"Would you be so kind as to lend me your assistance?" she said. "I found this unfortunate creature here in the street. I fear she is ill."
The man stood close beside her in the darkness.
"Mrs. Thorpe!" he said, "Mrs. Thorpe, what are you doing here in the night and the storm?"
With a glad cry she held out her hands to him.
"Dr. Eldrige! How fortunate that you happened this way. I found this poor creature here; she must be ill, I think. Help me now and we will take her into my house."
The doctor took the woman in his arms and helped her, half carrying her to the cottage door. Mrs. Thorpe turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door, and the light from the room streamed out and fell upon the woman's face. And then Mrs. Thorpe's questions were answered. She knew why old memories had crowded upon her; she knew why she had gone to the source of Power for strength, and why she had gone out into the wild night storm. The face was the dark, passion-stamped face of Margaret McGowan.
The doctor crossed the room and laid his burden on the couch as Mrs. Thorpe directed him. Then he straightened himself and looked into Mrs. Thorpe's face.
Never in her life had she seen a face so haggard, so deadly white and set. The time may come to a human heart when sympathy is as keenly craved as is food and drink to a man stranded in the desert. For one long minute the doctor held Mrs. Thorpe's eyes with his, and she read in their awful depths the tragedy of his life. Ah, these heart tragedies! Faith, hope, love--faithless, hopeless, forsaken! Not a word was spoken; the man turned to be alone, and the vibrating silence lay between them. But who can know what message may have gone out from the man's tortured soul? Dr. Eldrige's thought held to the wronged woman suffering and cold on the cot, but the soul of his manhood went out to that other woman shielded in the warm firelight. What, after all, are our material concepts of life where the realities of being are concerned? Who places our limitations upon us and makes our communication with a loved one dependent on time and space?
Both the doctor and Mrs. Thorpe turned to the prostrate form on the couch. "We must attend to her without delay," the doctor said; and they drew off her rain-soaked shoes, and warmed her aching feet, and removed her wet garments, and wrapped her in warm flannels. And Mrs. Thorpe brewed her a steaming cup of tea; and after the girl had drank this they assisted her to a bed and made her as comfortable as possible for the night. Then the doctor prepared to take his departure.
"I will send you someone to stay with you through the night, if you like," he said to Mrs. Thorpe.