"You have nothing to fear from me," he said. "Allow me to assist you. I am Dr. Spenlove."
It was the first time he had addressed her, but his name was familiar to her as that of a gentleman to whom the whole neighborhood was under a debt of gratitude for numberless acts of goodness. She glanced timidly at his face, and a vague hope stirred her heart; she knew that the time was approaching when she would need such a friend. But the hope did not live long; it was crushed by a sudden fear.
"Do you know me, sir?"
"No," replied Dr. Spenlove in a cheerful tone. "You are a stranger to me, as I dare say I am to you."
"No, sir," she said; "I have heard of your kindness to many suffering people."
"Tush, tush!" he exclaimed. "A man deserves no credit for doing his duty. You feel stronger now, do you not? If you have no doctor you will allow me to come and see you. Do not hesitate; you need such advice as I can give you, and," he added gently, "I will send in my account when you are rich. Not till then, upon my honor; and meanwhile I promise to ask no questions."
"I am deeply grateful to you, sir."
From that day he attended her regularly, and she was strengthened and comforted by his considerate conduct toward her. She was known as Mrs. Turner, but it was strange if she were wife or widow that she should wear no wedding ring. As their intimacy ripened his first impression that she was a lady was confirmed, and although he was naturally curious about her history, he kept his promise by not asking her any questions which he felt it would be painful to her to answer. Even when he discovered that she was about to become a mother he made no inquiries concerning the father of her unborn child. On the day he bade her farewell her baby, a girl, was two weeks old, and a dark and terrible future lay before the hapless woman. His heart bled for her, but he was powerless to help her further. Weak and despairing, she sat in her chair, with her child at her wasted breast; her dark and
deep-sunken eyes seemed to be contemplating this future in hopeless terror.
"I am grieved to leave you so," he said, gazing sadly at her, "but it is out of my power to do what I would wish. Unhappily I am almost as poor as yourself. You will try to get strong, will you not?"
"I don't know," she murmured.