Victor, and then what would Helen and I do? There would be no one left to us then.”