do it...

She said: I don't want "must," Jud... I don't want you — neither I nor my child — unless you want us truly and honestly.

She was silent a moment, then whispered: Jud, tell the truth: do you love me?

I was silent in my turn for a moment in which she read my answer, and she said: Then there is no need for marriage... Then she added wearily... It is too late now, and the worst of it is over...

I rose and said: Perhaps you are right; I never loved you, and I never loved Stella... perhaps I am a wretched creature who does not know how to love... Goodbye.

I left with my wife... and I swore never to return to Talmont... But I did return, for my father died suddenly and I had to settle his affairs... Jean's family had moved to the other end of town, and yet I never saw a woman holding a child without believing it was she, and hurrying to see my son...

Stella bore me no children... and the magic of love between us had vanished, or nearly... I used to thank my sister Mary, for she has a boy and a girl who resembles me greatly and so reminds me of another child... I wanted a child; but could I tell my wife that I wanted someone to fill my heart in place of the child I had disowned...?

And I could bear it no longer... I wanted to know: was he happy?... Did he look like me when he laughed?... Did he know anything about me?... So I got in touch with Jean and pleaded with her; she hesitated, then agreed to meet me at a certain street corner at the noon hour... She came, opened the car door, and got in... I glanced at her: she was thin... She

said kindly: I suppose you want to hear about Bob...

And I trembled, for I had not even known his name. She added: Here is his picture... And I cried: Jean, won't you let me see him?... My heart longs for him... Her face flushed and she said: And my heart longs for him, Jud... then she began to cry.

And she explained. She said: After you left the hospital, life no longer seemed worth living... and I wanted my child never to know anything of his tragedy. My cousin came from Arizona — she has no children — to adopt a baby, and she adopted him when he was fifteen days old... and I have not seen him since.

And I cried out: How could you do that?...

And she turned the arrow back into my breast in a flash. She said: As you did... You denied the child twice.

She was sobbing as she said: Take me home... I took out paper and pen and said: Give me his address... She said: No; I promised never to see him and never to let him know who his father is...

I said: I will not trouble him; but think it over, Jean — if anything happened to you, I would never know where my son is.

She thought a moment, then gave me the address... We arrived; she opened the car door and said, as I had once said to her: "Jud, I am soon to marry a man called Chesterlin"... I swallowed a lump and said: I am glad of that...

I hid the address as I hid my longing deep within me... and consoled myself with the hope that Stella would bear me a child to soften that longing... But my wife was ill... I went with her to the doctor, and he prescribed an operation after which we would

have no children... And I held my head in both hands... Was this my punishment for what I had done to Jean?...

Time passed and I was burning... and I found myself on the road to Arizona... The house whose address I carried was painted rose, pretty, ringed with leafy trees... I waited near it for two hours before its door opened and a small boy of seven came out, carrying a little rifle and riding a bicycle.

He saw me; I did not go near him, lest I frighten him... He passed close beside me, and I smiled at him... He hesitated, then smiled... I said shyly, as if I were the boy and not he: What's your name? He said: Bob. And you?... I said: Jud... He said: See my rifle? I'm going to shoot you now, so pretend to fall...

And I was silent... What do you say to a boy who wears your face?... What do you say to your son?...

After a moment I said... It's a lovely house... He did not answer... And we heard a voice from inside calling: Bob... then the door opened... and a beautiful lady came out and called to the boy... Bob, come here quickly. He said, in spite of himself: I have to go... And the woman kept looking at us until he turned and went... I said: He will look back... he will wave his hand goodbye... But he did not... And I heard

the woman say gently... Didn't Mama tell you not to talk to strangers?...

I wanted to scream: I am not a stranger... look at the boy, and at me — he is my son and I am his father... let him come back to me and be my friend... let me talk with him a little while... But the rose-colored door had closed.