"I have--let go!"

Then followed terrible hours in the guest chamber with Sister Constance
repeating over and over: "It is a perfectly plain case. All is well."

Finally, there was quiet, and then that cry that has power to move the
world's heart, a plaintive wail weighted with relinquishment
and--acceptance. Meredith's little daughter was born just as the clock
below chimed four.

"I will take it to the west wing," Constance said. "Call me if you need
me."

But everything seemed settling into calm, and Meredith fell asleep
looking as she used to look in the old days before she had been forced
outside the gates. At daylight she opened her eyes.

"Is it morning?" she asked of Sister Angela who sat beside her.

"Yes, dear heart."

"Raise the shade, Sister." Then, as Angela raised it--"Why, how strange!
What is that, Sister?"

Angela looked and saw The Ship! In that hour when vitality runs low and
with the past horrors of the night still holding her, all the
superstition of The Gap claimed her.

"I--I was afraid I would lose the ship." Meredith's mind wandered back
to her hurried home-leaving; the dread that the ship that was to bear