LITMIR.BIZ

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for food, the mother still unconscious, but breathing heavily. The fire lit, and the kettle on, Mr. Moss put on his fur overcoat, whispered a good-night to Dr. Spenlove, received a grateful pressure of the hand in reply, slipped out of the house, and took his way home, humming-

      "O del ciel angeli immortal,

      Deh mi guidate con voi lassù!

      Dio giusto, a te m'abbandono,

      Buon Dio, m'accorda il tuo perdono!"

      He looked at his hands, which were black from contact with the coals.

      "What will Mrs. Moss say?" he murmured.

      CHAPTER VII

      DR. SPENLOVE ADVISES

      An hour after Mr. Moss's departure Mrs. Turner opened her eyes. It was a moment for which Dr. Spenlove had anxiously waited. He had satisfied himself that both of his patients were in a fair way of recovery, and thus far his heart was relieved. The woman who had assisted him had also taken her departure after having given the babe some warm milk. Her hunger appeased, the little one was sleeping calmly and peacefully by her mother's side.

      The room was now warm and cheerful. A bright fire was blazing, the kettle was simmering, and a pot of hot tea was standing on the hearth.

      Mrs. Turner gazed around in bewilderment. The one candle in the room but dimly lighted it up, and the flickering flames of the fire threw fantastic shadows on walls and ceiling; but so bright was the blaze that there was nothing distressful in these shadowy phantasmagoria. At a little distance from the bed stood Dr. Spenlove, his pale face turned to the waking woman. She looked at him long and steadily, and did not answer him when he smiled encouragingly at her and spoke a few gentle words. She passed her hand over the form of her sleeping child, and then across her forehead, in the effort to recall what had passed. But her mind was confused; bewildering images of the stages of her desperate resolve presented themselves-blinding snow, shrieking wind, the sea which she had not reached, the phantoms she had conjured up when her senses were deserting her in the white streets.

      "Am I alive?" she muttered.

      "Happily, dear Mrs. Turner," said Dr. Spenlove. "You are in your own room, and you will soon be well."

      "Who brought me here?"

      "I, and a good friend I was fortunate enough to meet when I was seeking you."

      "Why did you seek me?"

      "To save you."

      "To save me! You knew, then-"

      She paused.

      "I knew nothing except that you were in trouble."

      "Where did you find me?"

      "In the snow, you and your child. A few minutes longer, and it would have been too late. But an angel directed my steps."

      "No angel directed you: a devil led you on. Why did you not leave me to die? It was what I went out for. I confess it!" she cried, recklessly. "It was my purpose not to live; it was my purpose not to allow my child to live! I was justified. Is not a quick death better than a slow, lingering torture which must end in death? Why did you save me? Why did you not leave me to die?"

      "It would have been a crime."

      "It would have been a mercy. You have brought me back to misery. I do not thank you, doctor."

      "You may live to thank me. Drink this tea; it will do you good."

      She shook her head rebelliously.

      "What is the use? You have done me an ill turn. Had it not been for you I should have been at peace. There would have been no more hunger, no more privation. There would have been an end to my shame and degradation."

      "You would have taken it with you to the Judgment Seat," said Dr. Spenlove, with solemn tenderness. "There would have been worse than hunger and privation. What answer could you have made to the Eternal when you presented yourself before the Throne with the crime of murder on your soul?"

      "Murder!" she gasped.

      "Murder," he gently repeated. "If you went out to-night with an intention so appalling, it was not only your own life you would have taken, it was the life of the innocent babe now slumbering by your side. Can you have forgotten that?"

      "No," she answered, in a tone of faint defiance, "I have not forgotten it, I do not forget it. God would have forgiven me."

      "He would not have forgiven you."

      "He would. What has she to live for? What have I to live for-a lost and abandoned woman, a mother whose association would bring degradation upon her child? How should I meet her reproaches when she grew to be a woman herself? I am not ungrateful for what you have done for me" – she glanced at the fire and the tea he held in his hand-"but it cannot continue. To-morrow will come. There is always a to-morrow to strike terror to the hearts of such as I. Do you know what I have suffered? Do you see the future that lies before us? What hope is there in this world for me and my child?"

      "There is hope. You brought her into the world."

      "God help me, I did!" she moaned.

      "By what right, having given her life, would you rob her of the happiness which may be in store for her?"

      "Happiness!" she exclaimed, bitterly. "You speak to me of happiness!"

      "I do, in truth and sincerity, if you are willing to make a sacrifice, if you are willing to perform a duty."

      "What would I not be willing to do," she cried, despairingly; "what would I not cheerfully do, to make her life innocent and happy-not like mine-oh, not like mine! But you are mocking me with empty words."

      "Indeed I am not," said Dr. Spenlove, earnestly. "Since I left you some hours ago, not expecting to see you again, something has occurred of which I came to speak to you. I found your room deserted, and feared-what we will not mention again. I searched, and discovered you in time to save you; and with all my heart I thank God for it! Now, drink this tea. I have much to say to you, and you need strength to consider it. If you can eat a little bread and butter-ah, you can! Let me fill your cup again. That is right. Now I recognise the lady it was my pleasure to be able to assist, not to the extent I would have wished, because of my own circumstances."

      His reference to her as a lady, no less than the respectful consideration of his manner towards her, brought a flush to her cheeks as she ate. And, indeed, she ate ravenously. Defiant and rebellious as may be our moods, nature's demands are imperative, and no mortal is strong enough to resist them.

      When she had finished he sat by her side, and was silent awhile, debating with himself how he should approach the task which Mr. Gordon had imposed upon him.

      She saved him the trouble of commencing. "Are you acquainted with the story of my life?" she asked.

      "It has been imparted to me," he replied, "by one to whom I was a stranger till within the last few hours."

      "Do I know him?"

      "You know him well."

      For a moment she thought of the man who had brought her to this gulf of shame, but she dismissed the thought. It was impossible. He was too heartless and base to send a messenger to her on an errand of friendship, and Dr. Spenlove would have undertaken no errand of an opposite nature.

      "Will you tell me his name?"

      "Mr. Gordon."

      She trembled, and her face grew white. She had wronged this man; the law might say that she had robbed him. Oh! why had her fatal design been frustrated? why was not this torturing existence ended?

      "You need be under no apprehension," continued Dr. Spenlove; "he comes as a friend."

      She tossed her head in scorn of herself as one unworthy of friendship.

      "He has but lately arrived in England from the Colonies, and he came with the hope of taking you back with him as his wife. It is from him I learned the sad particulars of your life. Believe me when I say that he is desirous to befriend you."

      "In what way? Does he offer me money? I have cost him enough already. My father

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