It was a pitiful tragedy! But the poor girl was quite right not to worry George until the last moment.

She was blocking his way--ruining his life, and God was taking her away so that she could no longer harm him.
And yet--poor Lisa! They drove on.

The sun warmed the crimson fields, and the birds chirped, and this was George's child creeping close to her breast.

It stirred there a keen pang of joy.
Surely He had forgiven her.
A month later a group of passengers in deep mourning stood apart on the deck of the Paris as she left the dock at Liverpool.

It was George Waldeaux, his mother, and little Jacques with his nurse.