In the dead woman's hand was a letter—a farewell note, signed with her husband's name.
When the villagers discovered this, they carried her body back to the Finch family home. Arthur Finch, just roused from sleep, was met with the news and collapsed into an earth-shattering cry. He rushed into his sister-in-law's chamber, scooped up the wailing infant, and began making arrangements for her burial.
Once the funeral matters were settled, he cradled the child and told the crowd he would deliver the baby to his elder brother. It was his brother's flesh and blood, after all. Even if Arthur Finch's elder brother had taken another woman, a child could not be left without parents. With the mother gone, the father was all the more essential.
Of course, he alone knew the truth: the infant was his own son.
