"I do, in truth and sincerity, if you are willing to make a sacrifice, 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 recognize 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 toward her, brought a flush to her cheeks as she ate. And indeed she ate ravenously; defiant and desperate as had been her mood, 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 a while, 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.
"Who is the gentleman who takes such an interest in me?"