George Rand is overcome by a stroke of paralysis in the office of his broker, and after being brought around goes to his home, where he has a second attack, after which he is practically helpless. He is unable even to move about, and his wife decides to take over his business cares and responsibilities. She goes to his broker with certain bonds to arrange a business transaction, but the broker makes it appear that the papers are worthless. Convinced that their fortune is swept away, saddened at the prospect of a bleak and destitute future, but determined to keep the information from her husband, she returns to her home. Soon they are reduced to straightened circumstances, and the wife establishes a little workroom adjacent to the one in which the invalid is confined, and which is so carefully screened from his view that he cannot see the misery and squalor so near to the garnished and glided trimmings of his own room. When near and about him, Mrs. Rand wears the costly clothes of former days, but in her own little workshop she is content with the cheapest, most coarse apparel, which she keeps in a trunk in the room. Then it happens. One night the child, their child, of whom much is not seen heretofore, reaches out a little baby hand from under the bed-cover, stretches it far and still a little further, until it comes in contact with the cover on a nearby table, and with a little, sturdy tug, the cover is off the table, and the lamp off the cover and on the floor. Rand sees the danger, but is unable to check the child. Soon the room is ablaze, and the flame is crawling and creeping. Rand realizes that the lives of the child and himself are imperiled and the knowledge acts like an electric shock upon his palsied limbs. The dormant strength of him comes strongly to the fore, the sluggish blood pulsates and throbs through his veins, and with a supreme effort he springs up. The lust of his new-found strength for a moment staggers him, but the next second he has the child in his arms and is carrying it to safety. He then returns and fights the flames, and after strenuous labor extinguishes them. Then, for the first time in long, dreary months he looks about the apartment, explores nooks and corners, opens doors and closets, and discovers the little sewing room, with its grim, mute tale. He sees the shabby clothing, concealed from him to spare him the pang and heartache of their misery. His wife's sacrifice dawns upon him, and he sobs in the way that strong men do. The last chapter is a reunion and a new incarnation.