the worst the world can do. The life which, according to the world's
logic, should have made Jean Jacques a miserable figure, an ill-nourished
vagabond, had given him a physical grace never before possessed by him.
The face, however, showed the ravages which loss and sorrow had made.
It was lined and shadowed with dark reflection, yet the forehead had a
strange smoothness and serenity little in accord with the rest of the
countenance. It was like the snow-summit of a mountain below which are
the ragged escarpments of trees and rocks, making a look of storm and
warfare.

"Where is she--the child of my Zoe?" Jean Jacques repeated with an
almost angry emphasis; as though the Young Doctor were hiding her from
him.

"She is with the wife of Nolan Doyle, my partner in horse-breeding, not
very far from here. Norah Doyle was married five years, and she had no
child. This was a grief to her, even more than to Nolan, who, like
her, came of a stock that was prolific. It was Nolan who found your
daughter on the prairie--the driver dead, but she just alive when found.
To give her ease of mind, Nolan said he would make the child his own.
When he said that, she smiled and tried to speak, but it was too late,
and she was gone."

In sudden agony Jean Jacques threw up his hands. "So young and so soon
to be gone!" he exclaimed. "But a child she was and had scarce tasted
the world. The mercy of God--what is it!"

"You can't take time as the measure of life," rejoined the Young Doctor
with a compassionate gesture. "Perhaps she had her share of happiness--
as much as most of us get, maybe, in a longer course."